Morning Ritual …

Delicate fingers barely able to fully encircle the hardened rod of flesh, pretty pink painted nails define the feminine hand. It grips the massive sword and draws its outer covering towards pink painted lips, shimmering with gloss and saliva as the tongue wets them enticingly. Pliable skin is drawn over the swollen crowned head, a pearl droplet forming at its very tip. The red tongue spears the jeweled pearl, capturing it on its tip, withdrawing to the sanctity of its home. Lips pursing, pressing forward in a passionate kiss, honoring the crown. The mighty sword pulses with life as it plunges forth, parting the willing lips as they stretch around its broadness. The saber continues its slow ****, slicing through meager opposition as it sinks deeper into its destined home. The crown, no longer visible, forages forth, gaining entry into uncharted territories. The shaft slowly appears shorter and shorter as it follows its leader obediently.

“Mmmm … aaaahhhh,”. A pleasurable moan seeps through my lips as my eyes drift open. “Ooohh! … Damn!” I grunt in frustration as the erotic dream was interrupted by the usual morning sunlight streaming into my room. It was so real … my own eyes, looking down upon the wonderful cock I was sucking. I could feel it stretching my lips as I drew it into my hungry mouth. I could taste the salty droplet still tethered to the tip of my tongue. A pleasant ache in the back of my throat could be felt. An angry rumble from my stomach erupts from the sustenance denied.

I grumble loudly as I consider rolling over in an attempt to resume the vivid movie playing to completion. But suddenly, I am filled with an unexplainable sense of energy. There’s a rush of adrenaline coursing through me as my feet find the floor. In haste, my feet push me towards my desk where I take a perch and rummage through my drawers, looking for a composition book, some loose leaf papers, or anything to write upon. Alas, there is nothing, drawers that have been emptied of contents when I left for college. In my frantic search, my eyes fall upon my laptop. An easy solution to my current problem!

The dream is still so very fresh in my mind, nearly consuming my every thought, as in how it would end, not to mention, whose cock it was? It’s common knowledge, that in order to know and remember one’s dreams, they should write them down as soon as they wake. So with the laptop open and powered, and the word processor app running, I begin to type.

Dear diary … it was a beautiful cock, too large for my fingers to wrap around. I knew I had to have it. My lips were already wet with anticipation as I pumped a dollop of his sweet juice to its tip. My tongue darted out to capture it and I delighted in its taste and texture. I had to have more. I drew closer, kissing it as it slid past my lips and into my mouth. Again, I knew I had to have more. Deeper, it went into my mouth and into my throat. I had to have it all!

But damn! That’s where it ends.

But yet, I must write about the one that didn’t end! Yesterday I sucked a strangers cock and I had an incredible orgasm while doing it. It happened so accidentally. I had to pee really bad, went into this nasty looking bathroom, and there was a hole in the wall. A cock came through! And I knew I just had to have it. ALL OF IT!

I sucked a cock at a bathroom glory hole. It was large, too large for me, but I was able to pull it off. It felt so nasty, but it made me so hot and horny, I just couldn’t help myself. Even though it’s wrong, I want to do it again, to do it better, deeper. ALL THE WAY!
I can’t explain why, but I have to do it again. And again. And again. I have to be perfect. I have to be the best.

Please don’t judge me.

Till I write again …

I sit back and reread my first entry into the journal. There’s so much more I could write about, but I’m a little uncomfortable writing about some of the other details of the past day. What’s more perplexing, however, is that I know I have to suck a cock a day because of the game Roland has created, but I can’t bring myself to put the thoughts to words on the screen.

I give up as the aroma of Mom’s cooking draws me, once again, to the kitchen. There, on the table, sits three place settings, each with a steaming cup of coffee. Dad is already here, digging through his hearty helping. Mom is walking towards her place with a serving half the size of Dad’s. I continue past them to the refrigerator and grab my vanilla yogurt. As I turn back to the table my hand automatically reaches out and wraps delicately around a long, slightly curved banana. I marvel at how my hand seems to grip the shaft, recalling how I held the penis that peeped through the hole yesterday. My mind is now whirling as I make my way into my seat.

The wonderful, musky spice cologne scent coming from Dad is quite intoxicating, sending a chill along my spine as it reaches my nose. My skin erupts in tiny bumps as an unexpected warmth radiates from deep inside. I can’t ignore the vivid videos replaying in my head. My eyes are solely locked onto his steel pole, as Mom’s lips slide along his length. His length slides effortlessly back and forth, a slow moving piston, plunging deeper on every other stroke. Her tongue slips between the seal occasionally, pressing against the thick, bulging vein.

