Mortimer and Myrtle A Love Story
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If You Had Your Time Again free porn video
We've all seen the film, we've all heard the premise: Groundhog Day. It's funny, right? Okay, yeah, for Bill Murray it's a total fucking nightmare, isn't it? I'm not Bill Murray, though; my Groundhog Day's better than his. This is the seventh time my alarm has woken me up in this hotel bed at 7 am on the 29th of September. Every day, I hope to see '30th September' and I'm always disappointed.
I thought I'd hate it: the same old things over and over again. You're eating the same food, walking the same route, seeing the same people. Boring. Dull. Yawn. Right?
What if you're eating steak for the rest of your life? What if every day was just fantastic scenery in blistering hot sunshine? Would you want anyone else if you spent every day with the most beautiful girl in the world?
I don't know why I'm stuck on the 29th. Maybe I pissed off the universe on the 28th? Maybe someone cursed me, or my bed is situated on a rift in space-time. Perhaps the universe is one big video game and I'm stuck on whatever level this is until I succeed? Who knows? Who cares? I just know I'm still here, trying again and again. I suppose there are worse days to be stuck in, though. I've spent a week perfecting this to be arguably the best fucking Groundhog Day ever. Every word and every action is rehearsed. I should be enjoying myself, right?
Okay, I'm not eating steak. Breakfast in the hotel is the usual fare, but who gets excited about breakfast anyway? Here I am indulging in a big bowl of cereal. Don't ask me why. It's soon finished and I'm away once more down the promenade.
The sun gloriously beats against my skin, the sea breeze complimenting it perfectly, tousling my hair. It would seem strange to wear the same white linen shirt and blue cotton shorts for a whole week, but 'if it ain't broke...'. Despite the heat, I'm comfortable. I'm happy. I'm meeting Hazel, how can I not be excited? Okay, I'm not so nervous or apprehensive any more. I know exactly what I'm getting into, but this is Hazel! Dear, sweet, sexy Hazel. Of course I'm excited.
The café isn't far away, a few minutes along the seafront. It's always a pleasant walk. The waves lap softly at the shore and roll along the sand, taking my imagination back to the evening when Hazel and I were... Y'know what, it's better if I don't think about tenses anymore.
I arrive on time, of course, and there she is, at the table in the corner. She glows, and it's not just the light of her phone screen. I know every thread of her outfit by now, but I still have to drink in the sight of her. She reclines on the bench, her smooth, tanned legs crossed, idly bouncing a cute black heel under the table.
I follow the long luscious line of leg up to the red floral patterned dress. The skirt hangs loosely about her and I think, not for the first time, how beautifully it suits her. She's even coordinated her lipstick and nails to suit.
When her eyes lift to mine, I still feel the racing of my heart. She still takes my breath away.
“Ah, you made it!” she coos in that soft, delicious voice.
I know it's coming, but I still can't control the flush of my cheeks when she kisses them both and invites me to join her. It's ridiculous. I fidget and twiddle my thumbs, no matter how much I tell myself to stop. Luckily, I know it won't put her off.
She's animated when she talks, telling me everything about her morning, her family, her plans for the future. I don't need to listen anymore, I know every word. I can just enjoy the moment. Hazel flicks her hair over her shoulder occasionally and my imagination wanders to my lips on her soft neck, shifting down her chest. She's easy to admire, but I've had this conversation so many times already. I'm impatient.
She asks me a question, to which I automatically reply, and she's away again. She strokes back her hair; she teases her lips; she taps the table; she motions around the room and she plays idly with her coffee cup. I watch her, lost in the image of her thin, delicate fingers reaching towards me, wrapping slowly around my...
She grips my hands and I flinch. This always happens, but I never can stop my body from lurching with surprise. She holds them tight with a big, happy smile. The coffee cup is empty and she's springing to her feet, taking me with her.
“C'mon, let's go to the sea, I haven't been yet!” she beams, skipping out of the café with me in tow.
