Morning Person - Sex Stories

Morning Person

It's one of those mornings. You peel open your eyes and wonder what the fuck happened to you last night. You breathe deep and stretch and it hits you – that smell. Pussy, come and desperation. Mmmm your favorite smell. Your face is sticky and your mouth tastes sour and thick, but damned if it's not the best way to wake up. Suddenly you remember being knuckle deep in a cunt you didn't yet know, remember the stretch and pull and the taste of it, and you drag your fingers under your nose just to jog your memory a little more. Flashes of dark hair and unfocused eyes flit across your mind and you finally get up and look her way. She's out, splayed across three quarters of the bed like an offering – one you're about to accept, no problem. Bruises and scratches litter both of you and you grin...baby likes it rough and you count yourself the lucky motherfucker you are. You hear her in your head, whimpers and moans and crying out and the begging...fuck the begging...and that's all you need. You flip over and crawl toward her, making room for yourself as you go. She groans in her sleep but doesn't wake. You take a second just to look. Such a pretty pussy. Fat puffy lips you remember spanking pink at her request and the cutest clit you recall having your lips and teeth around for a long time greet you and you trail your finger over them. She twitches but sleeps on. The shine of old lube and the faint smell of ass and that comes back to you too. Baby takes it wherever and however you ...

... give it and you're. just. done. There's not another second going by without your mouth on her cunt and your strap deep in whichever hole you feel like putting it in. But then you stop and take that second, debating...do you wake her up before or let her come to moaning, two fingers in her twat and your strap up her ass...maybe you start off easy and let her wake slow and sweet before you bend her in half and inhale her. Decisions, decisions. You settle for a sharp nip to her thigh at the same time you slide your fingers into her pussy, being sure to scrape across that rough little patch that sets her on fire – every single time. She gasps, choking on a moan, and she's crying your name before she's even awake enough to know her own, and you know...this was the right choice. You can tell when she's with you by the way she cries out – your name sharpening on her tongue and the whimpering choking off – bitten back because she knows just how much you like those sweet crying sounds. She has little control here – she gave that to you and it's non-negotiable – but what she does have she wields like a master. She knows her pussy, ass and mouth are yours, period. So is everything else, for that matter. Almost everything, you correct yourself. Her voice. That's all hers. You can order her silence but you can't control the way she cries for you. This, she knows. And this, she uses. You've known her for months and owned her for a single day, but she learns fast, both how to please you and ...