Sex stories

Its six am and you’re bitching already. I know you had a rough night last night, but how on earth does anyone wake up angry? I burrow down under the covers. Hiding from your mood. I hear your exasperated sigh; can almost feel you rolling your eyes at me.



Dim morning light barely filters through the comforter. The air is stale and warm. Almost stifling. I don’t want to stay, but I don’t want to come out either. I don’t blame you for being in a shitty mood, but that doesn’t mean I want to deal with it.



Slowly but surely an idea takes hold and a smile creeps across my face.



I feel my way with my hands, your thighs tensing and relaxing as my fingers find them and follow them. Down. Back up. Slowly. Over your hips. Tugging at the waistband of your pajamas.



I drop little kisses on your belly as I work them down over your hips. And lower. You’re getting hard already, but not fully there yet. I kiss your thigh, nibbling a bit, and feel you swell against my cheek.



From outside of the covers I hear you sigh and I smile. You’re not exasperated anymore. You shift one leg, bending your knee to give me room to climb between your legs- part invitation and part demand. I accept both. My hands are on the insides of your thighs now and you’re moving your hips. I know what you want.



Not yet.



I press my lips to that soft vulnerable spot right at the junction of leg, hip and groin. Rubbing my cheek against the silky skin of your swelling dick- on purpose this time. Letting my hot breath spill out, inhaling it right back in with the concentrated scent of you.



Stifled under these sheets I suddenly feel urgent and demanding. I open my mouth wide and suck one of your balls into it, swirling my tongue against it as it tightens. You grunt and jerk and I feel the weight of your hand on my head through the sheets. I suck harder, pulling away, and let it pop out of my mouth, immediately moving to the other one.



Your dick is fully hard now and bobbing around with a mind of its own, bumping my nose and forehead in its search for somewhere warm and wet to bury itself. I squeeze your thighs to keep myself from fisting you, stroking you, pumping you until you explode.



Not yet.



My tongue presses between your balls, massaging, separating them, sliding upto the base of your dick, slowly spreading spit up the ridge along the underside of your shaft. All the way to that spot just under the head, pressing there in little circles, exhaling over the tight skin at the head. I see the drop form in the muted darkness and I want to taste it.



Not yet.



Back down to the base, I lick slowly up the left side, the the right, underneath again, you’re shifting constantly now, dying for me to take you in my mouth and suck. I am too.



Not yet.



I keep licking, teasing you with my fingertips on your belly, thighs, balls. You shove your hands under the sheets and grab my ponytail, steering me where you want me to go. I wonder if you can hear my giggle.



Your other hand fists your dick and you blindly try to get it in my mouth, thumping it against my cheeks and lips. I take pity and close both hands around yours, stilling you so I can drag my tongue slowly over the head of your dick, the long low moan you make making me squirm with my own need to be touched.



I close my lips around the head and suck. Hard. My tongue swirling around and around. Flicking the little hole at the tip. Tasting the liquid leaking out.



You move your hand out of the way, turning me loose, stroking my cheek, feeling the way my lips are stretched around you, my jaw straining as I take you deeper, my cheeks hollowing as I suck.



More, I want more. My lips reach my hand and I squeeze and suck at the same time. Your hips lift up as you press the back of my head with both hands, lodging yourself in my throat. I gag and try to swallow around you while your fingers tangle in my hair painfully, holding me in place.



I know you love this. I do too. It makes me feel powerful, being able to take your anger and turn it into something else.



You start thrusting into me, fucking my mouth. Still not quite able to breathe, my tongue undulates wildy against your shaft and my fingers let go of your dick to grasp your hips, turning control over to you. I can’t help writhing with anticipation.



I want you to come. I need you to.



You pull me up by my hair so I can catch my breath- as if I could in the smothering darkness. I don’t care. I plunge back down, in attack mode, fully focused on one thing.



Come. Come in my mouth. Let me feel you swell and throb. Let me taste you. Make me swallow it down and keep sucking as you soften in my mouth, leaving me somewhere between sated and dying with my own need, my cheek resting on your thigh, your hands tangled in my ruined ponytail. Hiding under the covers.



I hope you’re in a better mood. I could really use some coffee.