I always love watching her bounce out into the street, her dancing feet causing hair and dress alike to swish and billow about her like a storm. She beams at me with the light of the sun, dragging me to the sea wall and kicking off her heels.
She leaps up and over the stone wall, her dress flying just high enough to glimpse her bare beautiful bum. I remember how her flashing first excited me when I realised she wasn't wearing underwear. The cheeky grin she shoots my way when she lands in the sand tells me she knew I'd seen it, too. Just to be sure, though, she pirouettes perfectly on the spot, the skirt fanning out around her, showing off her firm, tanned cheeks.
Hazel happily hops down the beach, carrying her heels. It's easy to forget that this is our first proper date, besides our chats online; at least for her. This is her first day by the sea, the first time she's seen me in person, the first flirtatious step into a big scary unknown future. I watch her kicking up the surf, the sea lapping at her feet. I've seen her do it so much, but this is her first time. I can feel her excitement, sense it bubbling inside her; it's painted over her face, it's an energy that radiates from her. Her smile feels wholesome and beautiful against the idyllic backdrop.
Being with Hazel makes me smile; it makes my heart pound. My mind whirs with images of her and I together, but deep down it doesn't feel quite the same. I don't feel that radiating joy. I know how this story ends, I've already seen and lived it – a few times, in fact. It's lost its mystery to me.
As I reach the shoreline, she turns and skips beautifully towards me, hair adrift behind her and dress failing to keep pace. She reaches me with arms as wide as her grin and throws herself upon me.
I surprise myself every time I catch her. It's an instinctive motion. With her arms around my neck, her body is pressed tight to mine and my hands act on impulse. I seize her sweet, firm cheeks, lift her bodily from the ground and spin her on the spot. I imagine it must look impressive to a passer-by, but it's never a view I've been afforded. Her legs encircle my waist and she squeals playfully, before our lips connect, swallowing her cries.
She stays there for what feels like forever. Our lips crash hungrily together, releasing the cumulative pent up need of all those late-night texting sessions. My hands shift their grip, slipping beneath her dress. The firm flesh of her cheeks contours perfectly around my fingers. I will never tire of feeling her flesh conform to my hold and the delicious moan she pours into my mouth.
When our lips finally detach, she's looking into my eyes, but the joyous expression now has a mischievous little glimmer to it.
“Well, that was hot,” she whispers. “As first kisses go, that's pretty fucking good.”
The second she bites her bottom lip, I can't help kissing her once more, my lips trailing across her cheek to the nape of her neck. She moans in my ear as I softly suck her earlobe and whisper to her.
“You're the one without panties, Hazel. I follow your lead.”
Sporting a beautifully filthy grin, she shuffles out of my grip and alights to her feet, wandering away up the beach and plonking herself down on the sand. I watch her thighs open towards the sea, the dress slipping along her legs as they spread, but she stops short with a playful giggle and crosses her legs.
“Sit with me,” She pats the sand next to her, wearing the most irresistible smile I've ever seen, teeth gripping her lip. “It'll be fun.”
“You should be careful,” I warn, sitting and wrapping her hand in mine, my fingers nesting over hers. “Commando around all this sand is a recipe for disaster.”
She smirks at me, one look that promises cheekiness and mischief. Her hand squeezes my thigh and strokes inside my leg as her breath feathers my neck. I can already hear her reply before she even moves her lips.
“Sand only sticks to you if you're wet, though, right?”
Her slender fingers ensnare my wrist, guiding my hand to her thigh and walking my fingers beneath her dress. I feel the first soft caress of her swollen folds on my fingertips just as her lips find mine.
My eyes closed, I focus on the teasing stroke of my finger as it explores her smooth, delicate lips. It traces the outline of her sex with the merest of kisses, tickling up and down the length of her engorging lips. Her breath falls warm and gentle against my face between kisses, her hips moving beneath my touch. I'm sure I could never tire of hearing the way she softly sighs as my fingertip tenderly teases her firm, aching clit.
