Breakfast in Bed, Dirty Desire

The message program pinged, a digital siren call that yanked me from the lukewarm comfort of my hotel room in Phoenix. Lucy’s words, dripping with desire and a touch of playful provocation, still echoed in my head – “Wish you were home. I was planning breakfast in bed. A big breakfast and you would be the main course.” It was a strange invitation, a blatant request for something both thrilling and slightly absurd, yet I couldn't resist. My heart pounded a primal rhythm against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of anticipation. I was in town for a business conference, a necessary evil that allowed me this momentary escape into a world of pure, unadulterated lust. The distance between us felt like a vast ocean, a frustrating barrier to the intimacy we craved, but Lucy’s words ignited a fire within me, a burning need to bridge that gap.

As the reply flashed across my screen, my fingers trembled slightly as I typed back, “Sounds great. Would love to eat you for breakfast and be eaten!” The urgency in my own words surprised even me. It wasn’t just a casual suggestion; it was a declaration of intent, a bold assertion of my own desires. The thrill of the forbidden, the power dynamic inherent in her invitation, was intoxicating. I pictured her in her own bedroom, her body a canvas of sensual delights, and a shiver ran down my spine.

“I will prepare it and get in bed next to you. Then I want some pudding,” she responded, her words painting a vivid picture of the sensual chaos that awaited. The thought of being close to her, even virtually, was both terrifying and exhilarating. I knew she was waiting for my explicit consent, my enthusiastic acceptance of her twisted fantasy. The next line, “You will be my pudding,” confirmed my suspicions. The playful cruelty in her tone was a delicious paradox – she wanted to be devoured, yet she was in control of the narrative. It was a dance of dominance and submission, a thrilling exchange of power.

“Spit or swallow?” she challenged, her digital smirk palpable. This was where the game truly began, a descent into a world of sensual exploration where boundaries blurred and inhibitions melted away. The question itself was loaded with implications, a suggestion of both oral pleasure and the complete absorption of her essence. I hesitated for a moment, weighing the risks and rewards, before responding with a decisive affirmation: “That should not even be a question. You know me. I love your taste.” My words were a testament to my own appetites, a declaration of my willingness to embrace her depraved desires.

“Oh yes! I know so well and…. I want to tell you something!!!!!! Please ask me “What?”” she urged, her voice dripping with anticipation. The suspense was almost unbearable. The anticipation built within me, a crescendo of lust that threatened to consume me entirely. I took a deep breath and typed, “OK, What! What do you want to tell me?” The moment stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity. Then, her response arrived, a confession that shattered my expectations and ignited a new wave of desire: “When I came in your mouth yesterday it was an extreme sensation. It was so sexy. You did stuff with your lips and tongue that sent me over the top. In the end you held me in your mouth. I took over and came in your mouth while masturbating. Did you feel how much I actually came?”

Her detailed description of our previous encounter was both shocking and strangely satisfying. The image of her body, vulnerable and helpless in my grasp, was seared into my mind. The realization that she had taken control, that she had dominated me in that moment, fueled my desire even further. “I am so glad that you feel like that. I wanted to do so much more,” I typed back, unable to contain my excitement. The thought of experiencing her pleasure, of surrendering completely to her desires, was overwhelming.

“On the way to drop you off at the airport….In the car was so good for me. I loved it. I am nuts about the flavor of your cum. I love sucking you while you drive. I try to focus on what you are doing while I am focused on what I am doing.” Her words painted a vivid picture of our shared intimacy, a sensual journey fueled by lust and abandon. The image of her body pressed against mine, the scent of her arousal filling the car, was intoxicating. It felt as if time had stopped, as if the world outside had ceased to exist.

“It felt as if I was cumming twice. A second cum directly after the first one. I came and then suddenly it started again. I went onto another high and thought I was going to pass out. It felt as if gallons of cum was spurting out of my cock. It was incredible.” Her description of her orgasm was both graphic and exhilarating. The sheer volume of her release, the intensity of her pleasure, was a testament to her own sensual power. “Measured on how much I had to swallow, it must have been incredible,” I agreed, my own body trembling with anticipation.

“Was there a lot?” she inquired, her voice laced with curiosity. I hesitated, unsure of how to answer her question without revealing too much. Finally, I typed, “It was not just one or two gulps. I had to swallow and swallow and swallow.” The confession felt like a release, a letting go of all inhibitions. The image of her body convulsing with pleasure, her pussy overflowing with my essence, was both repulsive and captivating.

