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Sunday morning–woke up early.

The gentle sun breaking through the slat blinds, illuminating a haze of dust above the curve of your spine. The rounded hump of your ass barely peeking out from beneath the periwinkle linen sheet. You picked those out, but couldn’t have guessed how perfect they’d look against your sun-kissed skin.

Hand moving up your thigh, wrapping around and gripping it tight. There’s a chirping blackbird outside, its nest nestled beneath the awning. And its lilting morning tune matches my pace as I slowly move between the cushion of your thighs.

There’s your slit. Just a brief tease with my middle finger. You’re still sleeping, but stir slightly, an airy moan escaping your lips. I push a little deeper and you wiggle your hips, your entrance tight and shy but slowly warming to my entreaty. And there it is, just a knuckle inside, tickling against the textured ridges of your sweet space.

Growing wetter. Clenching against my second knuckle. Warm, warm, warm, as I slide further inside. Still asleep, but you know the moves, you push against me, your small hands digging into the sheets as I add a second finger. My unburied hand grasps for your ass, kneading the bare skin gently, watching it spring back to its perfect fucking shape. If there’s any proof that God exists–or, perhaps, that the Devil is alive and well–it’s your goddamn ass. It’s a perfect peach in anything, from loose grey sweats to tight black dresses.

And there they are: the marks from last night. What was just the red imprint of my palm has blossomed into a gorgeous dark purple. You at all times love a good smack when you take it from behind and *I* love seeing the evidence the next day. My thumb pushed against the welt, eliciting a little whimper despite your refusal to wake.

Now the noises begin. The slick sliding and gushing as you really open up for me. In and out. In and out. God, do I love fingering you. I pull out, dragging that dripping honey along your inner thighs. Both hands grip your hips and twist, tossing you onto your back. Are you really still sleeping? Or just pretending? Think you’re having a **wet dream**? I mean, you *are* soaked.

I’ll taste it for myself soon enough. Sweet and salty and dappled with **need**. Lean low, let my teeth run along the soft flesh of your thigh. A small peck before I tease to the left and right of your labia. Up and down and then flicking near your hood. I’ll hold my tongue like a dagger and make you beg for it even while you dream.

*There it is*, my early morning shadow scratching gently against your legs while I place my lips softly around your **cunt**. I begin with my tongue flat, pushing as many of my taste buds as I can manage against the tiny bundle of nerves.

You inhale sharply. Waking up now?

Flicking upwards, a trail of saliva connecting the tip of that muscle to your swollen pearl. Then back down, swirling around it gently until I lean in to suck. There it is–your hands through my hair, gripping and pulling and moaning as you grind against my chin. You’re either awake or having the best fucking dream of your life.

I’m insatiable. At all times in pursuit of your pleasure. So, as you’re breathing grows more hurried–and your hands more busy–I grow more forceful. My hands get busy too, you know? They’ve gotta go somewhere. So why not under that perfect fucking peach of an ass? Two palms full of firm cheeks, squeezing as my tongue flicks from the bottom of your cunt to the apex of your little hood. Then I slip one hand from your ass to push two fingers back inside you, pushing down to make you fill full, and suck, suck, suck. It’s like balancing a jelly bean on the tip of my tongue, making it wiggle and dance, rolling it over and over.

And you’re getting close. I can tell. I can at all times detect the slight changes in the way that you breathe. The way that your body moves in a different rhythm as you try to lead me where you need me. Don’t worry babe, I’ll get you there. Take at all times you need.

A bell tolls in the distance and I grin as I briefly consider the Lord’s Prayer:

*Hallowed be thy name…*

You’ll utter mine quietly beneath your breath.

*…forgive us our trespasses…*

Let me just…*push* until I’m up to my palm in your slit.

*…lead us not into temptation…*

Too late, honey.

*…deliver us from evil…*

I’ll deliver you to bliss. That’s it–arch your back, push against me, feel my fingers dig deep into your flesh.

*For thine is the kingdom…*

Your **pussy* is a fucking kingdom. Gilded and slick and way too fucking tight. Fingers out. Both hands gripping your ass again, holding you up, as if your clit could press any harder against my tongue.

*The power and the glory…*

Here it comes. I can tell you’re biting your lip.

*For ever and ever…*

**AH**.

Men.

There it is. Full body shivers. Collapsing into the mess of linen. Heavy breathing. You pushing me away as I keep teasing your clit. Too sensitive, too sensitive. The smell of coffee. Auto-brew. A kiss on each cheek. Another for your lips. Let you taste yourself on me. That unyielding wetness–made a mess of me and a mess of the sheets. As it should be.

Anyway.

Good morning.

NSFW: yes

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