Widows
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Widow's CompanionChapter 7 free porn video
It was morning before the voluptuous young blonde finally came to again on the rumpled bed. Her long-lashed blue eyes fluttered open and fought the early morning twilight that permeated the heavy stale air of the well-furnished and beautifully decorated bedroom. She stretched lazily, like a cat, her curvaceously proportioned body swaying in all of its sultry contours. Strange odors wafted through her nostrils, causing her brow to wrinkle slightly as though deep in concentrated retrospection. Her tongue circled on the outskirts of her glossy pink lips, testing the slight pungency of the encrustations that she found on them.
Her pretty, winsomely innocent eyes adjusted quizzically to the dimness, and she looked down at her body, reflecting on the curious position she had been sleeping in. Someone had changed her into a pink negligee, which was bunched up almost around her neck, the high twin rose-capped peaks of her proud young breasts jutted upward between her eyes and the rest of her body. Her legs were spread wide apart as though in invitation, and the muscles of those legs felt very sore and overworked indeed. She brought them together with some effort and experienced small twinges of pain in her vagina. Her entire body felt dreadfully used and exhausted. That was the only term she could think of to accurately describe how she felt.
And then she remembered. The dream! The most curious dream she had had about Handsome, and the Carters, and--what was it? She couldn't remember the rest of the dream, but then dreams were rarely remembered totally. And anyway the dull ache in her throbbing little cunt was sufficient to distract her from any deep thought.
Ellen smoothed her hands carefully up to her breasts, touching them gently in guarded exploration. Oooooh, they were tender. Her fingers explored further, coursing their way down over her tautly rounded belly to her still open legs. Then she groaned as she tenderly touched the slight bruises lining the moist pink lips of her pussy. Her outstretched middle finger probed gently at the sensitive opening, becoming moist from the sticky white liquid that was still flowing viscously from the recently deflowered aperture. The split of her buttocks felt damp with it as well.
Her thoughts rambled in myriad confusion she brushed her bright blonde hair from around her eyes and heaving breasts to let it fall in a soft golden mass around her back and shoulders. What a terrible dream she'd had, with Handsome and Mr. Carter and Dominique--their shadowy forms flitted sensuously through her teenage memory. It had all seemed so real.
But if it had all been a dream, where did this warm wet pool between her legs come from? Had she been playing with herself again, despite her best intentions? Had her own fingers produced this sticky liquid? It had to be! There could be no other explanation.
But how shameful, she thought, blushing. Her licentious dream had proven that she was not the prude she had fancied herself. She had wantonly satisfied herself with her own probing fingers.
Ellen's thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knocking at the door. Dominique's sophisticated voice came softly from the other side, "Oh, Ellen, dear. It's time to wake up."
For some unknown reason that lilting tone of Dominique's made Ellen shiver all over like a startled sparrow. She reflected on this strange reaction, than realized again what a terrible state she was in. Oh my, she thought, stumbling to her feet, I mustn't let her see me like this. I've got cum all over my loins and legs. "In a minute, Dominique. I'm just getting up."
"That's all right, dear," came the reply. "Take your time. Breakfast will be ready when you are."
Ellen sighed with relief and covered her suddenly tingling breasts with her hands. She would have a chance to clean up, then. She looked back at the rumpled bed, her eyes resting thoughtfully on the large wet round spot where her buttocks had nestled. Well, she thought, I really masturbated to beat the band. I should be ashamed of myself--yet somehow I'm not. There's not much point in feeling guilty about something I can't control.
And then she noticed the loose dog hairs in various part of the bed.
She picked up one of them and looked at it curiously, her eyes narrowing with puzzlement. Had Handsome gotten up on the bed some time during the night?
But one of the hairs was a lighter color--almost gray-- lighter than Handsome's fur. It was very puzzling. She shrugged and went into the bathroom to start up the shower.
The warm spray felt good cascading down over her voluptuous young body. She washed immaculately the insides of her thighs and buttocks, vaguely reluctant to wash away the white crust from her matted pussy hair. As her fingers moved up and down cleansingly within the warmth of her narrow sexual furrow, the vision she had had of Handsome in her dream returned most strongly.
She visualized the big German shepherd's snout pushed down between her hairless young thighs, his enormous tongue lapping thirstily at the flooded outskirts of her burning young pussy, her pink vaginal folds being drawn up hotly within his mouth by his sharply adhesive tongue, then returned. Her middle finger idly duplicated the vision of that lashing tongue, batting around her tingling little clitoris until she began to tremble with joy. It was all she could do to find the strength to rip her finger out of that clinging pleasure-drugged orifice.
As she staggered gasping from the shower, feelings of guilt and shame well-nigh overwhelmed her. Since that dreadful dream, she couldn't seem to keep her fingers out of herself for a single instant.
"I must get control of myself," she muttered. One obscene dream and I can't seem to stop masturbating. What's coming over me?
She sat before the vanity mirror naked, combing out her long silken blonde hair, which seemed to have an unusual number of tangles this morning. Still, she liked the way it swept around her waist, belly and over her proudly uplifted breasts when she let it. Something like Lady Godiva in the history books! Her father had never allowed her to have it cut when he was alive, and it was her pride and glory. She couldn't think of another girl in school who had such long beautiful hair. It went all the way down to her slender waspish waist.
Dottie
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