The sin of words

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Added
2/15/18
Language
English
Author
EvaLust
Categories
Dirty-Talk
Masturbation
Squirting

The sin of words

That rather long ramble was merely a shameful excuse to tell you that this happened the other night, and it kicked me so solidly in the gut with lust that I couldn’t help but write about it. I was in bed, and awake early in the morning. Having slipped out to go to the loo, I’d stumbled back in and smooshed around a bit, trying to find the warm patch I’d had to leave behind. As I snuggled down, the boy with me stirred. He’ll do this at any time of night, no matter how ****** he is: movement from me equals him turning, reaching out, grasping for me in the dark. Usually he flings a limb over me, or runs his hand up my stomach before his forearm settles just underneath my tits, pushing them gently up so they rest on him. I love this. I love this more than I can say. I love this so deeply that it makes it harder for me to go to *****, because I’m busy enjoying the feel of his big arms around me, throbbing warmth into whichever bits his ******** brain reaches for first. The occasional tired moan or snore into my ear. Amazing. But the other night he didn’t reach for the same places. As I got back into bed, feeling cosy and soft and on the verge of tipping back into *****, his hand explored downwards. I leant up with my back against his chest, and his right hand ran softly over my stomach, coming to rest in exactly the comforting crotch cup that I use myself. Inside my knickers, with the silk against the back of his hand and his palm up against my skin, he gave a very soft sigh and rested there. I stayed awake for thirty minutes, trembling slightly, holding myself as still as I could so that he wouldn’t move. The feeling of his hand cupping me felt more intimate, more arousing, more significant than a pinch of my nipples or even a fuck. It was made hotter by the thought that it might have happened before, but neither of us knew it. Touching me in the dead zone between waking and *****, running his hands over me without knowing where they were going, and warming each other while our minds were dreaming elsewhere. When he woke up his hand was wet.

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