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Trina woke from her light drowse when Eric came to bed, but didn’t stir. The gentle sway of the mattress when he sank down onto it did little more than jostle her. Almost absently, he touched her in the small of her back, over her nightgown, and trailed his fingers down past her hip, beyond the hem mid-thigh, and behind her bare knee. It tickled, but she didn’t want to make love, didn’t really want him on top of her or inside her. She loved Eric dearly, but it was a mood thing, sometimes, when she just wanted to sleep.
“Honey?” Eric’s whisper was low, barely voiced, but she could hear the husky undercurrent of his need. She mumbled something purposely incoherent, and shook her leg in mock irritation, as if at the touch of a fly. She felt his hand pause, then withdraw, and the bed shook again as he turned away, lying on his back, she was certain. She glanced at the clock-radio by her bed, and made out through barely opened eyes that it was twenty minutes of three. It was Friday evening, Saturday morning really, but she wanted to get up early to jog, by herself of course, as she had for the past two years. Maybe in the morning after her run she would strip out of her sweatsuit, sliding naked into bed, and wake his cock first with her fingers, then her tongue and lips, fucking him awake to both their orgasms. Then we can shower, and fuck there, too. Just not tonight.
Their marriage was a good, solid one. In her early thirties now, Trina still had most of the energy and vigor she had ten years earlier, and, she admitted almost guiltily, she still looked good naked. A trim blonde at the altar, with shoulder length tresses and an athletic build, she had stayed in shape almost religiously, gaining maybe ten pounds, which, evenly distributed around her body, a gift of heredity, made her look slightly more solid, but not what anyone would call fat, or even “pleasingly plump.”
Eric was also fit, athletic. They had met jogging, which he no longer did, and he had put on a little more weight than she, but carried it equally as well. His black hair and thick moustache, and what she called his black forest, the mat of kinky black hair spanning his chest from his neckline down his belly, to his luxuriant jet pubic hair, thinning just past his crotch to little more than fuzz, had always attracted her. His stomach had started to thicken after he hit his thirties, and he was five years older than her. Still, he looks gorgeous naked, and will for a while I’m sure, she thought.
She remembered wistfully the two years after their wedding, waiting eagerly for him to come home, when she would pretend to be asleep then, too. Instead of staying still, she would whip off the blankets, greeting him as naked as he soon was. His thick, sturdy cock fit perfectly as she let it creep inside her moist cunt, slick and slippery with her juices. Sometimes he’d start, or finish, fucking the valley between her tits, as she held them tight against his member, playing with her nipples.
Her heart skipped a beat as she played one of their many lovemaking sessions through, recalling how she straddled him, facing his feet, and leaned back until she was lying on him, and his hands roamed over her naked torso, rubbing her clit and tits, strumming her nipples, while he fucked her from underneath, really from behind. She’d cum twice while he was inside her, she remembered with a longing she hadn’t felt moments earlier.
Trina thought it was a snore at first, a soft whisper of air behind her back, from the direction her husband laid. The covers were bunched between them; not a big surprise, since Eric liked to lie under just a sheet, or nothing. He’s asleep, then. She was almost excited enough by the memory of fucking him to turn over and go down on him, suck him to the point a droplet of sweet precum would dance onto her tongue, then hop on top, popping his dick inside her and rocking her way to an orgasm.
Still, he was asleep now, and there was little enough reason to wake him, now that he was. Disappointed and horny now, she resigned herself to falling asleep unfulfilled.
She heard it again. Not a breath. What?
Lying completely still, holding her breath, she heard something soft, moving with deliberate slowness against something else, almost stealthily. As she keened her ears at the source of the noise, it stopped suddenly, at the same moment she realized the source. It’s Eric! What the hell?
She realized that it was her stillness that had stopped whatever he was doing, so she stretched dreamily, a little arch of her back, and coughed before nestling her head into the pillow. She forced herself to start breathing, relaxing and listening for the sound to resume.
