Sloppy Wet #MasturbationMonday

Little spoon to his big spoon, I wasn’t ready to wake up yet. The bed was too comfortable. The temperature was perfect. My eyes were glued together.

He tweaked and strummed my bare nipples. Just enough to feel good.

Part of my brain wanted firmer, rougher, meaner. This felt nice and did warm tingly things to my body, but it wasn’t enough to open my eyes.

We rolled over together. On my back, I woke up only a little. My eyes stayed shut. His fingers continued to do sweet things to my body.

He hooked an ankle around mine and spread my thighs apart. For once, his touch was gentle. No rough strokes. No aggressive moves. He strummed, tweaked, and stroked my pussy as he had my breasts.

I quivered. I trembled. My eyes still didn’t open.

His fingers dove in, collecting the wet heat that pooled deep inside. The rush of warmth that followed his touches made my breath catch in my throat. The building desire had me sighing. I still didn’t open my eyes.

Tap-tap-tap. Swirl. Tap-tap. Stop. Swirl.

He set a maddening tempo, building me up and then stopping. My eyes flew open. I needed more. Now.

I opened my legs wider. I pushed my pelvis towards his hand. I gripped the iron railings of our bed until my knuckles were white.

He continued the tap-swirl-stop-repeat method, bringing me a little closer each time, but not close enough.

I whimpered and sighed, waiting for the painful pleasure of an orgasm that barrels down like a freight train.

Between torturous strokes, his fingers sank deep. My desire and his touch produced a loud squelching sound. He chuckled – knowing what he’d done to me.

“Listen to that sloppy wet pussy of yours, girl.”

Flick-flick. Tap-tap-tap. Flick. Swirl. Flick-flick. Tap-tap-tap. Swirl.

He’d found the exact right combination. I babbled.

“Please may I? Please may I? Pleasepleasepleaseplease?”

“Please what, babygirl?”

“PleasemayIcum?” The words ran together incoherently.

“Yesssssss.”

A flood of warmth coated his fingers and my thighs. I swallowed down screams of pleasure. My back arched. My grip on the bed tightened. I twisted away, writhing in pain and pleasure.

Even as I gasped for breath and floated back down to earth, he was ready for more.

He pulled my body against him, little spoon to his big spoon again. Grabbing my hips, pushing my head forward, angling my body just so, he thrust his cock deep. I gasped and then melted into the bed.

Each thrust produced a wet sound. My desire was evident. He laughed and whispered dirty things in my ear.

“Dirty slut.”

“Listen to that used pussy, wanting more.”

“My whore.”

Each word sent tremors through my body. In that moment, I was all those things. I was whatever he wanted me to be. Don’t. Stop. Fucking. Me.

“You’re sloppy and wet for me.”

Yes. Always. Please. More.

A hand around my throat. A hand in my hair. A smack to my cheek. I was drowning in a sea of sensations.

In the background, loud squelches continued to play. My body was sloppy and wet for him. Always him.

Welcome to Masturbation Monday! In our house, we call that moment “Sunday morning” – swallowing screams is often caused by wide awake children running through the living room (in case you wondered). Okay, my smut isn’t the only smut. Go forth and read all the yummy goodness from other readers this week!