The bed sank beneath his weight. It was enough to rouse me. Not enough to make me move, but I was conscious. Glad the clock wasn’t on my side of the bed, I tried not speculate just how late I’d slept.
He didn’t speak, probably because he thought I was still asleep. I wouldn’t have minded the luxury of drifting back off.
He curled his body around me, wedging a leg between mine. Oh. No, I wasn’t going back to sleep.
When he wakes me up, it’s usually with a bit of rough play, almost as if he’s shocking me out of sleep. Not this time.
With a gentle stroke of my slit, I melted into the bed. Mmmm, that felt good. Another, softer. I really could drift back to sleep like this.
His touch became firmer. Demanding, still gentle, but the softness from before was gone. I could hear the juicy sloshing of his hand and my body. He wasn’t hitting the exact spot, but gawd this felt good. Soooo good.
Eep! There was the spot. Wide awake now, I was torn between not wanting it to end and desperately wanting the orgasm I could feel building.
I flipped onto my back, giving him easier access to…oh yes, right there. Squeaks and moans were all I could really manage. His hand clamped down over my mouth. Fuck, now I really wanted to come.
A muffled please, followed by grunts and groans.
“Come for me, girl. Come for your Daddy.”
Jeebus, the words and growl alone were enough. He stroked my slit, now soaked and pressed into my clit until my body tightened and spasmed, and I squealed behind his hand.
Before the aftershocks of my Sunday morning orgasm could subside, he rolled me to my side, pulled me close, and slid his cock into my body. One hand on my hips, crushing my flesh, and the other in my hair, alternately stroking and pulling. He felt amazing.
An easy wake-up followed by an easy fuck. Isn’t that how every Sunday should be?
Welcome to Masturbation Monday! Sure this happened on Sunday, but reliving it on Monday is pretty damn nice, too. Okay, go forth, click the picture below, and read more smutty goodness! You know you want to.