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Brad's tongue on my nipple was soft, pulling it up to an aching peak inside his beautiful mouth, his hand travelling down my body, tempting me with its slow, circling progress. I arched my hips toward him, trying to hurry his fingers towards my hungry, wet cunt, but still his fingers stayed teasingly out of reach. I moaned in frustration, surprised when I heard an echoing moan coming from the next room. Brad seemed oblivious to the sound, his hand and mouth continuing to travel across my body, his sparkling blue eyes smiling as my frustration mounted.
Gradually, the distant echo became clearerit sounded like someone was in the next room, singing badly out of key. As the singing got louder, Brad's touch started to lighten, to fade away, as though he was nothing more than a ghost. And then suddenly he was gone, and the singing was now even louder than ever.
I opened my eyes with a groan of understandingit had been nothing more than a dream and, sadly, Brad Pitt wasn't really here in my bed seducing me. The only man around was my boyfriend, Martin, who was in the bathroom belting out a Rolling Stones song: “I can't get noooo satisfaction…”
I sighed as the truth of the words struck me. I could feel how turned on I was, how frustrated. Nothing like almost having sex with Brad Pitt first thing in the morning to get a girl hot and bothered, I thought. I reached down to satisfy the ache, but I knew that I needed more than just an orgasm. I needed to be fucked as hard as possible, as soon as possible.
But I knew that it would be a long shot to get Martin interested in sex right now. After all, it wasn't Friday or Tuesday evening, or Sunday afternoon, which were his preferred times for sex. But then again, what man would ever turn down sex?
I could hear the shower running and knew that I had a few minutes, so I ran down to the guest bathroom, quickly brushed my teeth and hair, and assessed my naked body in the mirror. Not bad, I thought; most guys wouldn't turn me away. Thin but not too thin, curvy but not too curvy, average height, strong and fit, with breasts that were large but not too large, an ass that wasn't too lumpy, and my favorite asset of allmy long, shapely Rockettes legs, my one and only vanity.
I decided that I looked pretty good for first thing in the morning, my long, brown hair falling halfway down my back, a bit frizzy but free of tangles now, my lightly-freckled face and blue eyes looking unusually fresh and awake after a not-quite-sufficient sleep last night and a somewhat restless awakening. I guess making out with Brad Pitt does a body good.
Confident I was working with the best I had, I went back to the master bathroom, where Martin was just stepping out of the shower. He smiled at me, his sparkling-white, expensively-capped teeth flashing. “Good morning, darling!” he chimed, as usual at his perky best first thing in the morning.
I smiled in return, giving him a lingering kiss on the lips. “Good morning, honey. Thanks for the serenade.”