Exhaustion and Masturbation

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It’s just after seven in the morning, and while most people are enjoying their last few moment in comfy beds, or just waking up to start their day, mine is coming to a close. I pull into my driveway after completing a twenty-four hour over night shift, unsure exactly of how I got there. In my sleep deprived delirium I have no distinct recollection of actually driving, but clearly must have done so okay. My eyes close and I lower my head for a fraction of a second before I jerk my neck, recovering from an irresistible micro-nap. The steering wheel looks like a surprisingly comfortable place to just rest my head, but I have a soft, warm, comfy bed that is calling my name.I open the car door and swing my legs over the side, the incessant chiming thankfully reminding me to fetch my keys from the ignition. After the prolonged drive home my legs struggle, only initially, to hold me up. I stand on my tip toes and raise my arms high above my head; the cool morning air gently wafts across my faintly revealed midriff. I lower my heels back to the ground, and with my hands still above my head, arch my spine backward. I feel several stiff vertebrae pleasurably crack while the air brushes against my now exposed belly button. My lower back feels cold as I bend over and touch my toes.Feeling marginally, but still noticeably, better, I gather my purse, stethoscope, and the ever vital cup of coffee from the center console. Sadly, the coffee it doing little for me. It was never all that great as a pick-me-up. But I still love the taste and it is a ritualized purchase after full day shifts. I would be a lot less exhausted, somewhat ironically, if I had just stayed up the whole night. But I made the, understandably of course, mistake of trying to sleep during the down time. It felt like whenever I’d lie down, I’d get a page or a phone call about some patient needing my attention. The constant, sudden, and forceful awakenings through out the night leave you more fatigued then if you’d just stayed up the entire time.I adjust my pants and shuffle through my poorly kept lawn towards my back wooden stairs – shuffling being the only ambulation I can muster with any vigor. The bottom hem of my ill fitting scrub pants – they never have my size – brushes against the uneven ground.. After a quick, wobbly, almost stuporous walk, I reach the stairs leading up to my apartment. A flight of stairs that on any other day would be a molehill looks positively mountainous. I grab the railing hard for support and pull, trying to augment my legs as much as I can. My calf muscles tighten up and ache. Halfway up the stairs they scream in protest and I now, rather than just holding the railing, am hugging it and leaning against it with all my weight. Slowly, one step after the other, I drag myself upward, my arms now burning as well. My body brushing hard against the railing for support, I pull myself up the last stair and suddenly stop short as I feel a sharp tug at my waist band and a stiff breeze across my upper outer thigh. I quickly identify the culprit – a large splinter that snagged my pants – the knot in the drawstring strained taught. I untangle it easily and cover up my pale flesh, marked with only a superficial scratch at worst, and the faintest hint of the waist band of my panties underneath.Clumsy fine motor skills not withstanding, I open my door and stumble across the threshold and shuffle to my bedroom. There it is. My bed. Calling me. With new found energy at the prospect of being to close to my goal I bound over across the room, kicking off my shoes in the process, and collapsing in a defeated heap on my sheets.Ahhhhhhhhh!I close my eyes and breath deeply. I lay there, for how long I do not remember, just basking in how happy I am that I’m finally done for the day. My head hurts, that ache you get with sustained sleep deprivation, most acutely by the long night, but compounded by the mobil porno chronic sleep deprivation before this. My mental faculties are, well, not anywhere near their peak. I feel, weaker, somehow. Physically, of course, yes, but mentally I just feel unable to fight. I am not my usual peppy, energetic self. My stomach aches and growls at me, having not eaten for hours on end. My mouth and tongue are dry and I lick my lips in anticipation of a cold drink. Cruelly, while the fatigue fighting properties of the caffeine don’t seem to touch me, it’s diuretic effects do, making my thirst worse and giving me the unmistakable feeling that I have to pee. My muscles, my poor muscle. Even lying there, I feel them remain in their tense and cramped state, only slowly relaxing. My skin is hot. Suffocating under my thick scrubs and moist with perspiration. My most pressing need, of course, is sleep. Sweet blissful sleep. My other needs can wait, for now at least, just as long as I get a little shut eye. Just enough so I don’t feel so drained.Still, I should at least do something about the heat, even in my state it’s going to be difficult to sleep comfortably like this. My back gives a slight twinge of unrest, as if angry that I would dare move, and roll out of bed. Unfortunately, I don’t have central air conditioning, but I do