Silence in my house. Nighttime in the environment. Time to masturbate. My sofa… An elegantly upholstered chaise longue w

Silence in my house. Nighttime in the environment. Time to masturbate. My sofa… An elegantly upholstered chaise longue with a tufting that undermines morale a bit, to be honest. A porn movie on the TV... one of those that they offer you for free on mediocre channels to gain an audience in the chat rooms at the wee hours of the morning. Legs open and bent, feet resting barefoot on the living room table. A simple tank top and white lace panties for the entire outfit, since it's hot, or I am. On the TV screen a chick with big tits gives a blowjob to a huge faceless cock. The guy's big balls crash against the blonde's chin, whose roots, no matter how much she tries to avoid it, can be seen in the close-up shots. It's the first image... the story promises. I close my eyes and let the actor's gasps invade my senses and set my pussy on fire. I love hearing a man gasp when he gets sucked, I think it's the only real thing in one of those movies. My pussy is wet, slippery, shiny. I can't see it, but I know it's like that. I've watched it hundreds of times as I stand in front of my bedroom mirror, watching myself cum, observing its changes as an orgasm hits me. I like to know it is red, swollen, latent... And now it is like this. After having read you, after having imagined what you described to me in such detail, after having been so excited by your words that I cannot repress the image of seeing myself fucked by your veiny cock, skewered until I moan with pleasure, asking for mercy. The scenes that you gave me with your letters do not leave my brain, those that I imagine you writing with a hard on and with your hand clinging to your cock under the table. I tell you that it was difficult to finish, because you kept masturbating while you were also thinking about me and having only one free hand to do it hinders the task. You were thinking about my pussy, I imagine it like that, and that upsets me... It's so hot that I don't know if just blowing on it would make me cum. Feeling my warm breath on the swollen clitoral sheath, sweet perversion. If only it would come... God, if my tongue would come... My panties are wet. I correct, completely soaked. The tiny little lining that covers my pubes could perfectly give me back the taste of my pussy now, by putting them in my mouth and licking them. Savor my taste of the fabric... something much closer and more feasible that calms my needs. But no, now I refuse. Today the panties stay there, on the thighs. I lower them just enough to be able to put my hand between my legs, and I see them from the angle that my stiff tits allow me, waiting for attention. And the fingers bury themselves between my lips, they slide with total impunity between my folds until they reach the entrance of my vagina. Two fingers on her, on her hot, wet opening. The palm on the clitoris, feeling it throb…