Diane in the Morning

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Hey there, everyone! This is my first submission, and although I expect it to be a little rough around the edges, I did my best to make things nice and smooth for you. It’s got a little bit of everything- some world-building, some casual sex, and a giant ego for the story to wrap around!


It’s 1992. It’s been 1992 for the past 30 years. Clinton’s just been elected president, Nirvana’s on the radio, and we’ve kind of gotten used to it. Not to blow your mind, but a gallon of gas costs a dollar and five cents.

I should probably take a step back and explain- the world I live in is more or less exactly like yours. The only difference is that we all decided- the whole planet, in the early nineties- that we were going to push pause. The calendar doesn’t go forward until we fix ourselves and fix the planet. No big wackadoo projects to go to different planets while our own is broken. It was a little bit of a miracle, but we got everyone onboard.

Now, time has moved forward, but we’re just not willing to admit that it’s 1993 until we’re sure we’ve done all we can. The ozone layer’s fixed, only about one in ten cars actually uses that cheap gas I mentioned, we’ve got something close to world peace, and there’s no nukes anywhere. We broke ’em down. Pushed the hand on the doomsday clock way back.

Maybe most importantly of all, we figured out each other in the process of doing this. Gender’s more interpretive here in 1992 than it probably was in the one you remember. The way we express ourselves through sex and fashion is, well, easy-breezy-beautiful, Covergirl. People are who they want to be, there’s no barrier to looking, sounding, acting like exactly who you really are.

A few people decided they wanted to look like celebrities, or monsters. You know what happened? Most of them got bored and went back to being themselves. Except for the furries, god bless ’em. They’re off having fun doing whatever.

As for me, sure, I had some work done! We should probably talk about me, right? Here, take my card.

So, I’m Diane Greenbriar, and I work here in San Francisco as a personal consultant. Not necessarily a therapist, though I’ve been known to lend a shoulder to cry on from time to time- more of a life coach. I’ve got my shit together, so why not help you with yours?

Also, and maybe most importantly, I’ve got a killer bod. My favorite thing about every morning is waking up, tossing aside my silk sheets, and getting in some stretches in front of my full-length mirror. Let’s face it, I’m lucky! Even without the little tune-ups I’ve had! Fluffy red hair that spills just past my smooth, freckly shoulders, a winning smile, bright, hazel eyes…

Am I full of myself? Yes. Am I going to keep waxing poetic about myself? Oh, honey, you know it.

Supposing you can pull your starry eyes away from my smiling face, you can take a good long look at the most spectacular breasts this side of Daly City. I don’t wanna oversell beşiktaş anal yapan escort myself, but these… more-or-less natural H-cups turn heads, and I like it that way. Heck, they even turn my head, when I set my hands on my lower back, get in a good stretch, and just ogle myself. Freckles abound, surrounding perfect little nips that always need the good company of a ladyfriend’s mouth.

I don’t know about you, but after a little ogling, I feel inspired. To do some more more ogling. So let’s make our way down together. Smoothly we drift, across a hard-fought hourglass waist, over my soft little belly, around my strong, thrice-a-week-on-the-treadmill hips and bouncy bubble butt… to my little troublemaker. Always rolling up my skirts or ripping my pantyhose, without any regard for my feelings at all!

Shall we get acquainted? This cock of mine, she’s a work of art. Dead soft, not a care in the world, she keeps my thighs company with a positively meaty nine inches. Much to the delight of everyone who’s ever taken me to the beach, I’m much more of a shower than a grower- ahah, and I do very much like to show her off. Treat me to a few kisses, a few sweet nothings whispered across my ear, and you’ll get to meet all of her- eleven inches long, nearly eight around- have you held a can of Coke lately? She’s a lot like holding two of those end to end, plus a little extra.

Let’s assume you’re not already on your knees with your mouth wide open, just so we can appreciate me a little more. I’m a whole lot of leg in not a lot of woman- at 5’4″ they’ve simply got no right being this… extravagant, this elegant- dare I say, like the eternal amateur in the world of erotica- this shapely? Eat your heart out, Jane Fonda. I’ll get my leg warmers out of storage just to prove it.

In short, I’m the whole package. Stacked, packing, well-dressed and positively brimming with charm. Not that I’d ever leverage that to my advantage, I just like to have fun!

Now that you can see what I see- first, pick your jaw up off the floor, you’re embarrassing yourself. But second- if you really want to get to know the real me, you’ll have to see me first thing in the morning…


Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz! There’s the alarm, but I don’t need it. I reached over and slapped the snooze button, then switched it over to the radio- let’s skip the Morning Zoo and take it over to slow jazz. After all, I’ve got company. She’s made herself at home down between my thighs, her painted nails raking at one while the other hand pumps slowly up and down my fat shaft, hard enough to call awake, but still entertainingly floppy under its own weight. While precum drooled onto my belly, I took a deep breath and savored the feeling of her lips spread wide, cheeks stuffed with my weighty balls. I couldn’t help but close my eyes and bask, while took her time sucking nice and slow, pulling with the bob of her head, rolling beşiktaş bdsm escort her hot tongue against the underside of my overstuffed sack.