“God, you know what I need. I think you've done this before.” She's right, I have. “Am I wet, baby?” she breathes, just as I slowly spread her lips and dip into the sweet, hot pool of her excitement.
Her eyelids flutter as my thick digit scythes through the length of her sex, up to brush her clit and down again to her sweetness. Hazel leans heavily against my shoulder, her legs laying brazenly apart. We both watch as I bring my hand out from the folds of her dress and raise one very obviously wet finger between us with practised melodrama. It gleams in the sunlight. Reaching my tongue out, I taste it from the knuckle to the tip with a murmur of approval.
Hazel watches it all the way, her lids seeming to grow heavier, her lips parting and her tongue emerging for the briefest second. I have studied her beautiful face many times now and I adore witnessing the moment she submits to the urge. A calmness comes over her face as she leans forward and envelops my finger in her warm, wet lips with a single plunging strike. The seal of her lips is immense, as is the deep, hungry suck, but I adore the absolute abandon behind the moan at the taste of her own wetness.
She pulls away with a pop of her lips and I'm in love. That's the moment that I want to throw her on her back, lift her dress over her head and fuck her there on the beach. I don't give a fuck who's watching, I just want to crawl between her thighs and head straight for the source of that delicious sweet sauce. I can feel the already solid shaft in my shorts just pulsating with need.
Instead, I watch as she hops gracefully to her feet, the hot, breathless minx replaced by the grinning, bubbly beauty once more as she hauls me impressively to my feet. Maybe tomorrow, I tell myself.
“C'mon, let's go into town! I wanna go shopping and you can carry my bags!” she beams at me, straightening her dress.
She leans closer and whispers in my ear, as if to reassure me that I hadn't just dreamed the whole Goddamn thing, “You're right, I'm far too wet to be sitting on a beach. It's not safe.” She closes her hand around the prominent bulge in my shorts. “Don't worry, we'll satisfy him later.”
God, I fucking hope so. I need it.
Within just a couple of minutes, we're back on the promenade. Hazel has her heels back on, after I dutifully brush all the sand from her feet amid her teasingly overblown moans of appreciation, drawing all the attention of the passing crowd. She really cannot help but tease.
We head into town, now holding hands. It seems ridiculously sweet and romantic after the moment on the beach but still feels perfect. We walk together, arms swinging and Hazel skipping happily. I can't resist continually pulling her in for kisses, eliciting her adorable giggles. I lean her dramatically over my arm for a deep kiss and she playfully kicks a long, slender leg out, pretending to swoon. We barely make ten consecutive steps without sharing a kiss, squeezing each other, pinching or stroking in some way.
It's like being teenagers, excited and silly with love. I can't take my eyes off the way she moves, so lithe and elegant. The way her joy transfers to her hips makes every movement graceful and endearing. She's entrancing.
“You!” I hiss. She turns on the spot, surprised at my tone, her eyes wide open. She's yanked into my embrace and I casually knocking a strand of her hair aside. “You are ridiculously beautiful, have I told you, Hazel?”
Her face splits with the broadest, most genuine smile I've seen . I was never going to stop myself from planting the deepest, most passionate kiss to her lips yet.
We're locked there, stuck in time, just entwined in the moment and unable – unwilling, even – to escape it. The world carries on around us, but we remain resolutely removed from it all.
At last, we slip apart and she looks up at me with a breathless smile, fingers running over my chest.
“You are my gorgeous,” she whispers, kissing my chest through the open section of my shirt.
Hazel steps back, blowing her lips and shaking her head, like a dog shaking off the rain. The grin is back on her face. Her hand snatches mine up once more and she's away again, tripping down the road and dragging me along as she bundles headlong into the nearest shop.
I don't need to tell you the way men feel about shopping, do I? Least of all, shopping with the significant other. It's been a staple of comedians for decades. That dreaded requirement of all relationships: a hardship and a duty to be performed – nay, suffered. It's true, every shop we enter is strewn with the abandoned, listless carcasses of apathetic boyfriends and resigned husbands. They gather in doorways, seating areas and paltry “men's sections”, laden down with bags and the weight of their own depression.
