Erotic Fiction: Good Morning

Black and white fine arts portrait of a couple sleeping

Sleeping Couple by Karin Rosenthal, (1997)

Good morning….

He hears her voice and catches her scent – incense, candles. His private church. He feels her in their bed. Soft body. Jutting hips. Damp between the thighs. But she isn’t there. Hasn’t been in so long the sheets have lost her scent. Bottles in the bathroom keep it safe.

Good morning, love….

I’m dreaming…. Lucid sleeper. Don’t waste it. Don’t waste her.

Morning, baby, he thinks.

His cock stirs. Breeze from the fan. She hates it hot. Hated it hot. Hated sweating in her sleep. He buries himself in the covers and hides from the breeze. He wants to feel her warm, damp back pressed against his chest.

He loves her sweat. Loved her sweat. The way it pooled between her breasts…it made her taste like sex even when they hadn’t fucked. They always fucked. Her sleepy scent always made him want to fuck. He strokes his cock, but feels her instead, her thighs, her ass, so round and sweet he wants to take a bite.

He tucks up against her memory in their lonely, sweaty bed and feels her warm and damp as she seals herself to him. He sighs, nostalgic. He’s completely hard now.

He hears her chuckle as she parts her legs, not much, just enough. She’s so wet he slips against her, cock against cunt, until she tilts her hips. He slides in like a dream, rocking, rocking, rocking in his sleep.

Sigh. Tilt. Wet. Slip. Lazy fucking. Rolling hips. I’m dreaming, he thinks. Such a good dream. He rolls onto his stomach and thrusts against the bed, feeling her beneath him, hot skin and arching hips. He goes deeper, deeper, just the way she likes. I feel you in my heart, she said. He wants to fuck her heart.

Hey, sleepy head….

 Weight on the mattress. Good morning. Good dream. Soft, playful fingers down the backs of his thighs. More weight. Her scent. She kisses his spine…. He feels her legs around him and her breasts against his back. Softness beneath him, softness above. She’s everywhere. She’s home. He tries to open his eyes.

Don’t wake up….

Whisper in his ear. It’s a shiny little sound, a penny full of luck. He reaches back to touch her thigh, solid and sweaty beneath his hand. He hopes she’s there. He hopes she can hear.

No, I won’t wake up.

 

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