/vt/ - Virtual Youtubers

Had some time to rewrite for better flow. Enjoy.

I Glove Kronii!
>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.