Morning Sex, J's Version

I wake before he does. We are sleeping back-to-back, touching from shoulder to hip, one of my feet entwined with his. I turn over, curl around him, press against his warmth, his solidity, breathe in the morning scent of him. He sighs in his sleep and rolls to his back, pulling me tighter against him, curving an arm around me.

I trail one hand over his chest, kneading my fingers into the springy hair there, across his belly, and down, between his legs. He is soft still, still asleep, and I cup him in my hand, cock and balls, like a bird, holding him. He begins to grow hard almost immediately. I hold him tighter, squeeze, enjoy the feel of this growth, so foreign and beautiful and fascinating. I stroke gently down the length of his shaft and back to the tip, and he moans and stirs, waking.

“What do you want, little girl?” he asks in a sleep-rough voice.

I shiver. He knows just the tone, just the words I need this morning. He saw me come in last night, with my bruised ass, and knows that there was no sexual gratification in it for me. And he knows how much I need that, need a man’s cock inside me, need to be desired and filled and fucked after I have been beat.

I grind my hips against him and grip his cock tighter. “You,” I say.

He brings a hand to the back of my head and gently grabs a handful of hair. Not enough for pain, just enough to…remind me…who is in charge. “Where?” he says, softly. It’s not a question, though, it’s a demand, and I shiver again.

“Inside me,” I say.

“Where?” he says again, a little sharper, his hand tightening just a bit on the back of my head. I swallow. He’s going to make me say it.

“Please,” I say, hoping that will be enough.

It is not.

“Say it,” he says, implacable. Because he knows this is what I need.

I grind against him, pull on him, stroke his impossibly hard cock. I turn my face against his neck, needing to hide the embarrassment I feel even in the half-light of early morning. “My pussy,” I breathe. “Please, fuck my pussy.”

He chuckles and pulls me on top of him. I strip off the nightgown I had been wearing over my head and look down to see him watching me, smiling slightly. Slowly I settle down on him. I am slippery but tight, since I haven’t had sex in a few days, and he lets me take my time, pulling him partway into me, and then further and further until finally, with a groan, he thrusts up into me, filling me, filling me, until I sigh.

God I love him inside me. I lay down over him for a few minutes, arms wrapped around him, mouth at his neck, tasting his skin, relishing how full I feel with him inside me. Then he pushes me upright and, hands on my hips, begins to stroke me up and down his shaft, pulling me up and forward and then sliding me back and down. I moan, I can’t help it…

I take his hands in mine and move them to my breasts. I look down and see the shadows playing across our bodies in the early morning light and am overcome with love and desire and awe. And as we move, and as my excitement builds, he reaches around and grabs my ass in the spots that are bruised. Because he knows I need that. And with that, and with him pushing me roughly down on him, with the deep ache of his fingers pressing the bruises in my flesh, I come.

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