Using Him After The Party [MF] [Consensual] [sleep] [one night stand]

Becca roused slowly, consciousness washing over her body like an incoming tide. She opened one eye, but the room was so dark it may as well have been closed. Though the room had no curtains, its tiny window allowed in only a modest glow from the moon, the room a collection of silhouettes.

She could tell that she was lying on her side, on a carpeted floor From the breathing and snoring sounds, there were at least five other people in the room.

As Becca’s senses awakened, she realised she was curled up in the ‘little spoon’ position, someone taller providing a body for her to lean against, her head leaning into the crook of his arm, the two of them kept warm by a single quilt.

She tried to remember the end of the night.

Manisha’s birthday parties were always raucous affairs. People came and went night but a hard core always committed to the bitter end and slept wherever they fell.

Becca had spent much of the night talking to Robbie, a guy she’d started flirting with in order to get some weed, but whose charisma had kept her interested, drinking and smoking with him for so long she’d wound up completely wasted.

Robbie was just shy of six feet tall, thick-built, and had a completely shaved head – his way, he’d explained, of taking ownership of premature male pattern baldness. It suited him – drawing attention to his mahogany eyes and complementing the short, neat beard he’d grown “To offset it”.

Over the evening, Becca and Robbie had developed a very specific dynamic: She reminded him of people’s names every time he forgot (which was often); he made sure there was always a joint on the go. The arrangement worked, until Robbie realised Becca had reached her limit.

“Let’s get you upstairs,” he said, taking Becca’s arm and putting it over his broad shoulders. Coming from anyone else it might have seemed like a line, but Robbie could see she wasn’t steady on her feet and the narrow, Dutch-style spiral staircase through Manisha’s house was notoriously lethal.

Becca was in a state. Clinging on to Robbie as he helped her upstairs, she staggered into the guest room.

Robbie helped her navigate the passed out bodies, finding a space in the corner of the room which he’d reserved earlier with his belongings and the warm, wide quilt he’d brought.

Despite her inebriation, Becca was still a sight to behold; her mid-length auburn hair somehow in impeccable condition, her petite but curvy body not so much being complimented but outrageously hit on by her black cocktail dress. He caught himself loitering just a little too long on her breasts – full by any measure but particularly prominent in this outfit, before regaining his composure and looking her back in the eye.

“Do you want something warmer to sleep in?” Becca nodded. He produced a baggy t-shirt from his bag, gave it to her and turned around, shielding her from both the room and his own eyes. She slipped out the dress and pulled on the t-shirt. A medium on Robbie, a minidress on Becca. Unhooking her bra and savouring the release, the soft cotton of the t-shirt on her nipples.

Robbie made sure she was lying on her side, and pulled the duvet over her.

“It’s cold – will you join me?” She asked, hoping equally for the feeling of safety, and the warmth of his body.

Oh. The final memory, the drunkest one and lagging behind the others, returned. Robbie joining her under the duvet for warmth as she’d asked. Her disingenuously complaining about the way his jeans felt on her bare legs. Robbie compliantly sliding off his jeans, putting his arm back around her. Becca gently starting to grind her self against him. A hand softly on her arm.

“I don’t want you doing anything you won’t remember tomorrow” he’d whispered, palpable disappointment in his voice. But he’d been right – she must have passed out almost immediately after that.

As Becca came fully too, imagining what might have been if she’d ignored Robbie’s chivalrous response. And then came another sensation – she quietly gasped as she realised she was wet, the button between her legs begging her to touch herself. “Not here,” she thought. But where?

Under the quilt, she slid her hands between her legs, balling it up into a fist and pushing it against her clit. Maybe if she was subtle. She started to grind against herself, as slowly as possible, her hips moving against the still-sleeping Robbie.

After perhaps a minute, Becca felt a gradual movement against the back of her leg. She froze, realising that she’d probably let her impulses get the better of her. But Robbie remained still, pressed into her. She gave her hips another roll, and realised that what she could feel was his cock, responding to her movement.

She started grinding again, this time pushing back onto the erection she could feel pushing into her from behind. A slight slide and it was between her legs, as she felt the swelling head through their underwear.

Robbie awoke with a start, registered first the darkness, and very quickly his now fully-hard dick. Instinctively he tried to pull away, embarrassed, but Becca reached between her legs and put her hand on the underside of his shaft, guiding it back and forth as she stroked herself with him.

He brought his hands to Becca’s hips, feeling them move against him, and slid them inside the shirt. Running his fingertips up her back as he reached round and cupped her breasts, her nipples already hard. He stroked them in time with her thrusts, being entirely for her pleasure.

He felt her hand on his right hand, pulling it down her body and onto her leg. Onto her thigh, her ass. Pushing his fingers under her panties.

He felt the smooth skin of her ass, still thrusting, as she pushed his hand between her legs. She was so wet his fingers slid under her pussy lips, finding her clit as she pushed against him.

Becca was lost in pleasure now. She pulled away from Robbie a little so he could stroke her, focussing on her fingertips working her clit. But she wanted more. Her hand found the waistband of his boxers, and she pulled them impatiently.

Robbie shift himself so he could slide down his boxers while continuing to stroke Becca’s pussy, so wet now that two finger slid inside her. She muffled her moan of pleasure against the quilt, and grabbed Robbie’s hand. Enough fingers.

In the pitch black, their feelings seemed heightened. Robbie felt Becca’s pussy push back onto his cock, opening for him, slowly taking him inside her. He slid himself out of her until only the ridge of his cock was resting against her pussy lips, and pushed her away as she hungrily tried to get him back. First, she felt the ridge slip inside, then out again. Then again, a little deeper. She gasped, pushing back agains his whole body until – with self-control even her couldn’t believe, he let himself slide out of her completely.

Becca cried out, and reached a hand between her legs, but then she felt Robbie’s entire length fill her up. She moved to stroke her clit in time with his stroke, but Robbie beat her to that too. All she could do was surrender to the pleasure shooting through her body. She bucked against him, moving his hand from her clit and focussing on his cock, slamming into her g-spot.

She felt Robbie grow inside her, his cock throbbing as it drove into her one last time. She felt his cum fill her up, the wet warmth setting her off – the orgasm took her by surprise, starting inside and spreading out to her clit. Her whole body convulsed, and Robbie felt her muscles squeezing the cum out of him as she came in waves, gasping and biting the quilt to silence herself.

They lay together, breathing deeply. Becca could feel Robbie’s cum escaping, coating her pussy and her clit. They started to spoon again, and Becca fell asleep, still feeling him inside her.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/10op0vy/using_him_after_the_party_mf_consensual_sleep_one