Morning. You’re impossible to wake up.
I thought I’d tried everything. Gentle words. Shaking your shoulder. Pulling the covers off. You’d just grumble and curl tighter into a ball, dead to the world, absolutely useless.
But I’ve finally found something that works.
I push your thighs apart while you’re still half-asleep. You mumble something, not quite conscious yet, not quite understanding what’s happening. And then my palm connects with your pussy. Sharp. Quick. Not hard enough to really hurt, but hard enough to wake you up.
Your eyes fly open. Your hips jerk. You make that confused little gasp, somewhere between shock and arousal, before your brain has even caught up to what your body is feeling.
Another slap. Your thighs try to close on instinct, but I’m already between them. You’re wet. You’re always wet in the morning, but this is different. This is your body snapping to attention, waking up all at once.
"I’m awake," you whimper. "I’m awake, I’m—"
Another one. Watching you jolt, watching the pink bloom across your pussy, watching your sleepy confusion melt into desperate, needy want.
"Are you though?" Slap. "Are you really awake?" Slap. "Or do you need a few more?"
You’re squirming now. Dripping onto the sheets. Eyes wide, mouth open, so pretty and pathetic.
"There she is." I smile at you. "There’s my girl."
You stumble out of bed flushed, trembling, and desperate… suddenly very motivated to start the day.