After a couple of minutes, she heard it again, that soft movement. It started, then slowed to a crawl, and resumed again. The sound was almost like someone pacing and gliding on socks on a shag carpet, back and forth, back and forth… The soft, güvenilir bahis furry noise continued, starting to lull her to sleep again, moving constantly, the pace picking up slightly, a gentle rasping of something, moving up and down, rubbing…
She almost stopped breathing again, and forced herself to continue, sipping air through her parted lips. Up and down? Rubbing? Her senses strained to learn more. She could hear Eric’s breath now, also steady and low, a swallow as he kept mostly still, almost nothing moving in the darkness of their room. What little light came through the window seemed to deepen the shadows, so even if she could have turned over without alarming him, she would have seen nothing.
Still Eric took little, silent breaths in rhythm to the soft noise. Concentrating, she could feel movement, barely tangible, but also in time to his breath and the motion, which had to be his fingers, moving back and forth, up and down, rubbing himself.
Shit! He’s jacking off right next to me! Trina was outraged at first, but only for a moment. She had turned him down emphatically, even if he didn’t know her emphasis had been conscious. He’d probably come to bed naked, ready to wake her and fuck for a couple of hours, or at least a few blissful minutes. When she didn’t welcome him warmly with open legs, he had to do something, obviously. She could sympathize, since now she was in the same boat. I can’t exactly turn over and interrupt him, let him know I wasn’t really sleeping. Can I?
Her repositioning minutes earlier had moved her from her usual curling up on her right side to lying slightly on her back, and her left leg was almost straight. Her nightgown had slid up slightly, so that the hem lay just below her crotch. She felt the warmth of her own pussy, and a sympathetic moistness as her body began to respond, almost unwillingly, to the solo act inches away from her.
Trina had seldom masturbated, even as she knew boys did. As a high school senior, days after her eighteenth birthday, she had walked in on her brother, a year older than her, in the bathroom, standing and admiring his trim, naked body as his stiff, engorged cock humped his soapy fist. The shock of seeing him had kept her watching for a minute or more, unable to turn away from the sight. It wasn’t long before he came, ropy strands of cum jetting into the sink, and impossibly far onto the faucet. His moan had been long and drawn out, and he closed his eyes, still jacking his hard-on, milking the semen from it.
She must have gasped, or inhaled, or something; she couldn’t remember what she was doing, only the spectacle before her. Only then did he notice her, and covered himself hastily with a small towel, which had hidden the cock, but not the nearly vertical direction of its salute. “Damn it, Tree!” She’d mumbled a quick apology, almost a whisper, and withdrawn quickly, but the vision had stuck with her, and her panties had been wet with shame and desire.
They’d never spoken of it since—Thank God!—but a couple of afternoons later that same week, filled with visions of her brother’s orgasm, Trina had rushed home instead of staying for study hall, to find the bathroom thankfully vacant. Heart hammering in her chest, smothering in her throat the lusty panting that sounded so loud to her ears, she’d stripped out of her clothes, leaving them on the tile floor, and stood naked in front of the same mirror, except for her pink ankle socks.
Carefully locking the door, Trina had explored every inch of her body, gazing at her image in the mirror, blushing with desire and shame, almost wishing her brother could have seen…no, she had thought. That would be so…wrong. And hot.
Finished with the preliminaries, and very excited, she had rubbed her pussy to a slow burn, then a full orgasm, enjoying the sight of her then-virginal body, breasts still perky, her firm stomach, and the golden hair framing her vaginal lips. The sight of herself naked drove her to deep feelings of want and need, and she satisfied it as best she could without a cock in between her legs, taking advantage of the stamina of her youth.
It had been late afternoon, just before dinner, and she’d had to mask her orgasm with a loud cough, then another, hoping no-one knew what she’d been doing, then carefully washing her hands three times to take the scent off her hands. The first joints of the two fingers she had daringly put inside her, before humping them to orgasm, still smelled of her pussy an hour later, and she wanted more. Her encore performance had been that night in her bedroom, after excusing herself early and heading upstairs, feigning a need for extra sleep. Three orgasms later, she’d fallen asleep sitting up, legs crossed Indian style, naked, her fingers covering and stroking her golden bush.
Two nights later, on a starry Saturday night, she’d let Eric take her virginity. Hell, I practically ordered him to take it, she türkçe bahis thought, smiling in the dark. He had been her first, and so far her only, lover. Eric had been thorough enough, and satisfying enough, that she had never needed another’s touch, or her own, to handle her needs.
