Drowsy on Her Date
Carrie felt like she was being terribly rude. After everything Laurel had done to make time in her schedule for their date night, after all the time sheâd put in cooking the wonderful meal, after all the elaborate preparations sheâd made just to make Carrie happy, the least she deserved was an engaged and attentive lover. But somehow, the more Laurel gently fingered Carrieâs wet, hungry pussy, the more Carrie wanted to let her pale, drowsy limbs sag into the mattress and relax into limp, lazy ecstasy under Laurelâs touch. ââm sorryâŚâ she murmured, unable to even articulate her thoughts properly under the weight of all that sleepy bliss.
But Laurel only kissed her on the forehead and cooed softly, âItâs okay. Itâs okay, baby girl. Sssh. You donât need to worry about a thing.â Somehow, the words seemed to smooth away the last of Carrieâs fears and concerns, her body sagging even deeper into the mattress as a wave of sleepy relaxation washed gently from her head all the way down to her toes. She could still feel the arousal building inside herâLaurelâs fingers were just as talented with Carrieâs clit as they had been with a chefâs knifeâbut it mingled with the drowsiness instead of fighting it. Carrieâs hips rolled slowly up and down, but the action felt mindless and automatic to her now.
It felt so soothing to rest her head on the pillow, her long blonde hair spilling out all around her as Laurel gently murmured, âThatâs it, sweet girl. Thatâs my drowsy little dolly.â It made Carrie feel so wonderfully, delightfully contented to slump loosely into the soft bed and let that stroking finger lull her into a helpless reverie of dreamy, thoughtless arousal. Time slowly transformed into pleasure, as if following some equation of ecstasy that Carrie was far too sleepy to solve. She didnât need to think. She didnât need to act. She only needed to relax and obey.
Obey. Somehow that word seemed incongruous, out of place next to all the other warm thoughts of sleep and rest and relaxation and drowsy pleasure filling her brain as she drifted off into a daze listening to Laurelâs honeyed voice. Carrie wasnât quite sure how to fit it into her head. But then Laurelâs fingers skated along her clit again, and those smooth, dulcet tones murmured, âDrowsy dollies love to obey,â and that seemed to make everything make sense. Carrie was drowsy. She was a drowsy little dolly. And drowsy little dollies loved to obey. Carrie didnât need to think about it. She only needed to dream of pleasure and listen and sink deeper. That was easy. That was so easy that Carrie couldnât do anything else if she tried.
Carrie wasnât sure if she came, or if the warm, sleepy pleasure that saturated her mind just naturally reached a point where it filled her up so completely that it was like every breath was a tiny orgasm under the power of Laurelâs perfect touch. She didnât know whether she slept, or whether she simply drifted along in that warm, happy trance listening to Laurelâs beautiful voice until her brain switched off too completely to remember the sequence of events. All she knew was that at some point, it became morning and she woke up in Laurelâs arms. Still happy. Still blissfully aroused. And gazing at her lover with a sense of deepened devotion that made her wish she could spend all day in bed pleasing Laurelâs beautiful body. âI, um⌠Iâm sorry,â she murmured, her brow furrowing in confusion as her new thoughts warred briefly with her old self.
âThereâs nothing to be sorry about,â Laurel reassured her with a smile. âBut if you want to make it up to me, wellâŚ.â Her fingers tangled into Carrieâs hair. She gave the lightest tug. And Carrie slid down between Laurelâs thighs to pay a little attention to her Mistress for a while.






















