I hadn’t slept the night before, and I was still tired and anxious after my nap. We vaped a bit and settled in for an episode of Great British Bake Off you’d been trying to finish all week. But I’d missed you, so I couldn’t keep my hands from running over your muscular thighs, scraping my nails gently over you skin, tracing a pattern. Your large, strong hands roamed, raising goosebumps wherever they teased. I could feel your dick twitching and growing, but I didn’t want to touch it too soon – I’d already played with it earlier and selfishly wanted to leave you waiting for a while, I wanted to make every square inch of you feel good and awake. You distracted me with kisses, deep and delicious. I smoothed my hands over your broad chest, and your fingers traced the mounds and cleave of my breasts, gently grazing the sensitive underside, and circling my nipples. You took them into your mouth without a word; we’d recently had a conversation where I’d entreated you to suck my titties at your leisure: no need to ask, I’ll always want it. I tried to contain my moans as you licked, flicked and suckled my nipples and breasts, whimpering as softly as I could. I could feel myself soaking my underwear. You asked to eat my ass, so I quickly ran to the washroom to freshen up. I reported back that I was so clean anal was on the table, joking again about our need to learn ASL so your parents don’t overhear my whore mouth.