HIS STORY
In the veil of predawn darkness, the world still sleeping, I awaken with a start. Glancing around in the dim light, my gaze lands on the digital clock on the bedside table. It’s an unholy hour – 3:23 in the morning. My body rebels at the early awakening, yet it’s difficult to deny the stirring below, the strong, demanding pulse that refuses to be ignored.
That familiar hardness, a remnant of our encounter just a few hours ago, seems to echo the lingering sweetness of your touch, our bodies tangled together in passion. It’s as if the taste of you has become a part of me, a lingering promise of the pleasure we shared. The memory of that night is already a tantalizing echo in my mind, playing in an endless loop and sending shivers down my spine. I reach down, my fingers slowly tracing the length of my arousal, feeling the undeniable heat of it, as potent as when you were here in my arms.
Naked and exposed, I let my hand roam, caressing myself, attempting to ease the tension that won’t dissipate, the memory of your touch a tantalizing ghost against my skin. But each touch, each stroke only seems to fan the flames of my desire, making the ache more pronounced, more demanding.
My attention shifts, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. You lay there, still lost in slumber, a picture of peaceful serenity. Drawing closer, I can feel the soft heat radiating from your skin, filling the small space between us with a warm, inviting promise. Embracing you, the sweet scent of your body floods my senses, leaving me gasping, the fresh surge of longing threatening to consume me. The question of ‘what now?’ hovers in my mind, a conundrum in the face of our situation.
Having explored the depths of your pleasure mere hours ago, I can still feel the trace of you, our union, on me. The thought of filling your intimate folds once more is a tempting prospect, yet the risk of infection is a deterrent, a necessary restriction for maintaining our play possibilities.
I run my fingers along your body, tracing the delicate line of your spine down to the swell of your hips and between your legs. The wetness that greets my touch is intoxicating. The irresistible allure of your body draws me in, making me throb with desire. I linger there, teasing you with my touch before venturing further.
Our shared pleasure from earlier still lingers at your entrance, adding to the intoxicating mix of sensations. I run my fingers along the tight opening, the slickness of it triggering memories of the pleasure we shared. The touch, the feel of your body beneath my fingers, is too enticing to resist. The urge to claim you once more becomes overwhelming, a primal call that refuses to be ignored.
Reaching out for the bottle of lube on the nightstand, I slick up my throbbing length. The sensation of the cool lubricant against my hot skin sends a jolt of pleasure through me. The lust consuming me is an inferno, and as I play with your body, preparing you for what’s to come, your soft moan rings out in the quiet room, the only sound in our shared silence.
Taking my place behind you, my body molds against yours. I position myself at your entrance, gripping your hips tightly as I begin to push against the tight barrier. You tense against me, a natural reaction to the intrusion, but soon the resistance gives way to acceptance. I watch as you awaken, your fingers clutching at the sheets as I push further, entering you slowly until I’m buried deep within.
I start to move, each thrust slow and measured. With a few gentle strokes, your body adjusts to me, allowing me to take you as I please. The restraint crumbles, replaced by a ravenous hunger that I can no longer hold back. Picking up the pace, I lose myself in you, each thrust bringing us closer to the edge.
Your soft cries are growing louder, matching the tempo of our union, your body tightening around me as your climax builds. Not wanting to leave you wanting, I reach down, my fingers dancing over your sensitive folds until your body shakes, your back arching off the bed as your climax sweeps over you. The sensation of your body convulsing around me is too much. With a final, growling moan, I surrender to the pleasure, my climax ripping through me as I fill you.
Drained and satiated, I pull you closer, our bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. As we drift back to sleep, I can’t help but smile, knowing that I’ll wake up with you in my arms, still connected in the most intimate way possible.
HER STORY
Deep within the realms of slumber, I barely notice the stirring around me. The faint glow of the digital clock on the nightstand is a dim murmur in my subconscious, 3:23 am it reads, an hour when the world is still lost in dreams. Nestled within the cocoon of warmth, my senses slowly begin to pick up on the shifting energy around me.
Subtle movements stir me from my sleep, a hushed restlessness that reverberates in the silence of the early morning. It’s a familiar stirring, the quiet thrum of desire that seems to resonate from the figure beside me. It’s your presence, your body yearning, echoing the intensity of our encounter just a few hours ago.
I remain still, feigning sleep, a part of me curious about your actions, about the sensations that have awakened you so early. Unseen in the darkness, you’re exploring yourself, your hand tracing the hard contours of your arousal, the aftermath of our shared intimacy. The faint rustle of sheets, and the soft gasps that escape your lips – they’re telltale signs of your exploration, adding to the mysterious allure of the moment.
Suddenly, I feel you shifting, your attention turning towards me. You inch closer, your body heat permeating the space between us, pulling me toward wakefulness. As your arms encircle me, I’m enveloped in the comforting scent of you, a fragrance that’s become synonymous with pleasure. The closeness, the proximity, it’s almost suffocating, taking my breath away and leaving me awash with a fresh wave of desire. I play my part well, pretending to remain oblivious to your struggles, the questions you’re wrestling with.
Your fingers begin their dance on my skin, trailing down from my spine, over my curves, and down between my thighs. I stifle a moan, biting my lip as your touch finds my wetness. Your ministrations are slow, and deliberate, sending shivers coursing down my spine, matching the rhythm of my pulsating desire. You venture further, your touch exploring the aftermath of our earlier passion play. The memory of it sends a wave of anticipation through me, a reminder of the pleasure that had left me reeling just hours ago.
Suddenly, you pause, reaching out for something on the nightstand. I feel the cool slickness of lube against my heated skin, a contrast that sends jolts of pleasure coursing through me. It’s a slow tease, your fingers expertly working me up, pushing the boundaries of my self-restraint.
A low moan escapes my lips as you move behind me. I feel the blunt head of your arousal against me, ready to claim what it desires. As you push forward, my body reacts instinctively, clenching around the intrusion. Yet, with each gentle prod, each gentle push, my body starts to accommodate you, making room for you.
I blink my eyes open, slowly coming to, the sheets clutched in my fists. It’s a slow, burning pleasure, a symphony of sensations as you move within me, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. The tempo builds, and you’re taking me harder, each stroke bringing us closer to the edge.
Your fingers find my sensitive folds, playing a melody that sends me spiraling toward the climax. My cries fill the room, each gasp and moan matching the rhythm of our movements. The wave crashes over me, my body seizing up as my climax washes over me. Your movements become erratic, your grip on my hips tightening as you surrender to your own climax.
Sated and spent, I feel you pulling me closer, our bodies entwined in the aftermath.