Naked weekends have been, since always, my wet dream. They have been my best companion for a good decade, from the first flower buds announcing spring and warmer days, which impose a slower rhythm of life and time to enjoy under the scorching sun.
I had a very elaborate script when I dreamed about them as a teenager. It seemed that naked weekends were standard for most couples living together. The working table had to be cleared by Friday to make time to enjoy the weekend. Today, I might add a drink on Friday afternoon, teasing the person I love with a soft touch, sharing glances, prolonging the sweet torment, and secretly suggesting a night workout. My fantasy naked weekends never included toys. Instead, I thought about sex with any man who ruled my brain cells then, which mischievously sent impulses to the lower floor.
I adapted the script to my mood. If my dreams mentioned above included teasing with a drink, the sex was wild. More intense teasing happened already in the elevator and when unlocking the door, and then immediately followed rapid undressing and satisfying the need where it is closest, in my case, the counter or the table. In rare cases, if Friday afternoons are still full of shitty things I had to do, the sex was slow, the minutes to orgasm were long, greater attention was paid to the sensations at the first contact of the tongue with mucus, at the first surge, and so on. But most importantly, we always slept naked.
Saturday was perfect for waking up slowly. When the head was still in the clouds, and the body was tired from a busy week, the peach was warming up. The air in the room was suffocating, but it did not interfere with the slow movement of the hands to the other side of the bed. The feeling under the fingers was soft and warm. There are two possible scenarios here: mutual masturbation or slow sex. For the morning, I would almost prefer the first option to be able to keep the fire between my legs during the day. After a well-deserved rest, some couples would get dressed and go out, but in this dream, we stayed in the apartment, of course, naked. What came up next? Coffee on the balcony and breakfast! At the same time, one did not forget to occasionally pinch someone's butt cheek or slowly travel with the palm all over someone's body. If there was a desire, and in my head, of course, there was, breakfast ended on the counter or on the floor. Then we needed to hit the shower. After all, you couldn't eat your lunch dirty. Unfortunately, I had to get dressed for at least a minute to open the door to a pizza delivery guy.
When the air was clear, the pajamas could be thrown off. Since this was a pampering weekend, we ate in the living room while watching TV. After lunch, we had time for a short nap, followed by a leisurely sitting on the balcony, which always turned into naughty sex. Paying attention to possible moans and people from the street was necessary. The action moved back to the living room at night. After another wild night, after the first-morning coffee, it's time to get dressed and sort out the last things to do before the new week starts. Of course, if the weekend is too short, we can quickly throw away our clothes for the final taste of a naked weekend.
This is exactly what my dreams looked like when I was a teenager. Fifteen years later, it's no different, except I'm adding more toy experiments into my naked weekend. Sometimes I'm all alone and enjoy my idleness; sometimes, I share my bed with someone else. But the best part is that everything can come true. There's no better feeling than that, although the script doesn't run as it was written in my head years ago. The main thing is to be naked and relaxed, to avoid chores as long as possible, and not think about the new working week. Pleasure is a star of this weekend, even if it is in the shelter of your own home and not in some hotel at the seaside.