She’s a fun little thing, her hair a joyful little shock of bleach blonde, ears jingling with piercings, tattoos to match her smeared black lipstick running up and down her arms and back. We’ve been living together for a few days now- her band broke up, she told me, and she heard I, quote, “liked to help people out.”

I don’t know that I necessarily needed some punky twenty-something wandering around my house and eating all of my bagels, but she did make it up to me every single night, and with such enthusiasm. I reached down and ran my fingers through her hair, then cradled her pretty, pierced face and gave her my best good-morning smile. I’ve got no shortage of gratitude, and she’s certainly deserving of some for waking me up like this. Laughing, I reached for her, and she laced her fingers between mine as she reached back. There was a charming little pop! of suction as she finally parted from my balls and crawled her way up to me for a lingering, soul-affirming kiss. I heard myself moan as I tasted her, but there was little I could do except give in and indulge, stroking her back, letting her pour all her pent-up punky feelings into me. I could feel myself growing deliciously hard, my beautiful battering ram bumping up against her backside, smoldering flesh against smooth, cool cheeks in need of a good warming-up.

Is there anything more wonderful than knowing you can get a little carried away? The two of us felt that animal side of ourselves flare up, kisses turning to bites, caresses turning to clawing. I heard her laugh excitedly as I took her by the shoulder and pinned her down, looming over her, my fat cock laid atop her belly just for the fun of seeing how deep I was about to be inside her. She shivered, and mouthed something to me- please, those lips carried the word up to me as gently as can be- fuck me…

Who am I to deny her that? Just thinking about it hurts my feelings! I drew my hips back and leaned in, breast-to-breast just one more time- just one more kiss…

Did I mention I love women? God, I love women so fucking much. Even the least romantic of my escapades involves a great deal of, well, adoration! Where was I?

Oh, right.

Fucking her brains out.

Smirking like I’d just been told the juiciest kind of secret, I propped her legs up high, ankles behind my neck, and felt a flutter run up my spine as the plum-sized head of my cock spread her perfect little pussy lips wide, then wider, then juuuuuust a bit wider…

Eyes closed, head tilted, back arched… and with the second-most satisfying exhale of my morning, I plunged slowly in, driving inch after inch after inch into her burning, too-tight honeypot- I have to admit to you, I couldn’t help a little giggle when I felt her toes curl behind my head. But giggling beşiktaş elit escort gave way to passion, as often it does in this beautiful life we all share, and soon I was driving deep into her, ten-inch strokes noisily clapping my balls against her perfect ass, my hair tossing around my face- pardon my ego, but I was glorious. We were glorious- the way she arched underneath me, gripping the sheets, panting aloud- just having her on her back all morning wasn’t enough, and we both knew it.

On your way toward something special, something you saw on late-night TV, or something you picked up out of the Kama Sutra, I highly recommend going through a few other positions. Make sure your limbs are right for it. I reminded myself of just that as I kept one of her legs over my shoulder, pumping into her while she was on her side, watching her pale breasts bounce and sway, each nipple ring a guiding star for my hungry eyes to follow. If the sound wasn’t enough- her sweet little puffing moans giving way to high, needy shrieks of pleasure- I could feel her cumming, her body tightening, thighs tensing as she squeezed my monstrous shaft tight inside her. I took her over that edge again and again in the process of easing her leg down toward the bed, hammering into her from the back, following that oh-so-smooth transition to get her onto her chest.

Remember what I said about the good ol’ Sutra? I think they call this one “concubine.” Sounds a little extravagant to me, but it sure makes her hips easy to lift. Perfect for bearing down and getting to the core of her- and again, why would I do anything less? It’s what she deserves. But I could feel it, a certain tightening deep in my abdomen, a quickening to my own heavy breaths-

I warned her, but she just nodded. My nails dug into her hips as I let the feeling wash over me, the back of my neck tingling, my face hot and flushed- my cock, buried so deep inside her, throbbing in demand, grabbing every other sensation and emotion by the scruff of their collective necks and throwing them into one moment!

I flooded that woman. Spunk enough to found a nation gushed from my tensing cumslit, pumping powerfully into her, the first forceful blast knocking against her womb, only to collapse back onto itself and run back down the length of my shaft. It squirted with force from the tiny seam between us, streaking the backs of her thighs and the front of mine! And that was only the first- another, then two more, then a dozen more followed, guaranteeing utterly that I’d have to do laundry when I got back from the office as what easily accounted for pints of my glittering pearly essence stuffed her to the brim.

Sticky, shiny, and in need of a soak, I shivered as I sat back on my feet and set a hand on her lower back, running my thumb affectionately along the curved lines of the nearest tattoo.

“Don’t hold it against me if I can’t stay and cuddle,” I offered in a quiet, playful voice. She whined in protest and looked back at me- I mustered all the sympathy I could in my famously thick, expressive eyebrows and shook my head. “I’m already late.”

As I rose to get ready, I realized I couldn’t help myself. I looked back and grinned at her, then offered her my hand.

“So, round two in the shower?”

I’ll tell ’em I got stuck in traffic.

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