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Jennifer Steele bolted upright in bed. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. When she could, air came in quick, hard gasps. The dream always started the same. The past few nights it ended as she bested her attacker in a variety of ways. Knocking him down, kicking him in the nuts was empowering. She only wished the real-life incident had ended that way.
She glanced at the clock. Five-thirty a.m. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, ice-cold blood raced through her veins. She’d never get back to sleep, so she might as well make the most of the adrenaline. She slipped out of bed, donned running clothes and pulled her shoulder-length black hair into a ponytail. She laced her shoes, grabbed her keys and jogged out the door.
Forty-five minutes later she returned, slick with perspiration but energised from the long run. She’d pushed her body to the limit, enjoying the response of her limber, lithe muscles. When she could fit it into her schedule, she worked out on the weight machines at the gym. Routinely increasing the weights gave her visible proof that she was gaining strength. At least she was stronger than she used to be.
Jen climbed into the shower, still pulsing with pent-up energy. She washed her hair then reached for the bar of soap. Dragging it over her body caused her nipples to pucker, and she paused there a moment. It’d been at least two weeks since she’d felt like touching herself, and suddenly she couldn’t think of anything else.
She lathered up her breasts then returned the soap to its holder. Sudsy hands kneaded the firm mounds, twisting and tugging her nipples into tight nubs. She plucked both crimson peaks until she couldn’t bear it any longer. One hand dropped between her legs, spreading her slick folds. She zeroed in on her aching clit. It’s been too damn long.
The sensitive organ throbbed with her touch. Jen rubbed with a circular motion, increasing the pressure on her engorged clit. Pulsing jets sent hot water spraying on her rhythmically, adding to the sultry sensation. Her pace quickened along with her breathing, as she rubbed herself close to orgasm. Feels so good.
Driving two fingers into her drenched pussy, she thrust them in and out as the first waves of climax overtook her. She leaned against the tile wall, finger-fucking herself as she shuddered to completion. She gasped, catching her breath, and hurried to finish her shower before the hot water was gone.
Jen dried herself with a large, soft towel, rubbing it gently over her sensitised pussy. The orgasm had been good, but not earth-shattering. If she had more time, she’d crawl back into bed with her cock-shaped dildo and fuck herself decently. On a good day, maybe she could give herself three or four wow-inspiring climaxes. On a really good day, she wasn’t making herself come.
There was barely enough time to dry and style her hair as it was. More sexual escapades would have to wait until later. Cupping and squeezing her pubic mound one last time, she left it regretfully and focused on drying her long hair. It took extra time to straighten the waves with a hot, flat iron, but she liked the look. Sometimes she let the natural curl do its thing, but for work she preferred a sleek, smooth style. After carefully applying make-up, she double-checked her appearance before going to the closet.
Her look was important to her, but she tried not to be fussy about it. She usually wore one of several dark business suits with a light-coloured blouse. She preferred thigh-high silk stockings to pantyhose, and high heels to sensible shoes. Both were impractical and she knew it, but she liked the way they made her legs look. Besides, she was the boss. If she occasionally ran around in stocking feet during the afternoon hours, no one dared mention it.