I’m used to waking up to hands on my hips, pulling me to him, his cock stiff and twitching with need. But today he was in a different mood.
I wasn’t ready to open my eyes or move. Lying on my back, one side of my body pressed against John Brownstone, his warmth seeped into my bones.
Fingertips caressed my mons, freshly waxed and soft. His skin against mine always feels good. He took his time, with gentle strokes, coaxing my body into full awareness. This was his adagio.
My knees opened. Warm skin met cool air. I shivered slightly, but the chill was quickly replaced by hot, seeking fingers. Still moving slowly, exploring depths unknown.
Like a musician, he plucked and strummed. Like an instrument, I sang the music of his making. Small gasps, then whimpers. My back arched as my mouth fell open. I squeezed my eyes shut against the looming crescendo.
There was no time to ask permission, to beg. The first climax swelled from deep within. He increased the tempo, moving faster, pushing harder.
This was his concerto. He read my body like sheet music, moving his fingers faster and slower, keeping me on a razor’s edge of pleasure…
Until I pulled away, my body contorting with pulsing pleasure that ran through my veins. I curled into myself on one wave of pleasure, and stretched out to my full length on the next, rumbling orgasmic waves taking over.
A thick finger sunk into my soaked cunt, wetter than usual.
The familiar sensation of hands on my hips, pulling me into him, I knew it was his turn to make music, but I was still his chosen instrument. This was his encore.
Welcome to Masturbation Monday! Why a music themed piece of smut? I have no idea…ask whatever weirdness lies in my brain. Okay, for more smut AND to enter to win a JETT from Hot Octopuss, click the button below! This giveaway lasts until May 17, 2019. After that, a new giveaway will open with a new prize!