The absolute best, and worst, part of summer is all the free time I have to lounge about. Unfortunately, that is also exactly the atmosphere that fosters boredom and restlessness…there are only so many days a girl can spend tanning in her backyard or going shopping for clothes she will never wear. And so it was with a listless lethargy that I got up this morning, en route to a nice, intensely cold shower. I took one look in the mirror and shook my head; underneath the light tan I work so hard to obtain, my skin looked flushed and overheated. I pushed my messy bed hair out of my face, where the light sheen of perspiration was causing it to stick. At least Mike isn’t around to see this trainwreck. Mike is my boyfriend, whose sweetness always leads him to tell me how pretty I look, regardless Sex hikayeleri of how I feel. Obviously he is blinded by love because this particular look was not what anyone would call “attractive”. Pushing these thoughts aside, I eagerly ran the water and stepped under the freezing spray. Ten minutes later, I wrapped myself in a towel and let my hair drip a puddle onto the bathroom tiles. I couldn’t quite shake the feeling of laziness settled in my every limb. Most mornings I go for a run, but it’s just too damn hot to consider that today….besides, I was already showered. Why on earth would I subject myself to sweating myself back to a melted mess? A little ashamed, but hot enough to ignore the nagging feeling I should do something productive, I headed back Sikiş hikayeleri to bed with the idea of reading a book and seeing if any motivation strikes me to do anything (yeah, right, Aly…). Towel dropped carelessly onto the bedroom carpet, pulling a pair of panties on while my other hand reached for the dial labeled “Maximum A/C”… Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. It’s a text from Mike, who apparently just woke up. Good morning, baby doll…wanna talk for a bit…? My fingers immediately typed out a reply, as a smile finally crept onto my face. Yes, please! I adore talking to Mike on the phone. He doesn’t know it, but sometimes when he’s telling a long story, I half listen and just admire his voice. He picks on my New England accent, but all I know is his voice is wicked sexy, Erotik hikaye whether he agrees that “wicked” is an adverb or not. The phone rings, and I take a deep breath before answering. Mike! Hi! Well, that was sophisticated. Keep squeaking, Aly. Hey there, gorgeous. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Why was I suddenly blushing and well, let’s be honest, wet between my legs? My brain wasn’t registering this conversation anymore. You could offer me a million dollars and I still wouldn’t be able to recall what was said. It must have somehow led to a double entendre though, because what caught my attention was one word. Say that again. Say what again? Oh, you mean you wanna hear me say “pussy”… That asshole, of course I wanted to hear him say that, mine was melting from the sound of his voice. Baby, please repeat the dirty thing you just said. I want to be so deep inside your tight, wet pussy, Aly. Soooooo deep… My hands were suddenly caressing my breasts as I noticed vaguely that my nipples were as hard with arousal as my pussy was wet with it.
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