“AHEM!”

Mom’s abrupt interjection snaps me out of my daydream. My eyes go wide in horror! I’ve been sucking on the banana, much the same way Mom was sucking on Dad’s cock. My face burns with embarrassment as I sheepishly bite down and eat the malleable fruit. Luckily, not a word was spoken, but the stare coming from Mom was quite concerning.

A look towards Dad doesn’t soothe matters any. Within moments, the dream starts anew. I’m lost in my own world, oblivious to my surroundings. My lips pressed against my fist, the onslaught of his pent up passion, passing through my grip, I can sense his release is near. An unending barrage of cannon fire explodes from its casing. A thick, creamy concoction fills my mouth, it’s taste lingering on my tongue as I swirl it through the savory substance. More and more fills my mouth, it’s excess seeping from the corners as I struggle to keep it all in.

“YOUNG LADY!!!”

Again, her shrill voice slices through the serenity of my dreams. Horror strikes yet once more as I come to the realization that my mouth is filled with a more than appropriate amount of creamy yogurt, which I had apparently been inappropriately playing with!

Totally ashamed, I gulp down the remainder and leave the kitchen, taking one last opportunity to hug and kiss the man of my dreams.

Now in the sanctity of my room, I take a moment to regain some composure and begin my morning ritual. Stepping into the bathroom, I start the water flowing to heat it up. I strip out of my clothes and take a few moments to admire my figure. It feels nice to run my fingers over my flesh, following the contours of my figure as they pass over my hips. Hands circle around as my head cranes, getting a glimpse of the tight buns. There’s not much there, but I’m able to grab just enough to fill my hands as I pull upwards. The skin is smooth, tight, and blemish free. My hands float over my breasts, palms tickling the hardening nubs, which I trap between my fingers and thumbs. It feels good to give them a light pinch and gentle twist.

Steam begins to fill the room with warmth as it envelopes me. I step into the rainfall and luxuriate in its relaxing spray. I admire the way the droplets trail down my flesh, my hands exploring just as they had done earlier, spreading the warmth and wetness. I dip my head backwards into the waterfall, drenching my tresses. It feels nice as the wet hair clings to my scalp and shoulders.

Shampoo … Rinse … Conditioner! The routine is as natural as my movement. It feels nice and relaxing. Scented body soap pours into the loofah, a thick lather of suds flows over my hands, as floral aromas fill the shower. The mix of a light abrasion from the scrub, combines with the soothing lotion, leaving silky skin in its wake. I linger, longer than usual, over my breasts, my ass, and my heated pussy. It just feels so good … natural … and right! The need to slip a slick digit between the folds can’t be ignored, inflaming the tiny nubbin at its cleft. On its return voyage, the finger dips into the honeyed canal, eliciting a tiny whimper. My legs begin to tremble and shake. Fear of collapsing overtakes me as I abandon my efforts and rinse clean, the excitement going down the drain.

Towel dry … wrap the hair in a turban … terry robe … facial scrub … rinse … facial cream … a light application of pale pink lipstick to make my lips more noticeable … blow dry and style the hair in loose waves … head to the dresser. Everything is just so routine, so automatic, as I’ve been doing this every day for who knows how long?

Searching through the drawers, I pick out a pair of white bikini briefs with lace trim, along with a matching bra. Slipping the bottoms on, I pull them over my hips and run my fingers under the hem, tucking the excess booty within the material, while ensuring it fits snugly and securely in the front. I drop the robe over my chair and fit myself within the bra, adjusting the cups and the straps for a comfortable feeling.

Looking through the wardrobe, my eyes linger on the cheerleading outfit that hangs on the rack, begging to be worn again. I resist temptation and opt for a pair of loose pink capris and a modest white blouse. I don the clothes without effort and adjust the blouse to show just enough cleavage, while still being “respectable” and … … … feminine?

Putting on a pair of Bobby socks and pink sneakers, I head downstairs and nearly bump into Mom. Her eyes travel up and down, obviously appraising my choice of clothing and undoubtedly about to comment. “Well … At least you look like a young lady!” The hint of her earlier outburst was still evident. “So? What do you have planned for today?”