Melting

It’s hot. Far too hot.We lie in bed, with the windows wide open. The air is still, no breeze to take the edge off, no fan as the noise would keep us awake. I lie naked on the mattress; I always sleep nude, but tonight the duvet slumps rejected on the floor. And sleep seems unlikely.I look at you, laying on your side, facing away, snoring gently. Tonight, even you have discarded your normal comfortable cotton nightie, and are sleeping solely in your lacy French knickers. I struggle to take my eyes off you, and watch sweat beading on your back and running down to soak into our fine cotton sheet. My eyes travel the hills and valleys of your figure; your attractive hourglass shape in profile, hips and shoulders almost twice as broad as your slim waist.I recall earlier, spooning kaçak iddaa in behind you; my desire hard and throbbing, pressed into your soft derriere; my hand reaching around to hold your generous breast. You saying those words I dread to hear: not tonight darling, it’s too hot. I moved away before my twitching cock could annoy you; the temperature is too oppressive, tempers too thin, to risk an argument. Instead, I lay awake, torturing myself with the sight and scent of you.The sun has set, in an hour it will be fully dark; perhaps that will stir a breeze and take the edge off, so I can sleep. The air is thick, and it seems there is a heat haze even across our small bedroom. I throw my arm over my eyes, trying to cut out the dying of the light.I feel you moving, fidgeting in kaçak bahis the heat. I try to ignore you as best I can, keep my mind still. But it reminds me you are there, of what we could be doing. I am achingly hard, but dare not touch myself lest the movement of the bed wake you and you catch me pleasuring myself. I lie, hot, frustrated.I feel your breath against my skin; the tickling irritates me. I try to ignore it, but it persists. I open my eyes, turn to look at you, in my anger ready to say something short. But you aren’t just breathing on me in your sleep. You are blowing on my nipple, staring at my hardness, eyes twinkling.”Can’t sleep?” you say. I shake my head. “I’m not surprised,” and you reach down and wrap your slender fingers around my manhood. “Let me help you illegal bahis with that.”I watch your magnificent breasts swing as you manoeuvre your head down towards my lap and take me into your wet mouth. Your tongue laps at my tip, tasting me, as your lips wrap tightly around me. I exhale, swearing, and I feel your lips twitch into a smile. This is a rare treat for me; it’s neither my birthday, nor Christmas, nor our anniversary. Why tonight? But I dare say nothing; don’t question it, just enjoy.Your mouth, your hands, drive me wild. I watch you bob up and down, taking my length into your mouth, pressing me into your throat. Your full breasts squash against my abs and thigh. My hand reaches for your waist, glides over your hip, caresses the soft flesh of your arse. I study the lace, as it curves across your cheeks and disappears into the glory between your legs. I want to follow it with my fingers, my tongue. But I dare not move lest you stop what you are doing with your mouth.