Shopping with Hazel isn't like that. Something about her energy is addictive and intoxicating. She has an enthusiasm and excitement that I can't get enough of. She leaps from aisle to aisle, gasping, cooing and pointing at anything and everything. I suppose some might find it tiresome, but I adore her energy. I admit it loses its lustre after so many days in a row, but it's still a pleasure.
Her excitement is dampened only by her particularness and fussiness. Everything has to be just perfect. This does have the happy effect of limiting the amount of stuff I have to carry.
Her cheeky streak is soon in full swing by now. She dances through the shops sometimes just to find the smallest, skimpiest outfits they have and rush to the dressing room, taking me with her.
She takes a maniacal pleasure in modelling them for me, twirling on the spot bearing a wicked grin. The more her arse shows, the more cleavage she can expose and the tighter the outfit, the happier she is. Anything to watch me bite my lip and hear me growl, just so she can snatch the curtain closed with a giggle once again.
“Okay, last shop!” she declares, dragging me in by the hand. We have accumulated a sizeable collection of bags by this point as I hobble along behind her, struggling to keep up.
Hazel flicks idly through the aisles before offering another light summer dress up to her figure. She asks me what I think, but she's already walking away with it, nodding to herself. I guess her mind is made up, I figure, wandering in behind her.
She disappears into the lone fitting room and I wait behind the curtain. She peers around it, wearing that evil smile once more.
“Can you...?” she asks, gesturing to the zip she's had absolutely no trouble with all day long, opening the curtain a little further.
I reach for the zip and pull, slowly easing it down and watching the fabric fall from her shoulders. A shiver cascades over her, her muscles quivering, as it drapes lower and lower until it finally slips from around her waist and drops satisfyingly to the floor at her feet. Her figure is as beautiful as I remember, tight and firm with the perfect round arse she's currently shaking in my direction.
Glancing up, I can catch her gleeful grin in the mirror, and a peek at her impossible perky breasts, topped with delicious pink nipples ripe for sucking.
“Thanks,” she whispers, busying herself with the new dress and slipping it from the hanger. The curtain remains open.
I know exactly what she's going to do next, of course, but it doesn't change a thing. It's an immense tease, but it's an image burned into my brain. I'm still looking forward to it, my eyes glued to her fine form.
She bends at the waist, legs straight and hips fully engaged. Further and further she bends until she's almost touching her ankles, the beautiful cheeks pulled temptingly tight with the merest glimpse of her sweet, smooth slit offered towards me. She slowly steps her feet into the new dress.
I can't resist. I was never going to, was I? Last time I gave her a spank, but today my finger reaches into the cubicle and strokes gently through the crease of her soft pussy.
I chose well.
Hazel coos. She doesn't even flinch, as though she was expecting it. She knew what she was doing to me all along. She simply hums happily and continues to ease the dress up, hiding away her perfect figure once more.
“What do you think?” she asks me, turning on the spot.
I want to kiss her and tell her just what a gorgeous little fuck she is. I want to press her into the cubicle, pull the curtain shut and finger her to climax right there, hear her panting her pleasure into the mirror. None of that happens.
Before I can register the situation, she's shrugged, whipped the curtain closed in front of me and left me staring into space. Maybe tomorrow, eh? Just seconds later, she emerges once more in her original outfit, still shuffling into her heels, tossing the dress back onto the rack.
With her arm tight around my waist and mine around her shoulders, we emerge back into the street. She's already making plans. “C'mon, let's get something to eat!”
I did say I could eat steak every day, didn't I? Okay, I probably shouldn't, that's true, but if you're going to be doing this every day, it's best to pick the best meal there is, right? Who could complain about a big juicy steak and all the trimmings?
