Morning Rush, Endless Desire

Just look at him. He could hardly fix his tie because his nerves were all over the place. It was my fault. After getting out of the shower, he was in a hurry to get to work because he was running late due to our early morning love-making. It was a fight for him to get out the house in the mornings; I was like the cup of love he couldn’t have his full of. The more he tasted, the more he lusted. I had a way of getting into his bloodstream, my effect on him was quicker than any medicine. I went straight to the brain. God, the man, was impressive. He turned his back to me while he got dressed because he didn’t want to see me laying there still rubbing my pussy, nor did he want me to see his bulging erection. Big mistake.

Just by looking at his ass, my liquids started flowing again. I envisioned that ass clenching and unclenched as it was bent between my thick thighs pumping away some minutes ago. The more I thought of his body lost in me, the more I rubbed my pussy. I rubbed my pussy as fast as I remembered he was pumping. “Ooh, mmm yes,” he turned around. “Mel, would you behave? I’m trying to get out of here.” I didn’t respond; the images of him were driving me wild. “Mel baby, please you’re killing me,” I kept looking directly at him as I rubbed. I inserted a finger and then another. “Ooh, wow,” his eyes turned to fire. He loved when something was inserted inside of me so he could see my pussy muscles hold on to it. He left his untied tie around his neck and stepped towards me while pulling down his pants and said, “I think you need something bigger and longer inside there. I have a sneaky suspicion that your cunt can expand a lot more.” He lowered his massive frame between my thighs, flung them around his shoulders, and went to work. I loved the feeling of him inside me stretching me. He was like a hammer in me.

I moaned in his chest and made circular movements around his nipples. He loved it. He loved when I moaned for him; I think it boosts his ego. Between his pumps, he asked, “Do you want me to make you cum, baby?” When my only response was a moan, he said, “Good, very good.” He turned me on my side and slapped my cunt with his dick and shoved it back in again. I was coming; I could feel the pressure build in my clit. He knew it and began to pump harder and deeper. “Yes, yes, yes, yeah baby yesssssssssssss.” My juices didn’t trickle down; they squirted out my pussy like an attack. This was his favorite part because my cum was plenteous, warm, and creamy. He loved when it splashed onto his lower abs. BEEP! It was Jessy, my husband’s ride to work, was here. He gave me a smirk and a quick kiss, promising to pick up where we left off in the night. I rolled over on my side, watching him with satisfaction as he hurriedly got dressed. I was so looking forward to later.

The scent of his cologne, a potent mix of sandalwood and musk, filled the small bathroom as he finally straightened his tie. The nervous energy that had clung to him moments before dissipated, replaced by a simmering anticipation that mirrored my own. He caught my eye across the room, a slow, deliberate glance that sent a fresh wave of heat through my body. It wasn’t just the memory of our frantic morning encounter that was fueling my desire; it was the knowledge that we were about to resume this dance, this passionate pursuit of pleasure that had become so integral to our lives.

I rose from the bed, my movements slow and deliberate, savoring the feeling of his gaze upon me. The silk sheets clung to my skin, a luxurious barrier between us as I moved towards the door. The hallway stretched before me, lined with the familiar objects of our shared life – framed family photos, a well-worn bookshelf, a vibrant collection of seashells collected on our last beach trip. Each item served as a tangible reminder of our connection, of the deep intimacy that bound us together.

As I reached the threshold, he moved to block my path, his hand gently resting on my lower back. The contact sent shivers down my spine, a primal response to his touch. He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear, whispering, "Don't even think about leaving." His voice was a low rumble, laced with a possessiveness that both thrilled and unsettled me. He pulled me closer, his arms encircling my waist, and pressed a kiss to my neck, sending a jolt of electricity through my nerves.

The urgency in his touch was undeniable. He wanted me, now, and he wanted me badly. It was a sensation that ignited a fire within me, a burning need to submit to his control. I leaned into his embrace, clinging to him as if my life depended on it. We moved slowly, deliberately, savoring each stolen moment, each whispered word, each lingering touch. The air crackled with unspoken desires, a silent promise of the delights to come.

We found refuge in the bedroom, the same sanctuary where our passion had begun. The bed, a sprawling king-sized affair, felt both intimate and expansive, as if designed specifically for our needs. As I lay entangled in his arms, I could feel his muscles tense beneath my touch, a subtle indication of his arousal. He began to stroke me slowly, methodically, tracing the contours of my body with his fingertips. Each caress was deliberate, focused on maximizing my pleasure, pushing me closer to the brink.

His hands moved with a practiced ease, exploring every inch of my skin. The heat intensified, building in waves as he increased the pace. I moaned softly, a rhythmic sound that seemed to fuel his movements, deepening his desire. He shifted his weight, pulling me closer, his body pressing against mine. The scent of his arousal, a potent combination of sweat and testosterone, filled my nostrils, further stimulating my senses.

With a final, decisive movement, he lowered himself onto me, his weight pressing down on my body. The sensation was both overwhelming and exhilarating. He continued his exploration, his hands delving deeper, reaching for the sensitive areas that caused me to gasp. The pleasure was intense, almost unbearable, as my muscles tensed and contracted involuntarily.

As he reached the point of no return, he let out a guttural groan, a primal expression of his own arousal. He thrust himself into me, penetrating my pussy with a force that sent shock waves through my body. The pressure was immense, but I welcomed it, surrendering completely to the sensations.

My body convulsed in response, a symphony of moans and cries of pleasure. My clitoris pulsed with intense pleasure, my pussy muscles clenching and releasing in a frantic rhythm. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated ecstasy, a complete loss of control. I lost myself in the pleasure, forgetting everything except the feel of his body inside me.

As he continued to penetrate me, I felt myself losing consciousness, my senses fading away. The world narrowed to the sensation of his touch, the heat of his body, the rhythm of our movements. It was a blissful oblivion, a complete surrender to the pleasures of the moment.

When he finally withdrew, panting heavily, I lay there, spent and breathless, a radiant smile spreading across my lips. The lingering warmth of his touch was a comforting reminder of the connection we shared, the deep intimacy that defined our relationship. Looking up at him, I saw the same exhilaration in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the shared experience that had just unfolded.

He gently stroked my hair, his fingers tracing patterns across my scalp. "You were magnificent," he whispered, his voice husky with pleasure. "Absolutely magnificent." His words were a balm to my senses, a validation of my desires, a confirmation that our passion was real and powerful.

As he pulled me closer, burying his face in my hair, I knew that this was just the beginning. We had just completed a particularly intense encounter, but there were countless hours, days, and nights ahead of us, filled with the promise of further exploration, further pleasure, further connection. And as long as we continued to share this intoxicating dance, this passionate pursuit of pleasure, we would never be truly satisfied.

The memory of his touch, the heat of his body, the rhythm of our movements, would linger in my mind long after we had finished. It was a potent reminder of the power of desire, the joy of submission, and the enduring strength of our bond. As I drifted off to sleep, nestled against his chest, I knew that I was exactly where I was meant to be, lost in the arms of the man who held my heart captive.

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Morning Rush, Endless Desire

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