There’s early morning light streaming in through the windows and nothing but the sound of the leaking faucet in the other room to disturb her.

It starts with her breath. One slow inhale leads her to a deep moan of exhale—a gust of warmth through her lips. Again, but this time, louder. Hands climbing from between the bedsheets, fingers grazing her hips, across the rounded flanks of her lap and onto her soft inner thighs that kiss together with every movement. Another deep breath, this time quicker, the pulse faster, the blood hotter. Breathing in pulls her attention to everywhere the oxygen roams—from her throat to her belly and rocketing farther down into her core.

Her fingers trace a trail across her underwear, gently up and over the rounded hill of her pelvis, hesitating with impatience at the hem. Upward, reluctantly, they glide across goosebumps and downy hairs, and delicately skate over her ribcage. Her breasts fill the palms of her hands, fingers flexing to feel the shape and the weight of them. Though her nipples stand at attention, she doesn’t yet begin to tease them. Instead, she crosses her arms, squeezing her chest together, carefully letting herself spill out of each hand. Another deep breath, another run of her hands over herself and she can’t take it any longer; the tips of her middle fingers begin tracing circles around her nipples, occasionally dragging across, squeezing, and she sucks in a gust of air.

Below, her clit pulsates, begging for attention. Impatiently, she tosses over and splays her legs, the duvet twisting around them and exposing her arching back, her ass pointing at the ceiling. While one hand slides down her flexed back onto the round cheeks—gripping, scratching—the other goes to her mouth. Eyes closed, breathing hard, she sucks on her fingers, imagining how her tongue would feel between her legs, what she could do for herself if only she were more flexible. She sits back, ass pressed into the blankets, and while one hand fondles her nipples again, her spit-soaked fingers reach for her clit. She gasps. She’s wildly wet, but the blankets soak up so much so fast, before long she reaches for her trusty bottle of lube.

With her lips drenched and slippery, her pussy glides against her fingers with ease, dancing softly, quickly, softly, quickly. Throwing her head back, she grinds into herself, rising and falling into the softness of her body. She remembers her vibe, just under the bed, and considers grabbing it but the feeling is too good, too hot, too delicious. She can’t just yet. Grinding turns into pounding, her wetness gathering into a puddle in her hand, the slick sounds of slapping as she brings her hips up and down hard, her other arm stretched out ahead holding her up.

Before long, it starts shaking too, and the toy comes back to mind. Sore and ready to explode, she reaches under the bed and slides the vibrator against her swollen clit. She turns it on and holds the handle between her knees, thrusting into it. Before long, the sensation becomes overwhelming. Her fingers tighten around the handle and she remembers the last time she used it—while her lover penetrated her from behind. Thinking about the fullness inside her then brings her to the edge and she lifts her hips from the vibration, stopping just in time. Clit thumping, she breathes in again and waits for the moment when she might not come immediately upon touching herself. She reaches one hand down and slides two fingers inside, pressing into her G-spot a few times. She wishes her fingers were longer. The memory of her last fuck flashes through her mind again and she gets too close. Her hand drops away, her hips thrusting into nothing while she waits out one last wave of near-orgasmic bliss. She brings her fingers to her mouth and touches just the tip of her tongue to them to taste herself.

She takes a deep breath and reaches for the control button and increases the power. Sitting back down on the buzzing head of the thing, waves of intense sensation roll through her. Her heartbeat quickens and she breathes out a deep, prolonged whine as the vibrations bring her closer and closer to coming. She grabs the handle and presses it hard into herself, gasping as everything in her world is replaced with throbbing, wet, pulsation. All at once, her pussy is the only thing in the universe. She feels the quakes throughout her legs, her belly, her heart as it falls back to a normal beat. Her lungs pump without a thought, and she drops her chest to the bed, curled over her kneeling legs. Cheeks pressed to the mattress, the sun hits her face.

The faucet keeps dripping in the other room. She takes a deep breath in and lets it go.

***

Feeling frisky? Your turn next…

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The post 5-Minute Erotica—”My Morning Wet Dream” first appeared on Tickle Kitty Blog.

The post 5-Minute Erotica—”My Morning Wet Dream” appeared first on Tickle Kitty Blog.