Goth Girlfriend Wakes You Up With Morning Sex

Title: “Deep in Darkness, Pleasure Moans”

Early morning mild tiptoes into the room, casting fractal patterns on the ceiling. A snoozing determine lies tangled in rumpled sheets, oblivious to the world’s mild awakening. That is, till a weight shifts on the mattress. Startling azure eyes flutter open to greet the daybreak – and the Gothic temptress perched above.

She’s a imaginative and prescient in shadow and lace, a witchling plucked from teen goals and anime fantasies. Kawaii bangs body heart-shaped face, as jet black as her raven tresses. Plump, glossed lips curve in a secret smile, a pink snake tattoo writhing down her neck as she leans in. Emo-chic is her uniform: thigh-high socks, ruffled skirt barely concealing her curvy property, her lacy bralette doing little to restrain the swelling of her breasts.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” she purrs, Innocent and seductress unexpectedly. “Sleep well?”

The scene is a POV delight, the digicam our eyes gazing up at this enchanting creature. She hovers over us, sourced and charged, electrified by her proximity. Toothsome thighs bracket our head, the breathless anticipation of what is to return is sort of insufferable.

She appears to savor our shock, the blissful shuck of our defenses on this early morning ambush. “I snuck in while you were sawing logs,” she says with a giggle, “time to wakey wakey, eggs and bakey- oh you.”

Deft fingers discover the waistband of our pajama pants, tugging impatiently. The swell of arousal is scarcely hid beneath cotton, a straining pulse towards cool air. She hums with approval, digits dipping teasingly in our pure warmth. “Mmm, not even up and you’re getting hard for me already? What a good boy.”

The sheets battle to withstand as she peels them again, a shroud lifted from Carpathian innocence. Her gaze is a hawk’s, eyes avid as they observe the rise and fall of our breath, the twitch of our cock as she strokes it gently, piratically. Lacking any preamble, she straddles our waist, her palms braced on our chest. The slight jiggle of her breasts in movement is a tantalizing sight, a lessening of our will to protest additional.

“Oh stop,” she dismisses our half-hearted objection, “I know what you like. Your girlfriend knows best.”

And she does. Padding down in the direction of our throbbing size, she suits her small hand across the girth of us, squeezing briefly, reverently. Rosy tongue pokes out to circle the tip, its swollen crown glistening with eagerness. Slowly, slowly, she glides herself down, the seam of her lips splitting in a lewd, slick grin.

Our head lolls again on the pillow, eyes fluttering shut on the onslaught of sensation. She takes us into her mouth, repeatedly, cheeks hollowing with suction. Our fingers discover the stiff strands of her hair, it is shiny wetness unused to something lower than gratuitous fingering. She hums appreciatively round our shaft, the reverberations threatening to finish the present early. Unrestrained, unfettered, our hips increase to fulfill her bobbing head, portray her face with our lubricated essence.

“You taste so good,” she manages, dream misted eyes peering up via fluttering lashes, “need this in my pussy.”

Leaving us moist and wanting, the pause is brutally beautiful. Cool air hits our spit-slicked size as she strikes up and over, hovering above our entrance. The bloated tip nudges her slick, propagating via her molten core. She sinks down so slowly, every devastating inch a erotic ceremony in decadence. A keening, high-pitched cry transpires from her throat and lips as she takes us entire, kitty-daisy wriggling over her face as she stretches round our imposed fullness.

Her tempo is as sinful because the kittenish coos that tumble from her lips, decimating any preternatural management in a torturous therapeutic massage. Thick thighs squish towards our hips, an opulent counterpoint to the visceral pull of her intercourse on our flagpole. Glistening breasts sway entrancingly with each snap of her pelvis towards ours, an orbital dance in pleasure-filled distance.

“Yes, yes yes…” she chants, nails in our chest like a wanton commercial, “fill my needy cunt with cum, fuck me ’til I’m choking on it-”

Unthinkingly, our arms discover her fluency in bounce, doubling her livid lust. The room is electrical, a stunning spandex burst of colour – black hair twining round darkish, tattooed shoulders, plump, reddened lips curling in a beasts of need posture, a lithe physique undulating rapturously because it’s cut up in two. The embarrassingly arduous juts of her bralette, her ruffled skirt using dangerously excessive as she rides us again into the mattress.

Without warning, she collapses, a starburst of spacy awe on lips. Limb entangles with limb, bloated member pining for its personal launch as she flutters like a tempo modify. “Oooh fuck…” she gasps, the meat of her squeezing exquisitely, “you made me cum so hard…”

Her small hand sneaks between their our bodies, shifting with deterred finesse to the bundle of nerves on the prime of her engorged slit. There, she strokes herself with cruel precision, squeezing the pinnacle of our shaft till solely her cervix envelops us. “C’mon baby, cocksleeve’s hungry for your load…” Leaning down, she sucks a stiff nipple right into a mouth, laving the delicate bud with tongue and enamel. It’s the ultimate detonation, the straw to interrupt the dick’s again. Globes clench as sizzling ropes of seed paint her womb, bathing her insides with thick, creamy stickiness.

Spent, she rolls off lazily, 4 sq., laying contented like a derailed prepare thence. Atop the rumpled quilt, the shadows of their silhouettes are resolute, like tamed anemones. “Goddamn morning glory,” she sighs, tucking wayward hair behind one ear, “totally worth it!”

She crops a fats kiss on mushy lips, detangling from the sheets and your physique with fluid grace. “See you later, baby,” she calls over her shoulder, one hand fairly actually on the doorknob as she pauses, “and next time, I’ll do a real waking up, if you know what I mean.”

She offers a cheeky wink, their rampant arousal flicking in recognition, after which she’s gone – abruptly closed door, quiet home, an empty mattress, and a sticky cost of satisfaction. The shadows and lace guarantees of your fantasies recede, letting actuality soak again via. But oh how heady, that morning arousal… What candy, succulent sin.