Saturday, sunrise
your eyes widen when you realize you're still in bed
you should've been gone long before morning
the alarm clock was sabotaged, you're sure of it
vault out of bed, you could still make it
race to the door, but it's too late
"Anon?" her voice rings out from behind you
you freeze, it's too late now
"Good morning to you too, Anon. You almost left without your coffee."
you don't dare turn around as she approaches
you feel a warm mug nudge your hand
slowly lift it to your lips, not one sip but you're already jittery
without warning she embraces your torso
you feel her breath on your neck, smells like a distillery
nothing good ever comes from Saturday mornings
"Is it good?" she asks, her face buried in your back
not one drop has left the mug
nothing but silence as the hem of your shirt lifts from your abdomen
you sense her hands snake their way underneath, resting on your obliques
flinch when you don't feel her dainty, smooth palms on your skin
it's soft, slippery, sultry...satin
Kronii's got her gloves on
...Kronii never leaves her gloves on after work
why would she...
...does she know?
DOES SHE KNOW???
your mind races as her gloves glide along your abs
satin fingers trace greedily over every peak and valley
you're still as a statue as one hand squirrels its way up
your shirt rolls over your chest, exposing your nipples to a gloved onslaught
swear you can feel the slightest kisses on your nape
impossible to know with the sensations rippling from your chest
her other hand moves over your boxers
comes to rest on your crotch, it's half risen already
her index finger teases it the rest of the way
your manhood strains against the fabric
you're going crazy, precum stains your boxers
if only she would-
as if reading your mind (she can't do that... can she?), she lays her palm flat over your member
her gloved fingers pry your fly open, exposing your hot shaft to the cool air
she pauses for just a moment, watching the steam escape from your groin
she takes in the sounds of your raspy breath, feels your heart pounding out of your chest
hopefully she didn't hear you gulp just now
your attempts to stifle your voice fail as you feel her glove begin to rub your shaft
it starts methodically, the soft fabric creating an addicting, indescribable friction
your head is still trapped in the boxers, the precum drenching the cloth
as soon as you're familiar with one sensation she switches techniques
soon it's a full stroke, satin running roughshod over your shaft
the gloves have taken full control now, they guide you to the inevitable climax
"You didn't answer my question, Anon."
you don't dare break, not now when you're so close
you're going to defile Kronii's professional duties, all for the sake of a shameless fetish
her stroking hits its crescendo, she knows you're mere seconds away
"Hey," she coos, "let me know on the next one, will you?"
you're right about to spill over the edge, barely interpreting her words as your world fades to black...
...
Saturday, sunrise
your eyes widen when you realize you're still in bed
you should've been gone long before morning
Kronii sits at the foot of the bed
"...g-good morning," you stammer
"And a good morning to you," she replied. "Care for some coffee?"
you try to move only to find your arms chained to the bedpost
a pair of short black gloves is resting on your thighs
"Hey Anon... you never answered my question."
...nothing good ever comes from Saturday mornings