Sunday (Killingkittens' story)

Sunday morning.
It's very early, even though the sun has raised time ago and I'm liying on my bed at feet, writting frantic on my notebook an erotic story. Almost an hour has passed by since I woke up feeling hot, with the images of what happened last night in mind, and I'm triying to represent them in words to always remember and so others can enjoy them through my writtings.

You are sleeping on the right part of the bed, sideways, your left arm stands comfortably extended on my pillow.

I leave my story on the beside table and I lay up half bed, stretching on a yawn.

My wrists fall over your open hand and that awakens again my feverish imagination. I picture you holding them hard, maybe having tied them before with some handcuffs, yeah, that will be so fine... I sight.
I put my legs together, rubbing them, feeling erotic. My left wrist stands there on your palm as my right hand slowly descends, caressing lightly my chest, as it was your own hand. In my dream you look at me fix, getting hard with my body at your will, full of desire for your touch.
Your right hand is actually beside my waist, I catch it on my way down and I guide it through my skin, letting it rest over my pubis.
Start to jerk off, feeling the heat and the pressure of the weight of your hand down under, imagining that it is you who is doing it, your mouth close to my ear, whispering with deep voice: "well done, whore, move!... you like it, uh? you are so damn wet! ... I want to see you come "...

I feel your warm breath on my neck, I love when you kiss me there, you know that when you do it, I lose control and you enjoy that a lot. But now you want to make me suffer.

My pussy is so wet, throbbing, my fingers move with precision on my clit, the pleasant little pain of your absence on my inside, I want to get your fingers deep inside me but I'm delaying it, postponing the moment ...

Your left hand has been closing round my wrist in your sleep, that gives more realism to my fantasy and I have to choke a groan on my forearm. I'm panting, mouth dry, I lick my lips to get them moist. If you'd wake up now and find me like this, what would you say? Will you like it?

I have closed my eyes, fantasizing that you're actually making me believe you're still asleep, having fun with how I feel, and that you will drop your hand at any time and bury your fingers on my pussy. I figure them in and out of me, covered with white fluid, my vaginal muscles just trying to caught'em, my hips moving up and down following your rythm, both in my head and in reality. Your hand is so hot! And I want you so badly to do it! That makes me go faster, your voice in my dream is still saying, "well done, well done, move on, come for me"...

But just when I'm about to get it, you stir in your sleep, turn around, loose my wrist and get away from my belly, leaving me all hot, dripping and upset because you're really still asleep.

I bite your arm and shock you awake. "Witch!" you say affectionately, "What time is it? ... It's too early! It is Sunday!...

I do not know if I should explain you what has happened and let you end the anxiety that I have between my legs or enjoy a little bit more of this little torture.

I lay face down on the bed and, holding back my pen and pad, start a new worksheet and detail everything that just has happened. I still feel very excited, so I insert a finger inside me as I write and my pussy sucks it like a baby. Puff! If I'm not going to finish it, I'd better leave it alone, I think.

You scratch your back, contrite, trying to decide if you keep on sleeping or wake up now. When you opt for a quick visit to the bathroom, you give me a glance and ask me what I'm writting. I answer that all the stuff I've been doing while you slept. "Have you abused a lot of me?" you say laughing. I take your place in bed, still with the warmth of your body, because it is closer to the door and you'll hear me more clearly. I begin to explain you in detail how hot I got, the things I thought you were doing me...

When you come back, you lay by my side, on my previous site, listening carefully, I could say that I managed to wake up at all, you like what you hear. You're caressing my ass while we look at each others eyes, your hand has decided to go down between my ajar thighs, finding me still very wet.

One finger starts entering me very slowly, and I stop talking. I'm going crazy 'cause that's just what I wanted you to do. I've lost my pen but I do not mind, I look after it later. I groan on the mattress, legs wide open now, you're lying over my back, your other hand on its way under my body reaching my swollen clit, masturbating me strongly.

"I'll give you a good ending to your story." I stick to the bars of the bed, running again my fantasy of being immobilized, your hands knowing what I wish, they adapt perfectly to my movements, you bite me gently on the shoulder, whispering me things I like to hear and finally I feel it coming. The long delay of my orgasm makes it very intense, I lose sight of the world, and do not know who I am, everything becomes bright orange.

Your fingers are deeply stuck inside me feeling my coming and then I relax, I let go, enjoying the sensations. I laugh out loud, happy. We stay in bed, easy.

I will reward you and write this sweet ending a little later, no rush, after all, it's Sunday.

Lately I've heard a story. It's said that everytime a woman touches herself to get some pleasure, God kills a little cat in punishment. That's why they call "killingkittens" to women's masturbation. That's why I call my story like that.