And now he was filling his own needs, at his own hands, and she could feel the building tempo of his hands, massaging his hard-on. It made her wetter, and her left hand crept (she would swear of its own volition) down her hip and between her legs, her fingertips coming to rest on the golden blonde thatch and the waiting gates behind it. The warmth of her pussy felt comfortable, soothing, and she started absently rubbing, moving just the pads of her fingertips, telling herself she was just doing it to get comfortable, not because she was horny.
Eric’s breathing was deeper, and she fought down another impulse to start in on her pussy in earnest. Let him have his own alone time, she told herself playfully. Her earlier discomfort, and, yes, embarrassment, had faded almost completely, and she let her imagination run wild. He seems so…eager not to wake me. She heard the unmistakable sound of his exhalation, mouth open, but nearly silent, and Trina knew that if she hadn’t been there at all, he would have moaned in pleasure.
Through the mattress, along the whole length of her body, Trina felt him start to speed up again, and another open-mouthed breath told her all she needed to know. At the same time, she noticed with some chagrin that her nightgown had worked its way up to her hips, and the first joint of her middle finger had worked its own way into the comforting warmth between her legs.
Her index finger joined the play, and she felt her fingers rubbing slickly within her. Spreading her fingers slightly, she pulled them up her slit, coating her clit with her juices, almost gasping herself at the sensation, but this was Eric’s alone time, and she was going to enjoy it without letting him realize she was awake.
She still couldn’t see him, and didn’t dare turn over for fear of interrupting him, and she discovered she really didn’t want him to stop, not for her or anything, until he came. It was hard for her not to start panting with desire as she imagined his act of self-lust. Probably just as hard for him not to make any noise. Is he being sweet, or private?, she wondered.
Eric had teased her that she talked in her sleep. Remembering that, and to lull him into the continued belief that she slumbered, she mumbled a couple of syllables, then realized with a start that she’d said, “in me.” She had wanted two random words so he would believe the lie of her sleep, hadn’t meant to say those two words. I don’t want him to stop, dammit!
Trina realized that just listening to him jacking off had her hotter than she’d been in a long, long time, and she didn’t want it to end just yet, if ever. My love, keep working on it, stroke that cock, make it cum without me. She had never watched Eric, or anyone since her brother, jacking off, her own inclination toward embarrassment and shame getting in the way of any pleasure she might have taken in seeing a man take care of himself in that way.
He didn’t slow down, much less stop. She felt him jacking harder, almost certainly at the two ill-considered words she’d intended to put his mind at ease. Instead, it seemed she had spurred him to further and harder exertions. Behind the small of her back, his rhythm intensified, as his hips raised off the bed, humping the air and his hand. His whispered, “Oh God, Trina!” was barely audible, but it set off a quiver deep in her gut, almost like a vibrating wire extending forward from her spine, to her clit, which she still rubbed absently, clenching her teeth against her own moans.
She could hear him so clearly now, she knew she would have awakened to him if she had really been sleeping. Even so, she tried to keep the fiction going. The soft, quiet rubbing was gone, and she could imagine him with his knees and ass off the bed, heard the soft fap fap fap as he came close to orgasm. This can’t be his first time, she realized, not his first time doing this in our bed, with me sleeping beside him… I must sleep like a fucking rock if he’s ever done this in here before. That excited her even more, thinking about him quietly pleasuring himself—Ha! “Pleasuring himself!” Jacking off, and shooting his wad onto himself, and the covers. She wanted him to cum, lose control and cum all over himself and her, and knew he would very soon.
With a strangled moan, almost deafening in the quiet of their room, he stopped humping the air, but she could feel him still stroking furiously away. She fancied she could hear the hot cum jetting from his erect cock. His panting turned to shudders, and she felt his back arch as he lowered himself to the bed, still pumping cum from his rod. “A-a-a-aaaaah,” he moaned faintly, and the bed shifted once güvenilir bahis siteleri more as he lowered himself down onto the mattress, as gingerly as he could, she was sure.
