Before The Alarm Rings - Sex Stories

Before The Alarm Rings

The trouble with Summer is that the smallest chink in the curtains lets in a blazing shaft of light as soon as the sun comes up. Unfortunately for Susanna, the chink in her room’s curtain, this morning, aligned exactly between the sun and her sleepy eyes. Feeling that someone had come into her room and thrown on the lights, to spite her, Susanna’s first waking action was to curl into a ball and pull the duvet over her head, summoning all her breath to direct a muffled, “Fuck off!” at whoever had ripped her from her dream.

Listening quietly for a few moments, it was apparent no one had entered the room. Her head slowly emerged from the duvet and, lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the light, she discovered that the culprit who interrupted her sleep was, in fact, ninety-three million miles away. And being a bright summer's day, it wasn’t about to fuck off anywhere, anytime soon.

Susanna turned in her bed to move out of the sun’s beam and glanced up at her phone which was perched on her bedside cabinet.

“06:32,” it read.

“What business does the Sun have turning up outside her window nearly half an hour before the alarm?” She thought.

A deep sigh helped to stretch and relax her internal muscles but she wasn’t keen to get up yet. She closed her eyes and anticipated falling fast asleep again any moment.

It was no use. Laying on her side was putting an uncomfortable pressure on her bladder which was going to need emptying before there was any chance of ...

... getting back to sleep. She hauled the heavy covers off and used her legs to pivot round in the bed until they were hanging off the side. With one elbow anchored in the mattress, she pressed on her left hand with her right and levered herself upright with minimal exertion. Her feet lined up almost exactly with her slippers, so on they went.

Another heavy sigh and the naked sleeper stood up, eyes still half shut, and zombie-shuffled into the en-suite bathroom. Being nude, she straddled the toilet seat and rested her head on her arms, folded across the stylish unit that hid the cistern. The thundering noise of her piss, charging into the water due to her position, reverberated around the tiled bathroom and likely around whichever room was directly below.

It was a long piss but the relief on her body, as her bladder emptied, was blissful. She stayed seated for a few minutes after the flow stopped, partly to allow a final few drips to drop, but mostly because she was far too comfortable to move.

Eventually, she dropped her hand to the loo roll and ripped off a handful of sheets to wipe herself dry. She flushed it all away as she stood up. Hands washed, she schlepped back to her bed, kicked off her slippers, rolled back onto the soft mattress, and hauled the heavy covers back over.

Another check of the clock showed, “06:39.”

Twenty minutes until the alarm. She was wide awake now and had little prospect of snoozing before it would be time to get up again.

(What wouldyou ...