Erotic Story – Snooze

Even after snoozing three times, she still couldn’t muster up the courage to get out of bed. What then? That’s right. Els couldn’t suppress a sigh and a moan under her warm duvet.

Snooze

Just like in movies, the weather outside seemed to reflect her mood. The rain beating against the windows woke her up before the alarm announced that the day was about to start. Els didn’t want to. Even after snoozing three times, she still couldn’t muster up the courage to trade the embrace of her warm duvet for the cold kisses of the floor. However, this delay made her restless. Of course, she knew she couldn’t stay in bed for much longer. At 9 o’clock she had a presentation for the management team, and after that, she had to hurry to deliver the quote to the customer on time. And she couldn’t make it too late, because she had to pick up a package and do some shopping, because her best friend was coming over for dinner tonight. Els hated the stress. The having to. Always having to meet the demands of others.

She would have preferred to bury herself under her covers and forget about the whole world. But how she would love to trade places with Uncle Fester, her Sphynx, who was warming himself at her feet, even if it was just for one day. According to her best friend, she should take up sports, or yoga, because “yes, Els, you’ll become so chill from that!” But where was she supposed to find the time? Els didn’t even have time to arrange a date for herself.

Els could still snooze one more time, for nine more minutes to enjoy the warmth of her bed and delay what promised to be another hectic day. Nine minutes to relax and bask in the comfort of her blanket. She slid her hands over her T-shirt and felt her nipples trying to push through the fabric. It felt nice to rub softly over them. Almost absent-mindedly, her hands dropped to her warm lap. It was becoming a routine in those last moments of slumber. Carefully, she pushed Uncle Fester off the bed with her foot – “sorry, man” – and reached for her best friend. She had named him BOB, after the Macy Grey song about a Battery Operated Boyfriend. The device had cost a fortune, but it was still cheaper than a quarter-year subscription to a personal trainer. It was a Mercedes among vibrators, she had read in a review, and that was an understatement.

She briefly glanced at her alarm clock. In six minutes, it would demand she get up again. The swiftness with which she pushed aside her panties was not driven by haste, but by the eager desire to relieve herself of the restless tension that stressed her so much. BOB was soft and gentle with Els. But he also knew what she needed. She knew him inside and out and knew exactly which buttons to press, so that he then hit her button with the precision of a sniper.

Els was still quivering when the alarm clock told her it was time to take a shower. BOB was better than yoga. Better than any self-help book against burnout. Smiling, Els kissed the top of the black massage wand.