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It’s 7 a.m. I open my eyes for the first time and roll onto my back. My husband is still lying on his side facing toward the window. It’s Saturday morning so neither of us are in a hurry to start the day.
Robert is 30 years old. At 5′ 10″ tall, he is toned though not what I would call muscular. He’s not Arnold Schwarzenegger by any stretch. Like me, he has chocolate-brown hair, brown eyes and thin lips.
I am also 30 years old. I stand 5′ 9″ and weigh 147 pounds. My figure is very similar to that of actress Catherine Bell “Cassie Nightingale”, Robert’s boyhood crush. Plump D cup boobs are what got my husband’s attention back in the day when I wore a younger girl’s bra.
We actually went to high school together though neither of us showed any interest in dating the other one. Robert struck me as introverted though not unapproachable. I was, and still am, the opposite personality type.
I had been in a few relationships, all of which were short-lived. By about age 25 I felt ready to settle down so I became much more fussy.
A chance encounter brought Robert and me together. It happened at the July 4th parade when we were 26. I was just out of a bad relationship with a narcissistic SOB. Robert was with a girl whom he had introduced as his cousin Jessica.
We enjoy an active sex life, one that takes advantage of every opportunity.
There are occasions, however, when this girl is horny and hubby’s just not in the mood. This morning Ankara travesti is one of those occasions.
If I can’t wake him I can always turn to self-pleasure. I grabbed my violet silicone, C-shaped clitoral and G-spot vibrator and its remote controller from the nightstand top draw, stretched out on the bed and inserted it. I dialed in a medium vibration frequency. Finding that unsuitable, I dialed it all the way up.
Blood rushed to my lady parts. Pelvic muscles tensed up causing me to quiver and pant. My hips bucked.
I let out a soft moan of delight, then another soft moan. The noise woke my husband. He turned to watch me pleasuring myself. He focused on my fingers brushing my areolas and nipples.
The time passed. The tension was becoming unbearable. Very close to a climax, I let out a scream. Suddenly my powerful orgasm left me huffing.
I once told my husband before we were married that I often have multiple orgasms. Not wanting to disappoint him, I restarted the toy. High frequency vibrations stimulated lady parts still wet from the first orgasm. Again my fingers went to my areolas.
My husband was getting excited. His dick had sprung to attention.
A third orgasm gripped me then a forth before finally leaving me exhausted.
After pleasuring myself for several minutes I stepped into a warm shower. I was alone for barely a second before hubby joined me there. He pulled me to him pushing his hard fully Antalya travesti erect man part against me. Our lips touched. My tongue slid against his tongue. I closed my hand loosely around his man part.
I donned medium-wash Capris jeans and a Red-Multi strappy tie-dye tank top. Hubby joined me in the kitchen wearing an Abyss blue polo shirt with black shorts.
“Was it good for you?”
“Was what good?” I teased him.
“The sex,” he replied.
“Ohhh yaaa,” I replied.
“Watching you beats watching porn any day.”
At least you can Touch me.
“Why do you think I do it in front of you?”
I love to walk, often times as far as four miles. An app in my phone counts my steps so I sometimes check with it while still on the move. I always check the step count when I come back inside house.
The thermometer registered 75 degrees. Cumulous clouds covered much of the sky. I pass single-family homes, some with an upstairs floor. I kept a fast pace, arms swinging in wide arcs. I make mental notes of certain landmarks. This is an oft traveled route. Sometimes I take other routes, though much less often.
Robert was not in the house. I figured he had gone to the gym though I had no idea what time he left. He usually stays for an hour. The app sent the celebratory balloons for reaching my goal of 10,000 steps. The clock indicated 10 15.
What does a girl do? Sex had occupied my mind while I was out walking.
I İstanbul travesti took another shower, my second that day. I took just a minute to towel off then plopped nude onto the bed behind the closed bedroom door.
I love having sex even if it means going solo. So what if he opens the door and catches me. I caught him jerking off and he didn’t even let go of his dick.
Damn, it’s out of charge. I’ll plug it in later. Right now I have a mission.
I tossed the toy aside and pressed my thumb onto my clitoris. The hard rub sent blood rushing to the organ. My fingertips touched the rim of my vagina now swollen like a balloon. They sank deep touching my G-spot.
The muscles tensed up causing me to quiver and pant. I let out a soft moan.
As always I was going for multiple orgasms.
The door opened. Robert stepped into the room
“I guess you’re busy. I thought you might want to take a ride.”
Robert’s parents, ages 64 and 63, live just two miles away. I sometimes pass their house, a single-story ranch with a garden way in the back. They’re super nice people and generous with the produce.
“I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
I wanted to go for another orgasm. He realized that.
“I’ll give you some privacy.”
On that note he left the bedroom closing the door behind him.
Just before noon we set out for the Lockewood’s home. On the way there my husband engaged me in a brief private chat.
“Do you think I’m lousy in bed?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“You seem to always want to pleasure yourself.”
“Honey you’re not so bad in bed. It’s just that you’re not always in the mood. I have urges that have to be satisfied.”
“Oh,” said Robert.
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