The morning sun gently caressed his face as he (who he? he the protagonist motherfucker) lay there either blissfully high on the constant puffing of the CBD laced vape, which was going to be his “Brutus dagger” or asleep deep enough to see Adele rolling by, she thought and grinned devilshly at her dry morning quip, takes a while to get the creative juices flowing you know? some like Eric Clapton say a good one hour morning shit session should work, granted he was mostly constipated as a result of years of cocaine abuse (fucker made an entire song about it). She shuffled around on her side of the bed to face him (who she? she the “the armor of Romulus” to his “dagger of Brutus” bitch) and continued pondering this specimen sprawled out in her bed inhaling and exhaling gently enough to not be loud, albeit loud enough to gently tremorize the bed like a tugboat chugging away against wave after wave in a pattern out on a wild and grumpy yet forgivingly consistent ocean, unavoidable white noise but noise nonetheless, you learn to forget it after a while but it suddenly creeps up on you when you least expect it- analogical to tinnitus, a constant torture you learn to live with. She smiled and lifted her glossy black hair and shifted sides, a fact he was aware of as he lay surveying her through tightly pursed lids. Years of care and money toiled on herself had given her a certain gravitas and beauty that she had rightfully earned and boy did she know how to flaunt it, she had curves in all the right places, a glowing and radiant skin, creamy white ,whipped like most men in her life and Schwartz thick wavy hair that was long enough to touch her tail bone, enough to tickle more than just a man’s curiosity. unfortunately, here it was the creature hibernating on her bed that was going to be whipped (literally unlike the others) She thought and chuckled to herself faintly and reached forward slightly pulling the covers off, enough to expose his dick, she’d have wanted to monologue it as his “glorious morning wood” or his “throbbing” member yearning for her but in reality it was a tiny. limp. nubbin. , yes nubbin. , that’s how it is for him usually, poor guy is a grower not a shower, though he didn’t really grow much it was barely five inches at full and high mast with all towers on alert with a curve towards the left leaving the “mast” looking more like a freshly plucked greenish rigid banana (a banana she desperately wanted to cage and lock to lose the key within herself) she shrugged smirking. However, she thought to herself caressing his thigh and looking at his now discreetly growing appendage, feeling each strand of hair running her fingers among them lazily yet attentively like running them through grass (if that made any sense) for a man he was the right amount of hairy not a shrub farm or a sissy, though she absolutely loved him as one she giggled inaudibly ensuring not to wake him, she had plans for the little bitch, anyhoo she figured tiny or not it was still a penis and it granted him entry into the patriarchal hierarchy of this society, she’d think the world and she’d be right as well, and a part of her envied that. skewered was her reasoning sure but none was going to unzip him and check his dick size to make sure he was in his place among “the men”, weirdly enough men do this amongst themselves when young adolescents as a form of some fucked up rites of passage or coming of age bullshit or it could just be the inherent human need to feel better than the other in some way shape or form who fucking knows, come to think of it the entire world and it’s problems could be boil down to (or erected depending how you look at it) endless dick measuring contests, the biggest flex being murica olympenising Hiroshima and Nagasaki in response to puny japanese kamikaze (no not the same as shibari at all super not fun, we checked.) leading to countless japanese soldiers commiting seppuku (also super super not fun,we checked.) in shame and dishonor , this was something she was too feminine and cultured and “ladylike” to comprehend, his “innocence” was never up for scrutiny and that was unfair to her, why was she not allowed to make sure she had the right pick sexually package wise? granted she’s pleased and happy the way things are but that mostly attributes to biology she reasoned and the science of attraction and though most would think growing up with a brother should have given her the required know how to deal with men in general, that was a whole another can of worms she did not want to open right now she concluded with her subconscious as she looked away gazing into the little crack in her closet (metaphorically and literally in her case).
He shifted his gaze slightly to her breathing tummy and noticed the rhythmicity in it in correlation to her thoughts and knew she was swimming deep and this wasn’t just surface level, how? well it was simple he just loved her enough to know her, he had actually cared, effortlessly. Fine, realistically the correlation was between her rhythmic breathing, her steely gaze into nothing and her lightly nibbling on her lower lip all telltale signs to him that this was something either dead serious or she just hasn’t eaten anything yet.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/s20nzi/m_30f30the_morning_sun_gently_caressed_his_face