Hazel orders a big, greasy burger. I watch in awe as she devours it, somehow remaining spotlessly clean throughout. I have no idea how she can eat a burger like that and still be sexy, but Hazel can, and even washes it down with a deep draught of red wine. She's immediately graceful again, sitting perfectly poised and smiling at me, swirling the glass in her hand.
“Do you want a dessert?” she's going to ask me; and proceeds to.
I decline. I'm far too focused on the fingers entwined around her glass, the soft motions of her wrists and the cheeky gleam in her eye. I just want to get out of the place. I drain my glass and shake my head.
“I think we should get you out of here, and out of that dress.”
She titters and giggles, licking her lips playfully. She knows she's got me. “What, again?” she asks.
“Oh yes. This time for good.”
She purrs to herself, sipping her wine once more. There's a feather-light stroke of her foot down my leg before she leans forward and places her elbows on the table, squeezing her breasts into a deep, inviting cleavage. Her voice is so low I have to strain to hear her when she speaks.
“How far is your hotel?”
I wouldn't say we ran to my room, but we didn't exactly wait around, either. I yank her out of the restaurant, throwing cash on the table as we go, and together we hurtle down the street. She's giggling behind me, telling me to slow down, but she's impressively quick in her heels.
We stop once on the way, because of the traffic, but our needs take over. We're locked so tightly in each other's arms, kissing deeply by the roadside, that we miss the green light and have to wait, still hungrily snogging ourselves silly, until the next one.
It's the same story in the elevator, just the second the doors close. Our lips immediately mesh together, the shopping bags are discarded and Hazel is pressed tight up to the wall, her leg around mine. She gasps as my palm cups and squeezes her deliciously wet pussy, my fingers tickling over her lips. The look in her eyes is one of fire and I can hear her desperately heavy breathing.
“I want you,” she whines, reluctantly straightening up as the elevator shudders to a halt. She bolts out into the corridor, hitching the skirt up over her fabulous arse as she wanders the corridor ahead of me, shaking her cheeks for me.
I cringe as I struggle with the lock, embarrassed at the sheer clumsiness of it, but eventually, the door clicks open and Hazel barges past me. She's immediately kicking her heels into the corner and stretching out, taking a glance around the room. She turns to face me just as the shopping bags tumble from my hands and the door slams shut. In one deft manoeuvre, she tugs her zip and lets the beautiful red dress simply slide away, leaving her naked just feet away from the bed.
“Oh you naughty girl,” I growl to her, feeling confident. “You know that was my job!”
“Oops,” she whispers, pretending to look coy, turning and bending to shake her arse in my direction. “Are you going to punish me?”
I'm immediately upon her. Her breath explodes from her lungs by my hand snatching at her long, beautiful hair. She's bent at the waist, thrown splayed across the bed with the cutest little squeal.
My hands yank her feet apart by her ankles and she's squirming, feigning resistance, as she's pulled to the edge of the bed. My knees hold her legs in place and she moans into the sheets. I'm sure she's about to say something, but the crack that resonates against the walls just devolves any speech into a needy fucking groan.
I softly stroke her stinging skin, before another smack brings the same result. Now she's squirming. She's whining between touches and writhing beneath me, her flawless cheeks blushing a soft red.
I roll her bodily on the spot. The look in her wide, beautiful eyes makes me seize her by the chin and firmly plant my lips to hers. I can't resist kissing my way down her body, moaning into her skin as I reach the perfectly smooth and creamy breasts I spent all day longing for. I can't get enough of her taste.
The hiss and cry of pained pleasure when my teeth find the stiff pink points just encourages me. I can't help but do it again. She's pinned beneath my weight, my mouth and hands teasing and tweaking the delectable nipples enough that I can feel her buck and roll beneath me to the soundtrack of her honeyed moans.
I'm addicted now and my lips will not be parted from her beautiful flesh. I'm working my way lower, kissing the delicate contours of her body and tracing the outline of every muscle, crease and curve with my tongue. Hazel's endless moans and constant convulsing are only a bonus.