have a large fan and windows along all but one the walls which provide a great cross-breeze. I pull back the blinds and open every window I have as much as I can. The awnings overhanging the windows outside block a good amount of the intense sun light and still allows for a pleasant breeze to drift through my room. Switching on the fan by my bed completes the setup.Sitting on the edge of my bed, I tug at my scrub top. Thick, practical, cheap, but stifling hot and uncomfortable. My top is too small and my pants too long and too big. The automated machine that “handed” me my scrubs did not seem to like me. Only caring if they matched in their dark blue color, the heartless machine gave no consideration to how they feel. The top, thankfully, is short sleeved, but even on a thin thing like me feels tight and constricting. As much as I try to tuck it into the waist band of my pants, even small movements cause it to ride up, showing my stomach or back. Far more concerning however, is the V-neckline that plunges way too deeply. I see a lot of people wear T-shorts underneath, I think this is kinda how they were designed to be worn, and this does solve the problem of your shirt showing off your stomach or your cleavage. But it was just way too hot for that today and I, and several others I noticed, forwent the undershirt. For better or for worse, my breasts are on the small side. They are only an “A” cup. I feel kinda sorry for the girls with large breasts – their cleavage can be very obvious in these things. I cross my arms and grab the underside of my top and pull upward. Marred with sweat and moisture, the tight top snags every bit of moist skin it is slowly dragged across. I quick tug with a little more force and the thick fabric slides over my bare breasts (y…yes…I wasn’t wearing a bra. They’re uncomfortable!), pulling them upward till they flop back down gently. Already the breeze and the fan feel so good over my exposed skin. A little jostling later and I manage to pull my top of entirely and throw it unceremoniously on to the floor.I breathe deeply. My breasts rising and falling with each breath, feeling so much better already.I bring my knees to my chest and take off my socks. Then, standing up, I pick at the knot in my waist band. These things were always a pain. Because the back side was so loose, and the top didn’t quite tuck in, bending over could be an embarrassing disaster waiting to happen. There was definitely a moment earlier where I dropped a chart of papers and could feel my thong being exposed. It was a deserted hallway, alman porno thankfully, but I didn’t think I ever worked that fast to make sure no one saw me. With ease..well.. maybe a little effort..er..maybe a little more work.. with, uh, concerted effort.. I..um…grrrrrrrrr…why did I tie this damn thing so tight! After much picking at the knot with my nails I manage to undo them, and with their large size they quickly drop to the floor revealing a tight fitting pair of pink thong panties. Unlike the other shed clothing littering the floor at my bare feet, the panties are, um, less than practical. Thin and soft, they feel so good against my skin, especially now with the rest of my clothes gone and the breeze blowing across me. A thin waist band goes around my waist, with a tiny bow in the front. The plain pink fabric gathers between my legs and covers my pussy delicately before narrowing between my legs and becoming an almost embarrassingly thin strip that wedges itself between my butt cheeks and barely manages to cover my ass before joining the waist band again. I hook my fingers around the sides and gently pull down, snagged all the moist skin on the way. The fan breathes cool air all over my nude fragile body and my pussy lips give the faintest of tingles. I lie back in bed, purring happily. For the longest while I just lay there – my heard still swarming in its delirium and my body still aching all over. All modesty in my room forgotten, I stretch my poor legs. I bring a knee up and reach down to massage my calf, then switch to the other leg. I move my neck around and open and close my legs, showing off my privates. It feels sooooo good. I roll over to my side, the fan giving a gust of wind against my butt. I giggle and twist my back and my hips in opposite directions, cracking several more joints and relieving some tension. I roll back over to my back, spread eagle, and slowly pass out. I wake up suddenly. My head pounding. I was…walking through… a forest was it? There was a man. What did he look like? I struggle in vain to remember but the details are quickly lost to me. A dream had woken me up all to soon. I try and think of where I am. Am I at work? No..wait..I’m at home. I roll over and read the alarm clock on my nightstand. Only minutes have passed, leaving me feeling worse than when I started. I toss and I turn, unable to get comfortable, unable to relax. Eventually exhaustion wraps me in her embrace again and I pass out. Once again I suddenly wake up. Another dream maybe? I can’t remember anything. I roll over to my side and draw my knees into my chest, curling up in the fetal position. My thighs rub together. I feel…..I…..Oh God…..I feel moisture rubbing between my inner thighs. I..I wet myself. I hug my