Saturday, sunrise. Your eyes widen when you realize you're still in bed.
You should've been gone long before morning. Alarm clock sabotage, you're sure of it.
Vault out of bed, you could still make it to the door.
"Anon?" her voice rings out from behind you. Too late.
"Good morning to you too, Anon. You almost left without your coffee."
You don't dare turn around as she approaches. A warm mug nudges 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. You haven't tasted a drop.
Nothing but silence as the hem of your shirt lifts from your abdomen.
You sense her hands slither underneath, resting on your obliques.
But you don't feel her dainty, smooth palms on your skin.
It's soft, slippery, sultry...satin.
Kronii's got her gloves on...but Kronii never leaves her gloves on after work.
Why would she...does she know?
Your mind races as her gloved hands glide over your abs. Her satin fingers trace every peak and valley.
You're unmoving as one hand rolls your shirt up, exposing your nipples to a gloved onslaught.
Swear you can feel slight kisses on your nape, but it's impossible to know with the sensations rippling from your chest.
Her other hand moves over your boxers, resting on your crotch. You're half risen already.
Her index finger teases it to full mast. Your manhood strains against the fabric.
You're going crazy, the boxers are staining with precum. 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 fingers pry apart your fly, 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,>Saturday, sunrise. Your eyes widen when you realize you're still in bed.
You should've been gone long before morning. Alarm clock sabotage, you're sure of it.
Vault out of bed, you could still make it to the door.
"Anon?" her voice rings out from behind you. Too late.
"Good morning to you too, Anon. You almost left without your coffee."
You don't dare turn around as she approaches. A warm mug nudges 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. You haven't tasted a drop.
Nothing but silence as the hem of your shirt lifts from your abdomen.
You sense her hands slither underneath, resting on your obliques.
But you don't feel her dainty, smooth palms on your skin.
It's soft, slippery, sultry...satin.
Kronii's got her gloves on...but Kronii never leaves her gloves on after work.
Why would she...does she know?
Your mind races as her gloved hands glide over your abs. Her satin fingers trace every peak and valley.
You're unmoving as one hand rolls your shirt up, exposing your nipples to a gloved onslaught.
Swear you can feel slight kisses on your nape, but it's impossible to know with the sensations rippling from your chest.
Her other hand moves over your boxers, resting on your crotch. You're half risen already.
Her index finger teases it to full mast. Your manhood strains against the fabric.
You're going crazy, the boxers are staining with precum. 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 fingers pry apart your fly, 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 from your chest.
Hopefully she didn't hear you gulp just now.
Your grit your teeth as you feel her glove begin to rub your shaft.
It starts methodically. The soft fabric creates an addicting, indescribable friction.
Your head is still trapped in the boxers. Precum seeps into the cloth.
As soon as you're familiar with one sensation she switches techniques. Soon it's a full stroke, satin running roughshod over the 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 when you're so close.
Her stroking hits its crescendo, she knows you're seconds from cumming.
"Hey," she coos, "let me know on the next one, will you?" You can barely understand her.
Just as you spill over the edge, your world cuts to black...

Saturday, sunrise. Your eyes widen when you realize you're still in bed.
You turn to see Kronii sitting by your feet.
"...g-good morning," you stammer. "And a good morning to you," she replies.
You try to move only to find your arms restrained.
"You almost forgot your coffee...and an answer to my question, Anon."
All over again...nothing good ever comes from Saturday mornings.feels your heart pounding from your chest.
Hopefully she didn't hear you gulp just now.
Your grit your teeth as you feel her glove begin to rub your shaft.
It starts methodically. The soft fabric creates an addicting, indescribable friction.
Your head is still trapped in the boxers. Precum seeps into the cloth.
As soon as you're familiar with one sensation she switches techniques. Soon it's a full stroke, satin running roughshod over the 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 when you're so close.
Her stroking hits its crescendo, she knows you're seconds from cumming.
"Hey," she coos, "let me know on the next one, will you?" You can barely understand her.
Just as you spill over the edge, your world cuts to black...

Saturday, sunrise. Your eyes widen when you realize you're still in bed.
You turn to see Kronii sitting by your feet.
"...g-good morning," you stammer. "And a good morning to you," she replies.
You try to move only to find your arms restrained.
"You almost forgot your coffee...and an answer to my question, Anon."
All over again...nothing good ever comes from Saturday mornings.