Dawn's Touch: A Wet Awakening

The rain hammered against the windows of my penthouse apartment, mirroring the insistent thrumming in my own veins. It was far too early for this, I thought, a dark premonition clinging to the edges of my senses. But the insistent pull, the primal need, was already too strong to resist. I’d been anticipating this moment for weeks, meticulously planning the perfect descent into pleasure, and now, here I was, poised on the precipice of a symphony of sensation.

She lay sprawled across the king-sized bed, a vision in pale silk and exposed skin. The morning light, filtering through the sheer curtains, illuminated every curve, every swell, every tantalizing hint of what lay beneath. Her breathing was slow and even, a gentle rhythm that only heightened my anticipation. It was a dangerous game, this, a reckless abandon that could easily consume us both. But the thought of denying my desires, of holding back from the exquisite torture of teasing and torment, was unbearable.

I started slowly, deliberately, my movements measured and sensual. My hand, calloused from countless encounters, traced the line of her spine, sending shivers down her body. I could feel the subtle tremor that rippled through her muscles as she shifted slightly beneath my touch. It was a delicious invitation, a silent plea for more. I leaned closer, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her skin, a blend of vanilla and something uniquely her own.

Then, I began the slow, deliberate rub, my fingertips dancing across her naked flesh. It wasn’t a frantic, desperate assault, but a calculated exploration, a teasing prelude to the true pleasure that awaited. Her body responded instantly, her muscles tensing, her breath hitching in her throat. A delicate flush crept up her neck, painting her skin with a rosy hue. I increased the pressure, deepening the grooves in her back, focusing on the sensitive knots of muscle that ran along her spine.

Her breathing grew heavier, more ragged, as the anticipation mounted. I could hear the faint murmur of her pleasure, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through the bedsheets. I shifted my weight, bringing my hips closer, my body molding to hers. The warmth of her skin against mine was intense, a burning sensation that sent shivers down my own spine.

Now, my hand descended lower, sliding between her legs, seeking the delicate folds of her labia. It was an act of both dominance and submission, a display of control tempered by an undeniable vulnerability. Her muscles clenched involuntarily as my fingers traced the contours of her vulva, teasing and tantalizing her with the promise of what was to come. The feeling was exquisite, a slow burn that built with each passing second.

Carefully, deliberately, I began to pull her underwear away, one thread at a time, revealing the soft, pale flesh beneath. Her body writhed in response, a silent scream of delight. The air thickened with anticipation, charged with the electric current of her arousal.

Finally, her underwear lay discarded on the floor, a silent testament to the raw desire that consumed us both. My hand, now trembling with anticipation, moved to her clitoris, preparing to unleash the full force of my pleasure. I began to lick, slowly, deliberately, savoring each inch of her sensitive skin. The taste of her arousal was intoxicating, a blend of salt and sweetness that sent waves of pleasure through my body.

Her hips began to press into my mouth, seeking the intense stimulation she craved. Her brain, finally catching up with the sensations, kicked in, and her screams started to build. It was a desperate attempt to hold back the flood of pleasure, but it was futile. The first orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, a violent expulsion of pent-up desire. She clutched at my face, her teeth clenched in agony, her body convulsing with the intensity of the experience.

Just as she began to recover from her first climax, I thrust my cock deep within her, a searing injection of pleasure that shattered her fragile composure. Another orgasm ripped through her, even more violent than the first, leaving her gasping for air, her body wracked with spasms. Her cries of pleasure mingled with her desperate attempts to control the overwhelming sensation.

As she slowly came down from the second orgasm, I noticed the subtle changes in her breathing, the way her body relaxed, the lingering heat in her skin. My gaze drifted down, tracing the curve of her clitoris, still tingling from the recent stimulation. Then, my hand gently traced the line of her neck, her shoulders, and her chest, giving her a sense of comfort and security.

I shifted my weight, rolling off of her and positioning myself for another assault. She lay there, vulnerable and exposed, her body already anticipating the next wave of pleasure. I lowered myself onto her, grinding my pelvis into hers, feeling her muscles tense and contract in response to the increasing pressure. Soon, she began to moan, a low, guttural sound that escalated into a full-blown scream as I filled her with a torrent of semen.

Her third orgasm consumed her, a final, explosive release of pent-up desire. She collapsed on top of me in blissful abandon, her body writhing in ecstasy. Her cunt spasmodically emptied me, releasing the final vestiges of my pleasure. We lay there in the most intimate of embraces, clinging to each other as we struggled to regain our breath.

As the rain continued to lash against the windows, I gently roused her, my fingers brushing against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing a smoldering desire that mirrored my own. I knew what she wanted, what she craved, and I was more than happy to oblige. With a slow, deliberate movement, I began to prepare for work, knowing that the memories of our shared pleasure would linger long after the morning light had faded. It really was too early, but the pleasure was worth every second.

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Dawn's Touch: A Wet Awakening

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