1. Eating Breakfast In Glass Slippers


    Date: 11/8/2014, Categories: Straight Sex, Author: TheScheherezadeFeint, Rating: 26, Source: LushStories

    from my mother interrupting me like that later.” Glaring at me in awe, mouth agape a long moment, Matty finally says “You'd have still been going at it like that by the time she came looking for you?” “What? Emotional trauma makes me horny. What do you want me to do about it? No need need to make fun of me.” “No, you're right, I didn't mean to do that at all. I withdraw my statement,” he says. “...Anyway, I wasn't doing well, and I told him I needed a pick me up. Coffee wasn't doin' it, so he showed me a little surprise and said 'guess what'. I mean, it's been a long time, but it's a special occasion, so I figured what the hell, right?” “That explains breakfast,” says Ursula, clapping her hands together in amusement, “Oh damn, girl. I wondered why you just weren't having any of your mother's... anything. Now's probably a good time to mention that here is as good a place as any to stay for a while.” “Thanks...” I say, closing my eyes. “Can you remember anything else?” “Maybe...” I strain through the fog, and the earth splitting hangover. “Try to build on those details,” Ursula says, “Don't think about what's next, just allow it to surface, if it's there. Sip your coffee.” “Alright,” I say, relaxing. As I close my eyes to dim the morning, and slowly everything fades away, quiet. Very gradually an image or a detail flashes in the dark. Something in the smell of the coffee is bringing a memory, and in the dimmest reaches of my mind, it does begin to unfold... - - - Sun glaring ...
    in the window of the suite is the first thing I remember, along with my fingers, strumming over my slippery clit. My things are wet. The fabric between my legs are soaked. Erotic tears are streaming down my face, hot enough to burn while I work, and I work furiously. Passionately, I grind against myself. A finger inside now, I raise my hips off the bed. The rest continue their work as it begins its task inside me. As the first finger curls within another embeds itself into me. I scream, as yet another orgasm takes me. All night like this, I haven't been able to stop. My dress is drenched and so am I. Fuck! Liquid fire continues to fall from my eyes, and surges briefly onto my hand as well. Crying out again, I brush my clit, holding the scream as pleasure as long as I can, keeping the tears of sorrow at bay only with more powerful ones. The screams are laughter and sobbing at once, the orgasm a wave rising and falling, working toward a massive crest. I reach it, bellowing with sexual prowess, three fingers buried inside me, my other hand playing with my nipple, working my breasts like he used to fail at. Just as I fall, nearly the moment the blackness of despair wraps its wings around me again the door opens without warning. “Whoa! Sorry to interrupt... That.” “What the hell, Matthew?” I yell, hysterically. “Didn't you hear me knocking? Asking if you were okay?” Pausing, I say, “I guess not,” before drifting mostly back to an unconscious state. “Well, I hate to disturb you, but ...
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