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His eyes opened slowly as the phone alarmed on the bedside table. Reaching out in the darkness of the cold morning the alarm is acknowledged and a heavy silence settles. The morning battle begins anew, but before the doubt can start to creep he sweeps his arm to throw off the covers. Swinging his legs out of bed he stretches violently and yawns before the silence returns. Throwing on the carefully laid out clothes, black shorts and a grey sweatshirt, he stumbles out into the kitchen to splash cold water in his face.
With tightly laced runners, watch on, buds in, he stands at the front door and takes a deep breath, bracing himself before stepping out into the last gasps of darkness. He walks slowly at first. Making his way down the road under the passing street lamps. Rounding the corner a walk turns into a slow trot. Heavy feet pound the pavement with a steady cadence. Thick muscled thighs ripple in the artificial light with the impact of each step. His hands ball into tight fists. Arms pumping. Chest heaving. He has built his pace and he navigates the quiet streets.
His mind empties as his lungs start to burn, sucking in cold kaçak iddaa air in great greedy breaths. Twisting and turning around he keeps a steady pace having reached his natural rhythm. As the sun begins to break over the horizon he has return to his street and seeing the end in site forces a sprint to the end. Finally reaching his door he doubles over, hands on knees, sucking air with his eyes closed, not totally sure what brought that on.
Moving towards the bathroom he peels off his shirt and steps out of is shorts before drawing a hot stream of water from the rainfall showerhead. The steam fills the room and he steps into the stall, surrounded by the heavy humidity. Bright white tiles cover the stall. He lathers himself slowly, starting at the point of his shoulder before working his way down. He works the suds into the firmness of his muscled torso before closing his eyes letting the water wash it all away. All the stress. All the soreness in his heavy legs. All the soap.
Suddenly a hand is on his shoulder and his eyes open startled. She drapes her hand over his shoulder and studies him closely. His mouth opens but a half kaçak bahis stifled cough is all that escapes as the apparition floats towards him and lays warm wet lips on his. He wasn’t expected them to be so firm and cloaked in steam their mouths dance together. He lets his hands fall to her waist and feels them fill with heat. She takes him in both arms as they embrace each other and pass a moan back and forth to each other.
He can feel the firmness of his manhood grow in the heat. Almost as soon as he thinks it, she reaches down to grip him. A firm grip, gliding up and down steadily, testing the hardness in her hand. It isn’t long before she turns to face the coolness of the tiles and pressing both hands against them she leans forward and presents herself.
Wasting no time he takes a hold of her waist in one hand and the base of his cock in the other. The hardness pulsing as he squeezes and aims at her entrance. Easing his head past her lips he takes big deep breaths while her head hangs forward, accepting his entry. With a grunt he finally reaches the limits of his anatomy and lets himself feel her deeply. Warmth. Wetness. Enveloping illegal bahis his shaft whole. Her ass presses back against him, ensuring there isn’t any part of him not filling her, before she starts to rock back and forth slowly.
He matches the rolling of her hips letting go of himself and reaches a hand up lace with hers, bracing them against the tiles. He fills her again and again. The sound of wet flesh rising as they breath heavily against each other. She looks over her shoulder. He leans forward to kiss her briefly. They part soon after to focus on their fucking. The joining of flesh soon to reach its peak as he breaths heavy ragged breaths behind her. Irregular and hiding muttered curses. He grunts as the deep numbness in his sack announces the arrival of his climax.
She cries out suddenly as she twitches around him. With a last thrust he buries himself inside her and with her walls twitching around him he clenches his eyes tightly before growling and emptying himself inside her. Chest still heaving he feels the heat still around his manhood when he opens his eyes to find only white tile in front of him. He stands upright and suddenly realises the grip he has of himself. Shutting off the water, his seed rolls down the tiles. Looking around he could have sworn that he saw hips in the steam swaying on their way out the door.
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