I stand at the counter, frying the sausages for breakfast, wearing nothing but your shirt. It barely covers my ass, but since the kids are away, who cares.
I smile, remembering just how happy you were to have the house to ourselves.
I trace my fingers over my lips, feeling their swollen state. My fingers trail to my jaw bone, retracing the path of your feather light kisses, pausing at my sweet spot at the base of my neck.
Tenderly, I feel the swell of my breasts, the tight feeling of my nipples hardening as the scenes from last night play out in my mind. Swiftly, I push the shirt open and place my hand on my stomach, my pinkie finger resting over my pubic bone: my flesh is tender from the slight stubble along your chin. I bite my lower lip as my clit throbs at the memory of the slight scratchy sensation on my pussy lips.
I feel the heat pool in my lower belly and I moan softly. Breakfast can wait.
