Birds chirped, and the sun crept in from the small opening between the curtains. It was enough to rouse us. I held myself in that place between sleep and waking. Smelling the cold air that drifted in over the heat of the radiator. I heard a sigh and felt them turn, their leg against mine and then the softness of their bottom against my hip.
I slowly shifted against the smoothness of the sheets. The warmth of their body against mine as I slipped my arm around them and molded against them. They sighed again and placed their hand over mine.
I drifted back to sleep for a moment or somewhere close to it, but came back as they guided my hand to the curve of their breast. When I felt the weight of it and hungrily squeezed it, their sigh grew longer. I played there, as I liked to, just enjoying the feel of their body, my fingers finding their nipple and eventually my mouth finding their neck.
Their ass pushed back at me, and I strained to pull off my boxers, but they wouldn’t let me have my hands back. They held them to their breasts. They just writhed against me, finding my hardness and grinding against it.
Finally, they turned slightly, giving me their lips for a moment, then their hands went to my head. They pushed me down, down to where they wanted me. Their fingers closing in my hair, pulling and directing until I was under the warm sheets and blankets, my lips against their breasts, then their belly, then finally between their legs.
They held me there, pulling my hair and lifting their hips. They could control me, but I could tease them, at least for a moment. We both knew I wanted it as much as they did. I needed it.
The map of their desire was learned early on. Circling carefully, dipping between their lips, never directly touching the core of their pleasure, but instead finding the edges of it and building pressure. That went on and on until they pushed my mouth to be more direct.
The words came rushed, but I followed them. Sometimes I was sucking their cock, sometimes I was licking their pussy. It wasn’t as complicated as it might seem. I followed and did what they wanted. I wanted to be the thing that brought them pleasure.
In the end, when they were close, I became more forceful. My finger slipping into them and my mouth sucking them. That morning it was their cock. They called me a good boy, that I was sucking it good for them. My fingers worked in and out until I felt my muscles cramping. My mouth was sore, but I had to get them there. There was nothing but their pleasure.
Finally, their breath caught, and their cries became higher, louder, and then their legs closed, and they pulled me on top of them, to hold them. I watched all those chemicals and emotions wash over them as their body tightened and spasmed and then collapsed.
We kissed softly. Slowly I watched them relax. Finally, their legs opened again, and my cock slipped against the soaking wetness of them.
“Now you can take what you want, since you were such a good boy,” they whispered.
Sometimes it was long and drawn out with all sorts of play, but in those mornings, it was often rushed and mostly physical. I got them off and then, when they were ready, slipped my aching cock into them and fucked them.
It wasn’t fast, but simple, biological, our bodies fitting together and allowing me to push deep inside of them. Their eyes closed as they climbed as well. Fucking harder, my hands on their breasts, my hands on their belly, on their hips, just feeling all of them, enjoying that they were mine in that moment. Enjoying fucking them, using their body.
When I came, they seemed to cherish it, enjoy what they did to me. Then we both collapsed. Panting and wet and exhausted.
We slept like that, back to the dreams of a few minutes before—a long morning exertion before a short nap and then coffee.