Good Night, little girl.

she heads up the stairs for bed. Another full day behind her. Another full one tomorrow. Closing the door to her wee little room, she slowly unbuttons her blue flannel shirt. It’s a man’s shirt, her father in laws, and one she’s worn a lot since his passing this summer. He was a good man. She remembers his delight in her kids with a smile. She lays the shirt on the chair, gives it a little swish with her finger.
 
She slides off her wool socks. Not sexy, but practical in her very old, drafty house. But now, she wants to feel sexy, so they go. One atop the other, on top of her slippers where she can find them in the dark before the dawn as she dresses in the new day.
 
Her brown practical skirt goes next. The cool air from the still open window blows in,  the night’s wind tossing the curtain and making her shiver. The smell of winter is in the air and she knows that soon she must close  it all the way, against the coming coldness. No heat in here, but that’s seldom a problem as she generates quite a bit with her sex play.

Laying the skirt atop the flannel shirt, she slides her hand to her shaved pussy, and fingers the lips that are already moistened and dewy with lust.

Mmmm, that feels good. She tilts her head back, squints her eyes against the Yule lights strung across her ceiling at the apex where the two sloping walls meet. The blue and white lights dazzle her, as her fingers find her tiny bud and rub it into a hardened, needy nubbin.
 
She stops herself. Another  short blast of chill air raises goosebumps on her legs and ass, and she hurriedly removes her last garment, a summer tank top that she wears when she wants to be braless. Letting the thin straps slip from each shoulder, she gazes down into her cleavage, knowing that this is a view her Sir enjoys in her daily photo’s to him. She smiles, cups her tits through the fabric of the brown shirt, weighing them in each palm. Knows He will enjoy the heft of them, soon. She slips the shirt down, over her waist, down her hips and steps out of it as it hits the floor.

Nude. At last!

She stretches, raises to tiptoes, arms wide open, body taut for just one slow moment, welcoming the night. She revels in the feeling of her skin and the night air dancing across it. Her nipples rise and harden, as though her Sir were touching them.  She knows His touch will not be cold…there was already too much heat between them for that! 

She bends, and puts the shirt on top of the other things. All ready for tomorrow, but for now, there is bed, and playtime.
 
She pulls down the covers, and leans forward to put her glasses in their cup. Her breasts swing free from her chest…how her Sir would love to see this, she thinks with a smile. And someday He will, she knew. She thinks of the last text she had gotten from Him the night before. Decides to act it out. Pulls the covers back over the bed, and lays down crosswise. Her head hangs down…upside down. She opens her mouth, wide. Wonders how it will be to have His cock approaching her. Will she be blindfolded, and not see it approaching? Will He grab her hair to hold her, control her, as He fucks her face? 

So many questions. And only real time will answer them, she knows. She wonders at the scents, the sounds, the textures. Her cunt throbs in time with her questions. She feels hot, very, very hot. Just thinking of Him makes her wet, needy.  Sliding under the sheets, she shivers. Cold, exhilaration, lust all war within her.

Play time has begun. Reaching under her pillowcase, she finds her cell phone. Reaches down to the bag behind her nightstand, and pulls out her toy. Slowly she inserts the toy into her dripping cunt. Imagines  Him. there.  His cock. Or a toy … whatever His pleasure is, for  He will do as He will do, she knows. And knowing this, she nearly cums. Slides the toy deeply inside her. Imagines His control over her. No eyes to see what is happening next. No hands to protest, to stop, to attempt any control-grabbing…she drives the toy deeper, as she turns on the phone. The new message  beacon is flashing. As she pushes it, she almost climaxes…but it stops as she reads His message. Laughs. Smiles. Groans. He has done it again. Delayed her orgasm. Controlled her from afar. He never says “no cumming” …no, he delights in her passion….but He makes her smile., chuckle, laugh out loud. And  gently removes her from her moment of release.  Sweet, sweet torment.
 
Does He know? Likely. She tells Him what He has done to her, and she senses He’s happy about it. Reads between His text lines. She pauses, toy lodged deep inside of her, making her ooze and throb with need. She texts another response. Places the phone on her chest. Resumes her playing. Stroking her need, pulsing the toy in and out of her wetness….Imagining. Him…..oh, so close so close so clo…the phone buzzes against her tit.
 
Head thrown back, heels digging in to the mattress, body arched with need, a wail trails from her clenched teeth…and she responds…to Him. Her orgasm is once more held in abayance. She sighs, frustrated and happy…He is feeding the need in her to be controlled. She dances this dance with Him again and again. Texts zinging over the phone lines, orgasmic swells nearly cresting over her…only to be stopped by the buzzing of the phone on her breast….
 
Later, sleepy from texting and orgasms finally given, she smiles. Tucks the phone inside her pillowcase. She can hardly wait for tomorrow!