The bedroom is bright with midday sun pouring through the sheer curtains, turning everything warm and golden. You’re sprawled on your stomach across the sheets, one leg bent, the other straight, face half-buried in the pillow. Your breathing is slow, heavy, the kind of deep sleep that comes after a lazy morning and too much coffee. Completely out. Completely mine.
I sit on the edge of the mattress for a minute just watching you, hair messy across your shoulders, tank top ridden up to show the small of your back, those soft cotton panties hugging the curve of your ass. Pale pink today. Simple. Innocent. Makes what I’m about to do feel even dirtier.
My fingers find the waistband first. I hook them under the elastic and tug, slow, so slow the fabric barely makes a sound as it drags down over your skin. You don’t twitch. Not when I ease them past the swell of your cheeks, not when the cotton slides along the backs of your thighs, not even when I slip them off your ankles and drop them to the floor. Sunlight catches the bare skin between your legs now, and fuck, you look so open already. So ready even though your eyes are still closed.
I shift behind you, knees bracketing your hips. My cock’s already aching, thick and leaking from the quiet thrill of peeling you bare while you dream. I spit into my palm, once, twice, then stroke myself slick, lining up at your entrance. You’re warm, a little damp from sleep and whatever sweet thing you were dreaming about. I press in slow, steady, no rush. Just one long glide until I’m seated deep and your cunt flutters once around me like it recognizes me instantly.
A tiny sigh slips out of you. Not awake. Just your body saying yes without words.
I stay still a second, savoring how perfectly you take me, how your walls pulse lazily like they’re trying to keep me inside. My hands settle on your hips, gentle, possessive, thumbs stroking the soft skin there in slow circles. Then I start to move.
Shallow rocks at first. Tiny thrusts that barely shift the mattress. Just enough to feel you open more, to feel how wet you get with every slide back in. Your breathing changes, deeper, a little quicker, but your lashes don’t flutter. Your mouth stays soft and parted against the pillow.
I lean down, chest brushing your back, lips at your ear.
“That’s it, baby,” I murmur, voice low and rough. “Let me fuck you while you sleep. Let me use this pretty little cunt like it’s mine to take whenever I want.”
Your hips twitch, just the smallest involuntary rock back, and I give you more. Longer strokes now. Deeper. Still careful, still controlled, but filling you completely each time. The wet sound of us is loud in the quiet afternoon light and I love it. Love that you’re letting me have this, love that your body knows exactly what to do even when your mind is somewhere else.
Your cunt starts gripping harder. Little rhythmic squeezes. I know that rhythm. I slide one hand under you, cupping your breast through the thin tank top, thumb circling your nipple until it stiffens and you whimper, soft, needy, still lost in sleep.
I press my mouth to the back of your neck.
“Come for me, sweetheart. Come on my cock while the sun’s still up and you don’t even know it.”
Your thighs tremble. Your back arches just enough to take me deeper. And then it hits, quiet, rolling, helpless. Your walls flutter and clench around me in long, slow pulses, a shaky exhale that sounds almost like my name muffled into the pillow. No big cry. No sudden wake-up. Just your body giving itself over completely.
I follow right after. Bury myself as deep as I can and spill inside you, hot, thick pulses that mark you while you’re still drifting. I groan low against your skin, hips pressed flush, emptying everything I have.
When I’m done I don’t pull out yet.
I stay buried, softening inside you, arms wrapping around your middle, nose pressed to your hair. Breathing you in, sun-warmed skin, sleep, us. Your breathing evens out again, slow and peaceful.
Eventually I ease out, careful, and tug the sheet up over your hips. I kiss the nape of your neck once, soft, almost tender, then settle beside you, one hand resting possessively on your ass under the covers.
You’ll wake up in a little while. Sticky. Full. A little confused for about three seconds.
Then you’ll feel me watching you with that lazy, satisfied smile, and you’ll know.
You’ll blush. You’ll smile back.
2087
andulkaphoto
kaledo-art
yousharknotpass
dailybridgerton
theartofmadeline
vaporwave
