It's 7 am, and I have a terrible strain on my neck. I've been sleeping face up, rolling around, waking in the strangest positions.
You were supposed to arrive yesterday, but I haven't heard a single thing since our last message. I'm frustrated that you're not here, after months, and wonder if you'll ever be back.
It's 7 am, it's cold, and I have a terrible strain on my neck. I sit up and notice my hard nipples through the shirt that you find sexy but I hate. I pinch them through the fabric, stretching my legs and breathing deeply. I imagine you rubbing my toes and devouring me with your eyes, demanding my nakedness. But I've had it for now.
I rip open the stupid blouse, throwing it off, licking my fingers and pinching my nipples rapidly. My legs kick off the sheets and I stare at those red panties that turn you on so much. I dig my right hand into them, while the left one plays with my breasts. I squeal. It's so cold outside, and yet I'm in flames. I can feel my hard clit, almost dying to be exposed. I kneel and take them off, sitting back up again and rubbing it in circles.
I know my neck is flushing red with blood, just like you like it. I can almost feel you kissing it, licking, while a finger enters my pussy, and I let out a big moan. It comes up to rub my clit and down again. But it's not enough. I turn around and wildly start to hump my pillow, screaming your name. I feel a chill each time my clit touches the fabric.
I scream your name, riding you in my dreams, my hair all over my face. Faster. Faster. Faster. Until my whole body stops, and I start shaking. I land flat on the bed, gasping for air. But you wouldn't be done yet. I continue rubbing more slowly, the way you lick me after fucking me hard, knowing that I can do more. Knowing that it's not over. And in a matter of seconds I'm back.
I roll over and push my face in the pillow, fingering myself from behind, brushing my asshole every now and then and moaning even more. And then I see it, sitting on my beside table: it's that dildo we use when you can't get hard anymore. Ten inches, just like you. I smile and take it. I've never fucked myself from behind.
I slowly push it in, feeling my cunt stretching, and pull back out. Soon enough, it slips in and out of me. Slowly at first. But the tip brushes against my clit, just like you sometimes. I want more, and so I go faster, breathing rapidly. Oh, God. It could never stop, and yet I feel like I'm hitting a dead end with each thrust.
Something bubbles up inside me after each long, loud moan. I fuck myself like an animal. My heart beats so fast, if feels like it's going to pop out - and then I reach it. A point where I can only pull back. My breath slows. And when it's about to go out, I feel it.
I scream like I've never screamed before, as juices pour out of my tight pussy, raining into the sheets. I can barely catch my breath, crawling into the mattress, sighing. I look down. It's so similar to your cum. My fingers reach for it and taste.
I close my eyes. It's 8 am, I have a terrible strain on my neck, and I'm waiting for you.
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/masturbation/morning-impulse-part-1.aspx">Morning Impulse - Part 1</a>