My arms wrap around her thighs while my lips work down her legs and up once more until I'm staring at her sensationally soft, smooth and slippery lips. Just above the irresistible mound of her pelvis, she's watching me with those big eyes, hands clutching the sheets.
I guide her fingers through my hair, allowing her to grip me tight as I hug her hips and wink at her, kissing twice around the length of her swollen folds, feeling her frame tense and shiver. I extend my tongue and feel her go rigid within my grasp, waiting for the warm, delicate caress lapping tenderly at her sweetness.
I will never tire of hearing her mewl for me. The way her hips buck, her fingers grip and the guttural groan that follows just redoubles my enthusiasm. Within seconds my tongue has parted her lips and is teasing her clit from its hood. Every touch electrifies her a little more and I chase it, sucking at her swollen clit while my tongue dances across it.
I have to watch her gorgeous expression, drawing every sweet moment of pleasure from her. It doesn't take her long to really grip my hair and press back against me, especially when my tongue dips inside her delicious pussy. Her eyes meet mine as she's fucking my face, grinding herself furiously against my hard, waiting tongue, my wet lips and even my chin. She's panting, gasping and I can feel her tensing. She's close.
She looks at me with wide, pleading eyes. How can I refuse her? I nod, mumbling into the depths of her sex. It's all she needs. Hazel howls, furiously fucking herself over that edge as I grip her tight, feeling her thighs clenching around my ears. Her body shakes and shudders itself into one big final vibrating climax.
I've been too hard for too long, now. Watching her tight, inviting cunt clenching in front of my eyes is too much and I'm standing up before she's finished shivering. I drop the shorts to the floor and Hazel is just barely able to open her eyes, peering up at me, as I lift her knees into the air and split her flexible legs wide open. Her soft folds are spread and waiting, shining in the artificial light. I'm inside her within seconds.
She gasps, shivers and relaxes, finishing with a long, drawn-out groan that just gives me the green light to push even deeper. She's hissing through her teeth, but she's mine now and I can't resist any longer. I've got her right where I want her and I can tell she's loving it. She's clenching around me still, gripping me tightly as I push inside her, but I can feel her hips lifting to meet my thrusts.
She's recovered in no time, her hands and legs pulling me deeper. She looks up at me with the fire in her eyes again, determined to fuck me back as she whispers filthy little encouragements beneath her breath.
“Let me ride you,” she whines. When I don't reply, she continues, “please! I want to ride it!”
I reluctantly slip slowly out of her, climbing onto the bed next to her and immediately reaching for her arse. She's straddling me at once, her hands on my chest with that wild desire in her gaze. I watch her guide my throbbing, wet shaft to her tight entrance and she plunges it deep inside in an instant, grunting as our bodies collide together.
She's divine. Every delicious inch of her almost dances atop me, fucking herself hard and deep on my length with every muscle, every fibre of her being. She looks down from behind the curtain of her hair and I can see she's as close as I am. She's panting, her hair thrashing about her as I spank her, willing her to cum on me.
“I want you to fill me,” she sighs, fingernails embedding into my skin. “I want your cum, baby. Give me your cum, cum with me! Please...!”
I feel the tension building in my balls, my hips are moving on an unstoppable course. I can't stop now. I'm just seconds away.
She speaks, but the words are quiet, fading away from me. I feel foggy and the sensation begins to numb. I have a horribly confused moment before it dawns on me. I want to scream in frustration as my eyes close and I feel myself drifting away. It's too fucking late.
My eyes groggily open again, blinking against the sunlight. Yawning, my fingers squeeze my solid erection and I groan at the immense ache it generates. Reaching for my phone, I glance at the time.
7 am. 29th of September.
God, no. Again? How do I get past this? Bill Murray was right, this is a fucking nightmare.
So much for that perfect day. Oh well. Take two.
Kaidence
- 25.01.2022
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- Category:
- Straight Sex
