STORMY MORNING

A STORMY MORNING

As if someone had timidly nudged me in the side. Very delicately, but strongly enough to wake me. I obediently woke up, but continued to lie there, eyes closed, struggling to comprehend what had suddenly interrupted my sleep. There was an amazing silence! The windows of our hotel room faced the sea, whose complete calm produced no sound of surf or even the light rustle of waves on the coastal sand. And it was about two hundred meters away.

Yesterday, our group celebrated the start of the vacation and getting acquainted. The group consisted of five couples who had been brought to this hotel from the plane that arrived on a charter flight with tourists. And practically without prior agreement,

we went out to dinner almost simultaneously.

The beloved Russian category "all-inclusive" gave complete freedom in choosing dishes and drinks, and practically all of us, including our women, quickly got drunk on free alcohol. When a small orchestra appeared in the hall and started going from table to table, dancing began, during which we essentially got the chance to get to know the representatives of the opposite sex better.

You were on fire. You danced several times with all the gentlemen, this music, the alcohol, the hot embraces of strange men to the slow rhythms of the melodies thoroughly aroused you, and shortly before dinner ended you promised that today you would rape me yourself. But, after taking a shower and sprawling on the wide bed, you fell asleep that very minute, and I, after my own water procedures, didn't dare wake you, expecting that in the morning we would more than make up for what wasn't done in the evening.

For a while I lay with my eyes closed, hoping that sleep would overpower me again immediately, but your barely noticeable movement forced me to half-open my eyes. You were lying in the same pose of a sleeping Venus as in the evening, legs spread wide, your right hand on your stomach; in the rays of the approaching morning penetrating the thick curtains, I could clearly see how your fingers were cautiously touching the very bottom of your neatly trimmed pubic mound.

I was lying on my left side, my head tilted in such a way that I couldn't see your face, just as you couldn't see my eyes either. I lay motionless, and with even breathing gave no sign that I was awake. I could lie like that as long as I wanted, because bliss wouldn't let me go, and besides, I saw that my little mischief-maker was starting a game with herself.

Now your hand moved downward, apparently your fingers either slipped inside or you simply ran them along your charming bud, now your hand went upward, and at that moment your elbow lightly pressed into my stomach. So that's what woke me! It really was a light nudge from my girlfriend.

After some time, the palm crept down again, your fingers began to flutter near your clitoris, a little more, your body tensed, your fingers fluttered faster, a sigh of relief was heard, and your body stretched out relaxed.

Ah, you my lovely rogue! After all, not so long ago you flatly refused to admit that you sometimes caress yourself, moreover, you rejected the very possibility of such a thought, calling it a perversion. My talks that there is nothing reprehensible in masturbation, that it is a completely normal phenomenon, which the vast majority of women resort to, both as a prelude and simply for pleasure, could not convince you. Or had you, no different from others, engaged in self-satisfaction before, but didn't want to admit it to me, your future husband? Be that as it may, you just had an orgasm, and I was a witness to it.

An involuntary one. Do you think I'm fast asleep, and therefore decided to treat yourself with your fingers to relieve the sexual tension that had been building since the restaurant? I saw that you did it. But are you content with just this one (one? or maybe you woke up a long time ago and have been enjoying your solitude for a long time?) or will you continue the sweet activity and give me the joy of witnessing another sweet orgasm?

You rested a little, spread your legs wider again, and the tips of your fingers fluttered once more around the swollen clitoris. Very little time, and you arched forward, your fingers dove deep inside, you jerked your lower abdomen several times, moaned louder than the first time, and sank onto the bed, trembling finely all over. Through the elbow pressed against me, I felt this trembling, similar to the one that shakes the body during a severe chill.

Another minute of peace, and now I can see how a second hand came to the aid of the first. Now the left one is teasing the clitoris, the fingers of the right one are buried inside and imitating the invasion of my lad. Ah, you, my beloved! How well you do it! Should I "wake up" and help you? Or lie a little longer, not interfering with your pleasure? Probably, if you wanted to feel me inside, you would have shaken me awake long ago, sat on top, as you've done many times, or hugged me and turned so that I would be on top.

But you are doing neither, which means you want to fully enjoy your fingers. Alright, my dear. I won't interfere, although my mischief-maker has long been engorged with blood and is pulsing impatiently, waiting for the moment it can thrust into the hot womb. Or maybe you'll want to treat me today and take it into your wonderful mouth, caress it with your full lips?

But you are in no hurry to call on me to enjoy it together. You think I'm fast asleep, and are enjoying yourself to the fullest in solitude. But you are elevating yourself to the peak of voluptuousness with your fingers for the umpteenth time! Ah, and again you are in the world of your fantasies and sensations! Each subsequent orgasm far surpasses the previous one, I wonder what the one will be like that finally deprives you of strength, and you fully enjoy the apotheosis of unbridled passion!

I stretch out my hand, place my palm on your chest, heaving from heavy breathing, lift my head slightly, and look into your eyes. They are closed, but when my hand begins to stroke the taut hill of your breast, you open your eyes, veiled in passion, and smile guiltily:

— I couldn't stand it any longer…. I really, really wanted to…

— You're great! – I whisper and kiss you on the lips. – I really enjoyed admiring you…. You are so beautiful in the heat of passion! I love you very, very much!

— I love you very much too, darling!

Your whisper is like the rustle of autumn leaves.

— Did you really like it?

— Yes, very, very much! But I want affection too. My mischief-maker also wants to relieve tension.

— Wait a little…. Please! Let me rest a bit.

I gently kissed you on the corners of your lips, then on your neck, on your right breast, which seductively whitened so close by. Your hands were still down below… You were resting, in no hurry to remove them from the place of pleasure where they had just been working such magic.

— Darling, do you still want to do it yourself?

— No… I'm tired. I have no strength at all…

— What about me? Darling, I want to too…

— My love, you show me too how you do it yourself… well, please! I want to see it too… you saw how I do it…

— Do you really want to see how I masturbate?

— Yes! Very much! You see what a depraved girl I am?

— You are a very good girl to me!

I kissed my fiancée on the lips firmly, our tongues touched each other's tips… Then I leaned back onto my back, gripped the shaft at the very bottom with my left hand, and began to slowly move my right palm along the shaft. But impatience was growing, I didn't want to hold back for long. I would have burst into my girlfriend's womb right now and poured myself out there, but you complained of being tired… My hand moved faster and faster. I glanced sideways and saw that my love was watching my manipulations without looking away. This excited me even more, and now the first thick fountain shot upward.

I quickly turned on my side, brought my little mischief-maker close to the breasts of my darling, let loose a second fountain. The drops fell on her chest, neck, on her cheek, one landed on her upper lip and slowly began to slide down. My darling licked it off with her tongue, as if tasting it, quickly arched and, grabbing the shaft with her left hand, took the head into her mouth and began to appetizingly swallow everything that had accumulated in me overnight, and especially during the session of observing my beloved. When the last drops flowed out of me, my darling trembled again in the ensuing orgasm, which she received from my deeply taken-in mischief-maker and from her own fingers, which she still hadn't removed from her treasure.