The art o[f] [m]orning sex

(Context: this is a direct transcription of a journal entry I wrote a few months ago about I guy I would see on and off through my travels)

This one’s a little different. For whatever reason, a single glass of wine and 10 seconds of an RKS song has me completely caught up in the memory of that morning in the Air Bnb with Oliver. Every little detail, every single feeling. From how tight he held me all night, to the way his voice sounded in the morning when I crawled back into bed after checking the time.

“We’ll just spoon for a bit then get up,” he told me, pulling me back into his arms.

We were both breathing deeply as he gently rubbed my thigh, starting slowly and gently on the side before sliding to the front and working his way higher until his hand was between my legs. I started to slowly grind my ass against him as he started to tease me over my shorts. I craned my neck around until I could see him out of the corner of my eye. He leaned in and kissed me just as he slipped his hand past my waistband. I couldn’t help but soak it all in. The way his lips were soft against mine, the sound of the sheets rusting as we moved with each other, the feeling of his fingers circling my clit. I finally rolled over, taking my shorts off and climbing on top of him. We were silent. All I needed were the sounds of his hands running across my naked skin and the occasional breath that bordered a moan. I reached down and grabbed his thick cock, lining it up with my dripping slit. He’s the biggest dick I’ve taken girth wise by a long shot, sometimes it was even a struggle. Naturally I was sore from our multiple rounds of intense fucking from the night before. Nevertheless, it still felt incredible when I sank down onto him. It’s one of my favourite feelings on this planet, that first moment of feeling full. Almost as amazing were the sounds coming from his mouth. I slowly started to slide my hips back and forth, still pretty tired from the lack of sleep. I pulled my shirt over my head and his hands gently cupped my breasts.

Normally I prefer really intense, rough sex, which in all fairness we did plenty of the night before, but there was something about the slow sleepy sex, being so wet the sound of us fucking cut through the silence of the morning, that just did it for me. He gently pushed me off of him and laid me on my side, sliding into me from behind. It was still steady and dozy, but I could feel the urgency growing. His arm found its way under mine and his hand wrapped around my throat as he started to thrust into me faster. It was amazing. The way I felt so full. I had never experienced anything like it until I fucked Oliver.

He told me to get on my stomach, so I did. At first I lifted my ass in the air for him, but he placed a hand on either side of my lower back and pushed me down, holding me there firmly. He easily slid back inside of me, but I was still tight around his shaft. One hand left my back and grabbed the base of my head by my hair, pulling my head back. The sleepiness had completely worn off. The fire inside of me was bright and alive. Our moans began to fill the room, along with the sound of my pussy getting fucked, because that’s just how wet I get when I’m with him. He kept fucking me harder and faster until I heard those words that get me every. Single. Time.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

I begged him to keep going, to cum for me. With a final groan he pulled out and shot his load all over my ass. Long, hot ropes painting my skin. He flopped down beside me and with a soft laugh between breaths said, “good morning.”

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/iikxh4/the_art_of_morning_sex