Warm and hard, he surges against my hand, stroking the velvet steel head of his cock against my palm with ragged breaths.
“Hon,” he says with plaintive insistence, shushing his long fingers over my breasts, “I need to be in you.”
“Mmmm…” is my initial reply, content for the moment to slowly swim to consciousness, absorbing the morning light at my leisure.
He takes my non-response as acquiescence and straddles my hips. Strong. Insistent.
I open my eyes fully, awake and amused, taking in the sight before me: Desperately Aroused Male.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask.
“I need to be inside you.”
I quirk my brow.
“Hon…” His voice is querulous.
“Just… Two strokes. One. Something. ANYTHING.”
“And that would do… What?… For me?”
“This is not about your pleasure. It’s about mine. And what you are suggesting does not please me. It’s time to get up now.”
I can see the battle waging on his face, and it is with a curious mixture of pride and exasperation that he unbends his knees from where they are pinning me captive and moves to lay alongside me.
My chuckle at his plight does not go unnoticed, and I smile at his consternation while savoring the sensation of his hard cock pressing against my outer thigh.
He takes a deep breath – the kind he takes just before a well-formulated plea escapes his lips – and I cut him off before he can begin.
A beat of silence.
Oh how I love that sound…