Lying in bed, I wasn’t ready to wake up. In truth, my mind was wandering to what I’d rather do.
Kneel between his legs, spread wide on the bed. Run my tongue over his balls, taking each one gently into my mouth, with the barest suction.
I could hear his moans in my mind. Imagine his thighs straining against the sensation. Watch his hips lift. Feel his hands on my head.
That last part wasn’t a daydream. While I’d drifted in my own erotic fantasy, he reached out and snaked his fingers through my sleep-mussed hair.
He pulled. I squeaked.
A firm hand pulled my leg over his hip. Without warning, he stroked my clit. Rough. Cruel. Insistent.
I melted. His grip in my hair brought me back to attention. My body blossomed under the assault. I begged for mercy, for more, for an orgasm.
“Come for me, girl. I want that pussy soaked when I fuck you.”
The explosion was hard and fast. Bright lights behind my eyes, clenched muscles, and a cunt that spasmed over and over again.
Still holding my hair, he pushed me forward, his fingers stroking my slit from behind. My back arch. My hips moved into position. The squelch on his initial thrust gave me away.
Was it the orgasm that made me so wet? The roughness of his touch? The way he held me in place? His voice, firm and demanding?
Did it matter?
As his cock slid in and out, and my body betrayed my desire for him to hear, he pulled me towards him. My breasts jutted forward, too tantalizing for him to resist.
First, the insistence pinching-rub that always makes me hiss and cry as my cunt clamps down over his cock. Then
He slapped the sensitive nipple until I cried out in real pain.
It was delicious.
He snaked a hand around my throat. My breathing immediately changed, although he applied no pressure. As our excitement – and his fucking – accelerated, he squeezed my neck ever so slightly. I gulped in air, raspy sounds filling the room, combining with the sticky sounds from my pussy and the thwap-thwap-thwap of his pelvis against my bottom.
He moved faster and faster. His growls and moans were louder. His grips on my body tightened.
As he found his own pleasure, he buried his face into his pillow and bellowed as he came deep inside my body, thrusting once, twice, three times before releasing me. As he let me go, our ragged breathing was all that remained of the music we’d just made.
Welcome to Masturbation Monday! I can only imagine what might have happened if I’d told him what I was thinking before he fucked me. Rawr! Okay, go forth, and celebrate this, the best of all days!
You always write THE BEST kinda posts. *Licks lips* 🙂
It helps that I have REALLY good inspiration. 😀
Oh this is my kind of morning music!
Love your story. As for the illustration, I had that done to me once and it was exquisite.
That view is freaking hypnotizing…and it makes my mouth water. I can only imagine what it must be like to witness or experience.
[…] miss the music we used to make. Full of growls and whimpers, sighs and gasps. I squeaked and he […]