knees closer and drape one hand over my hips. I glance my fingers against my skin. I..I…I’m wet…I had a wet dream. Looking down, my bare breasts have painful obvious swollen nipples. Even if my mind can’t remember what I was dreaming about, my body sure seems too. I try to fall back asleep, I try to fight it, but I just can’t. The fan continues to blow cold air over my body and my nipples become hard and erect. My breasts may be small, but they are perky in their own little way. My nipples are very sensitive. Normally soft and supple, they’ve swollen so much that I can’t deny how much I need to play with them. I know I should try and go back to sleep, and that any extra stimulation will just make things worse. But…but I just can’t help it. I can’t fight it; I’m just too mentally exhausted. I cup my hands under my dainty breasts, and massage them deeply. I let out a deep breath and I trace my fingernails around my pink quarter sized areola. A gentle squeeze of my fleshy light pink nipples is more then enough to make me moan softly. I love to have my breasts played with. And I absolutely need alexis texas porno to fondle them whenever I masturbate or as part of foreplay when I make love. I roll over on to my back, and pull on my nipples, drawing my breasts away my chest and then letting go and having it slap against me. I start to day dream and wonder how great it would feel to have them sucked. Just a little! Gentle. No biting. Well, maybe a little nibble. The mere thought makes my breasts ache. I sit up at the edge of the bed, my muscles aching in a much different far less pleasurable way. My pussy aches and quivers. It is jealous of my nipples. My pussy can’t hide its desire as it continues to moisten itself. I can’t see it, but I can feel small amounts of my fluid gently leak from between my pussy lips between my thighs. They tremble in protest. They feel left out. My pussy feels hot. Jostling my hips only makes it worse. I try to just grin and bare it. I try to focus on my breasts. So warm. My mind wanders again. Maybe it would feel nice to just stretch my pussy…a little? No. No no no. I must not think about it. My inner thighs are damp and slide against each other easily as I squirm. My pussy quivers again, trying to draw attention to itself, almost angrily. I lower my right hand and reach between my legs. My hand gently brushes against my labia and…oh god….oh no…I blush.I am so wet! How did this happen? My pussy lips shake with approval even with just barely touching them. I gently spread them, and several drops of my fluid drip down my fingers. How can I be so wet like this?! I get to my feet, accompanied by a brief feeling of light-headedness and a feeling that my legs may give out from under me. I shuffle my feet over to the bathroom, my thighs rubbing against each other as I do. I grab onto furniture for support and inch myself ever closer. It’s not until I get halfway there that I suddenly realize, with a shock, that I just walked by several windows that I opened earlier. I quickly cover my body, cupping one hand over my wet pussy, and holding my other across my chest. My face burns red and I hustle to the bathroom. My neighbors are likely at work anyway…they wouldn’t see anything..right? I close the bathroom door behind me; on it rests a large full length mirror. My reflection gazes back at me – a tired, defeated young woman, with her hands still covering her shame. Exhausted, but clearly with the early markings of lust. A straight haired brunette, looks at me. Though I have experimented with curls in the past, it is normally straight, and falls down past my shoulders. Right now it is a bit disheveled. It is usually tied back for work purposes, since I can’t have my hair all over the place messing up and contaminating things. I have hazel eyes, and I tend to wear a light amount of eye liner. It is typically the only makeup I’ll wear, along with lipstick, if I’m wearing any. My ears are pierced, but I’m not wearing earrings. Usually something small and not too flashy if I am. Like most people, my ears are sensitive, and whispering things into my ear while kissing or nibbling them is a good way to get my attention both emotionally and physically. Depending how you look at it, given my preference for emotional connections, you could say my ears are indirectly the most sensitive part of my body. My nose is small, cute, and thin. My lips and mouth are clean and healthy. Full. Pink. If I wear any lipstick it is a light shade of red. I love to kiss, and could be very content doing nothing but that for the whole night. My cheeks are soft and clear, and I blush very easily, even now with a faint red hue at the realization II may have shown off my nude body to anyone who may have been glancing at my apartment.My chest/upper body is thin. I don’t have a lot of upper body strength, its mostly in my legs. My right arm and shoulder is only slightly more muscular then my left, as I am right handed. My hands are small and can be kinda cold, with long tapered fingers. I don’t normally wear nail polish. If I wear any, it is more a clear film or a very light normal nail color just to make it shine. No bracelets or rings for the most part.

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