Precious pearls abandoned at home

In my small town time has stopped.
The houses, in the morning, are chests of priceless treasures.
As the world of males is poured on the streets and offices, so many precious pearls remain abandoned at home. I've stolen them for you.
The first is sitting at the kitchen table; the smell of coffee branches out the house; her wide legs, under the robe of jersey, free the smell and the mood of the night before.
The second, on the balcony, with the smell of the sea not far away, sweeps the colored tiles. Breast sways and peeps, under the light blouse, due to the movement of the broom.
The third, with a lighted cigarette, sat on the toilet and let it from her cunt trickle away the last sperm, fruit of the love quickly consumed before.
The fourth is in front of the mirror. Pencil and lipstick glide on the beautiful face fresh for the restful sleep. She is beautiful for herself; the others, lucky, will enjoy so much loveliness.
The last pearl has remained in bed, under the sheet. When she decided to get up, her hand had slipped down to the cunt. She had begun to caress coming up. Now she feels empty and serene. She thinks: "Five more minutes and then I get up."