xXx Francie xXx 844-332-2639 x 208
Most mornings, I drag ass. It’s so hard for me to get out of bed, but on Sunday, I manage. I get up before my boyfriend and quietly slip into the kitchen. The morning light and the silence feels so comforting. I’m careful as I pull ingredients from the fridge. Not wanting to wake him before breakfast can be served.
However, no matter how careful I try to be, my clumsy hands slip as I pull the skillet from the cabinet—the loud crash echos as I freeze, trying not to make a follow-up sound. I listen carefully, but there are no sounds from the bedroom. Assuming he’s slept through the chaos, I continue.
Sunday Morning Breakfast
Eggshells crack on the rim of the mixing bowl, and I whisk them at an angle. So focused on my task that I didn’t hear him slip up behind me. My body flinches as he grabs me around the middle. His hands slip under my tee to find my braless tits. Then his teeth sink into the side of my next, and my head tilts to allow it. My ass pushes back against his morning wood, and I know breakfast is about to be delayed.
“You’re noisy.” He accuses me while pulling my panties down. I try to turn to face him, but his hips pin mine to the counter.
“Sorry.” My giggle proves I’m not. His hand swats my ass cheek before he pushes on the center of my back. Bending me over as he takes his cock out.
“You’re about to be.” He isn’t gentle as he thrusts himself inside of me. My pussy contracts around him, but he gives me no time to adjust to his size. Every Sunday morning is the same. I attempt to make him breakfast but wake him up before it’s ready. He ends up serving me over the kitchen counter instead.
Every inch of him driving in and out of me as I squirm back against him.
xXx Francie xXx 844-332-2639 x 208