The Intruder

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He smiled in the darkness. Unexpected entry was his specialty, in more ways than one. The big old house was dark, quiet, locked up tight for the night. The only sign of movement was the blinking red light on the exterior box of the burglar alarm. The house was totally secure. Or so the lady of the house thought, as she lay sleeping in the master bedroom. But he knew better. He knew that the lady had been widowed some months ago, leaving her with two small children who lay sleeping in their own rooms down the hall. He knew that her husband had been wealthy, and that the family wanted for nothing in material terms. And, most importantly, he knew the house – locked doors and windows were no barrier to him. Entry into the house should be, for him, simple.

And so it was. He stood upright, bag in hand, getting his bearings in the darkness. Taking great care to remain silent he prowled about the house, following his tried and tested plan of action, perfected over the years, and in so many dark, silent homes. Even as he admired the beautiful items the woman had on display in the hall cabinets, the display lights doubling as a nightlight for the children, he knew that it was critically important to remain silent. And the big risk was that there would be noise from the bag in which he placed his valuables – he smiled again at the thought that, for a while at least, the things in his bag were, indeed, his and no-one else’s. So he carried the bag and opened it, whenever necessary, carefully – oh so carefully.

At last he was done. He paused in the hall, listening. The door to the master bedroom was slightly ajar, and soft snores came from within. On little more than a whim, he took the two steps necessary to the door, pushed it open, looked within. The light from the hall cabinets cast a dim glow by güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri which he could see the woman as she lay sleeping. The central heating was on, in deference to the small children, and she had pushed the quilt off in her sleep. She wore a simple cotton nightie which had rucked up to the bottom of her ribcage. One long, smooth leg stretched down the bed. The other, her left, was bent, the knee flung out to one side. The dark smudge of her pubic patch was clearly visible in the low light.

He pushed the door closed, leaving the room in near darkness, and put the bag down – great care, again, to make sure there was no noise from its contents. His hands dropped to the belt buckle at his waist. Moments later, he knelt at the side of the bed, and began to inch his way towards her. He reached her furry mound and breathed in, the mixed aroma of bath perfumes and her natural female tang invading his nostrils. And he started blowing – softly, so softly, his breath doing little more than gently stirring her curls like a spring breeze fluttering new-grown leaves. And then he moved lower, into the crook of her half-open thighs, breathing more than blowing towards the core of her heat, and then gently feathering the tip of his tongue along the line of her lower lips. In the depths of sleep her body reacted to the gentle stimulation and her right leg drew up, displaying the petals of her cleft to him.

He exhaled a heated breath down the length of her opening, and then placed the flat of his tongue at the base of her lips. Gently, he tilted his head back, running his tongue up her lips, flattening his tongue into her opening, parting her walls with the very lightest of pressure, leaning into her clitoris oh so slightly, and then ducking his head back down to repeat, güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri and repeat. And all the time, in sleep, her body continued to respond, her thighs folding back and up, as if to present herself to him more fully, small groans beginning to escape her lips, her juices beginning to flow. When he judged her wet enough, he inserted a finger, slowly and gently, rocking his tongue back and forth on the upper part of her lips as his finger slicked in and out of her, starting to flick her emerging clitoris with the tip of his tongue on the upstrokes.

She was now awake, woken by the throes of impending orgasm, so transported by the richness of sensation from her contracting vagina that she gave no thought to the how or why of the mouth and fingers bringing such pleasure to her. And, as she came, she felt the mattress give under his weight as he climbed onto the bed below her. His hand replaced his mouth, his fingers spanning her mound from below, combed into her pubic hair, as his thumb strummed her humming clitoris. And, nudged into the opening of her lips, the second unexpected entry, the wonderful bluntness of his invading weapon.

He paused, strangely hesitant, waiting, stretched horizontally below her like the crosspiece of an inverted letter T, barely inserted in her. She lifted her legs and hooked her feet over him, used her legs as levers to pull him further into her. “Fuck me,” she hissed urgently as his length slid into her wet heat. She groaned as she felt it filling her. And then they were scrabbling, changing position, spoonfitting on their left sides, him behind her, she arching her rear to him as he continued to move in and out of her slowly, so slowly, his pace measured, even as she tried to increase the tempo. “God,” she said, “it’s been güvenilir bahis şirketleri so long! Fuck me faster!”

He bunched her nightie up, pulled it over her head as she lifted her arms for him, and his hands reached round her. Her breasts filled his hands, her nipples sensitive against his palms as he cupped, squeezed, rubbed and caressed. He pulled up closer to her, and she felt lips nuzzling the nape of her neck, whiskers rasping, smelt his man-smell, the odour of fresh perspiration. And still the leisurely thrusting continued.

“Fuck me,” she said again, “Fuck me harder! Deeper!” He rose onto his knees, lifting her right leg to his shoulder and straddling her left leg, as he began to thrust faster, his length buried to its furthest extent, and then beyond even that, her senses filled with the wet, squishing sounds, the grunts and groans, the exquisite friction from within. And she ground her junction back at him, synchronised to his rhythm, the forks of their legs intersecting and joined by his pistoning into her sheath.

And then, she felt his girth starting to pulse within her, and it tipped her over the edge. “Oh fuck!” she cried. “My cunt! Oh fill me! Fuck me! Oh yes!” And his last thrusts, slower, the deep squirting of his seed each time he hilted himself, both of them pulsing, spasming, gasping for breath. And then, exhausted, falling to the mattress, ragged-breathed, sweat-slicked, hearts pounding.

As the pulse of their blood slowed, he moved up behind her again, cupped a breast gently, swept his hand down to her mound and smoothed her sweat-dampened hair, kissed her gently on the neck again, rasping her with those whiskers. And then his weight was gone from the bed.

She heard the sounds of dressing in the darkness. Then soft light as he opened the door. She heard him picking up his bag, no need for silence now. And she turned to look at him for the first time. He paused in the doorway, his bag in hand, and looked down at her, meeting her eyes.

“Thank you for my Christmas present, Santa,” she said. He smiled and returned to the roof where his sleigh was waiting.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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