“I want to talk more about cumming. Can you believe that I am discussing my cumming?” she asked, her tone playful and provocative. The thought of delving deeper into our shared fantasies was both terrifying and exciting. “Oh yes! I love talking about it, so let’s talk. You can cum any place but not on my face. I find it so sexy on my boobs, my tummy, my clit, my arse and in my pussy. I love feeling you spurting inside of me. But talk more about your cumming. I find it very exciting and I am getting very wet right now.” Her explicit desires were a challenge, a test of my own boundaries. I took a deep breath and responded, “Let me tell you why I came so much and with so much feeling. I realize that we are still finding our boundaries, but I have a tremendous desire to masturbate with you. I want to sit on one chair while you sit on another one facing me.”

“Oh shit, this is so wonderful to hear. Tell me more. Please do not stop.” she urged, her voice filled with anticipation. “While you are sitting on the other chair, completely naked (both of us) I want to see how you play with your pussy. But not only with your fingers.” Her instructions were explicit, demanding a level of vulnerability that both thrilled and frightened me. The thought of surrendering my control, of exposing my own sensuality, was daunting. But the desire to please her, to fulfill her every whim, was too strong to resist.

“I am so excited. I want to experience all these wonderful things with you.” I typed, my fingers trembling slightly. “You must use everything that you can. Toys, vibrators, your fingers, and…. what else do you have?” Her list of tools of pleasure was both intriguing and unsettling. The idea of incorporating these objects into our shared fantasies was a step further into the realm of forbidden desires. I thought about the arsenal she had described: my trusty Bunny-ear vibrator, my anal beads, my blue dolphin dildo. The thought of these objects, designed for maximum sensation, sent shivers down my spine.

“It drives me nuts to think about it. And then I want to play with my cock while you watch me. No hurry. I want to experience every movement of my hands and watch your face as I do it. With no shame.” She continued, her words painting a vivid picture of the power dynamic at play. The image of me, vulnerable and exposed, while she watched with unbridled lust, was both disturbing and exhilarating.

“I love using my anal beads when I am jilling. I have four or five strings.” She added, her voice dripping with anticipation. “I have never seen it used and have not experienced it myself. Maybe I can use one of yours for myself.” The suggestion was shocking, a blatant invitation to cross the line. But the thought of experiencing her pleasure, of being the object of her desire, was too alluring to ignore. “I thought so. Great idea.” I responded, my heart pounding in my chest. “You will have to help me with that.”

“I am all ears (and now have one very wet pussy).” she replied, her words dripping with anticipation. “Let me tell you why I came so much and with so much feeling. I realize that we are still finding our boundaries, but I have a tremendous desire to masturbate with you. I want to sit on one chair while you sit on another one facing me.” She repeated her previous request, emphasizing the importance of the arrangement.

“Oh yes! I love talking about it, so let’s talk. You can cum any place but not on my face. I find it so sexy on my boobs, my tummy, my clit, my arse and in my pussy. I love feeling you spurting inside of me. But talk more about your cumming. I find it very exciting and I am getting very wet right now.” She continued to push me, determined to delve deeper into our shared fantasies. “While you are sitting on the other chair, completely naked (both of us) I want to see how you play with your pussy. But not only with your fingers.” Her words were a challenge, a test of my own resolve. The thought of surrendering completely, of exposing my own sensuality, was daunting, but the desire to please her, to fulfill her every whim, was too strong to resist.

“I am so excited. I want to experience all these wonderful things with you.” I typed, my fingers trembling slightly. “You must use everything that you can. Toys, vibrators, your fingers, and…. what else do you have?” She continued her list, her voice filled with anticipation. I thought about the arsenal she had described: my trusty Bunny-ear vibrator, my anal beads, my blue dolphin dildo. The thought of these objects, designed for maximum sensation, sent shivers down my spine.

“It drives me nuts to think about it. And then I want to play with my cock while you watch me. No hurry. I want to experience every movement of my hands and watch your face as I do it. With no shame.” She continued, her words painting a vivid picture of the power dynamic at play. The image of me, vulnerable and exposed, while she watched with unbridled lust, was both disturbing and exhilarating. “You must use everything that you can. Toys, vibrators, your fingers, and…. what else do you have?” she repeated, emphasizing the importance of the arrangement.

“My trusty Bunny-ear vibrator, my anal beads, my blue dolphin dildo. I have the entire crew.” She replied, her voice dripping with anticipation. The thought of these objects, designed for maximum sensation, sent shivers down my spine. “It drives me nuts to think about it.” she continued. “And then I want to play with my cock while you watch me. No hurry. I want to experience every movement of my hands and watch your face as I do it. With no shame.”

The hours melted away as we continued our conversation, delving deeper into our shared fantasies. Each message, each word, fueled my desire and brought me closer to the edge of ecstasy. Finally, as the first rays of dawn began to filter through my hotel room window, I typed one last message: “You should know that we girls work in our heads and with our bodies at the same time.” The message hung in the digital ether, a testament to our shared desires and the power of our connection. Then, with a final ping, the chat closed, leaving me breathless and trembling, yet utterly satisfied.

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