Trina’s middle finger had worked its way into the moist warmth between her legs, and again she restrained herself from furiously finger-fucking herself. Be patient. Let him sleep. He’d had his alone time, and now she wanted her own. He would sleep for an hour or two. Maybe he’ll wake up and jack off again. Maybe I’ll just turn over and watch. Next time, she promised fervently.
After a few minutes, Eric’s breathing at last became the measured, slow rise and fall of sleep. Trina moved the joint of her middle finger out of her cunt, which had moved beyond moistness to dripping wetness. Trailing the digit lazily up to her stomach, she froze as it brushed along her swollen clit and along her lips. She felt an impulse, nearly irresistible, to throw off the covers and drive all four of her fingers, quick and hard, into her tender pussy, relieving the pressure inside her belly, moaning with her own orgasm and waking him, but she resisted.
Still as water, she moved only that finger, just the tip, careful not to move her wrist, let alone her elbow, and rubbed lightly, tracing an oval over the warm nub of flesh, and sending delightful waves of sensation through her groin, spreading like lava across her thighs and up her torso to her breasts, which she now desperately wanted to cup and stroke.
She lay there for several minutes more, teasing her pussy even as she waited for Eric to reach deeper slumber. Trina’s horniness rose to full-blown lust, and she wanted more than anything to creep away to another room, by herself. Her husband had seemed to really enjoy getting himself off, and she believed she understood the attraction of jacking off next to her. The secret (he thought!) act of masturbating, knowing he could have her most nights, but reveling in his own touch, drove her wild.
Trina wanted to wriggle in pleasure, but didn’t dare wake him just now. I want myself! Damn, but I want to do me! She stifled a giggle, and levered her right leg, slowly, so slowly, onto the floor, and drew it across the carpet, aware of the soft hiss of her bare foot upon it. When it was far enough that she could sit up on it, she slid her left leg out from under the covers to join its mate on the floor. Casting the covers slowly away, to the center of the bed, she brought herself up to a sitting position in what seemed minutes, but she knew was only seconds.
Throughout, she kept her movements even and gradual, listening for any change in Eric’s slumber. He didn’t so much as twitch, and she stole a glance at him. He was naked, and still on top of the covers, that much she could see even in the dimness of the room. His hand nestled protectively around his sleeping cock, she imagined she could see the pool of cum on his stomach. She knew it would be awhile before he awoke, but she was very tempted to lean over and suck his cock back to life, lap up the cooling cum, and wake him to fuck, but now she was adamant about her own alone time.
Standing in one smooth motion, Trina felt the nightgown slide down, the gossamer fabric sticky with static, refusing to slide past her bare ass. Motionless, she listened to his breathing, which continued its steady, deep rhythm. She glanced at the clock. Quarter past four, she noted with some surprise, only now understanding how long she had been awake and wanting since Eric had started.
Keeping him in the corner of her eye, she crept to the door, which thankfully was ajar, and she was careful to lift her feet above the shag carpet, but not to tiptoe. Slow, steady steps, and she was at the door, reaching for the wood above the latch, knowing the sound of the knob turning or rattling might wake Eric.
It took her nearly a minute to open the door enough to slip through, listening for any squeak of the hinges or wooden groan. She was thankful he’d oiled the hinges a couple of weekends ago, and pictured Eric oiling the hinges. Suddenly, he was naked, and oiling his hard, quivering cock instead. I’m so fucking horny. She needed some release, and quickly, so she pulled the door almost shut, not wanting the ‘click’ of the latch to disturb Eric in the slightest, and hurried down the hall.
The nightlight in the hall cast a green glow on the polished dark wood. Trina could almost imagine herself alone in a cabin in the woods, no-one for miles around to hear her moans. There will be moans!, she exulted as she made her way into the living room.
Peeling out of her nightgown and standing naked in the living room, she noticed a wet spot at the back of it, and the scent of semen. She stopped in the middle of the floor, and tasted the thick fluid with the tip of her tongue, before bathing the spot with her whole mouth, cleaning Eric’s mess off her nighty, thoroughly. It’s delicious!, she thought dreamily, her tongue reveling in the taste and the slickness of his load in among the cottony softness of her nightgown. It was delicious, and she wanted to drop to the floor right there and jill herself until morning, the cum-spot in her mouth.
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