It started innocently enough. One lazy Sunday afternoon, I lay in bed on my stomach, reading. I could hear you puttering around downstairs, organizing the house for the week ahead. Eventually I heard your heavy footsteps ascending the stairs, and the bedroom door creaked open.
Wordlessly, you climbed on top of me, positioning yourself so your pelvis pressed against my ass, and started teasingly kissing the back and sides of my neck. This wasn’t uncommon behavior for you, and didn’t necessarily always lead to more, but this time I could feel the urgency in your touch, in the heat of your breath and the in hardness I felt against my backside.
“Excuse me, I was a little busy over here,” I said playfully.
“Oh? Do you want me to stop?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Good, because I don’t plan to.”
You continued kissing my neck, knowing how much it turns me on. Soft moans escaped my lips as desire built up inside my panties. God, even the simplest things you did to me could make me so wet.
I tried to turn around and face you, but you kept one hand firmly around my neck to prevent me from doing so.
“No. You stay right there,” you said through heavy breaths. I could tell that my squirming underneath you was teasing you as much as it was teasing me, and your self-control was the only thing stopping you from taking things further.
Suddenly, you grabbed my hips with both hands and aggressively pulled back to bring me into an all-fours position. You eased my shirt off with one hand to expose my breasts, my nipples hard with anticipation. Taking one breast in each hand, you rolled and pinched each nipple between your fingers, knowing how much I liked this. You continued kissing the nape of my neck, down in between my shoulder blades. I moaned unabashedly, desperate to have you inside me.
“Please,” I begged. “Please fuck me.”
Given your dom tendencies, I knew this type of request had the potential to make things worse for me. Today, however, you didn’t seem interested in punishment — only pleasure, as long as it was on your terms.
You quickly pulled my sweatpants and panties down, spreading my knees wide. Finally you pushed yourself inside me, filling me up with that perfect glass-slipper cock I had been craving.
“Oh God, yes,” I gasped.
“Yeah?” You said between ragged breaths, continuing to slide in and out of me. Despite not being able to see your face, I knew your expression was drawn into that lopsided smirk you got when your brain was in purple-horns-emoji mode. “Is this better than that book?”
“Eh,” I said, giving you a hard time. “I *was* really enjoying that book.”
“I see,” you replied. With that, you pushed firmly on my back, pressing my upper body into the bed and pinning my arms behind my back with one hand. You had all the power in this position, and you relished it.
With the other hand, you reached around and started circling my clit with two fingers, using my own wetness as lube. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. It was as if all the puzzle pieces fit together in exactly the right way — the intense pleasure from your fingers on my clit, the teasing sensation of my nipples against the bedsheets, the consistent rhythm of your cock pulsing inside me.
I groaned primally as I came, hard, wave after wave of pleasure radiating through my body as my legs shook and failed to support me. Anticipating this, you pressed me deeper onto your cock, supporting my hips with your arms as your thrusts became faster. Seeing my pleasure, my body’s response to your masterful touch, was enough to bring you over the edge as well, and you gasped as you emptied your cock inside me, slamming into me over and over.
Finally, we both collapsed in a sweaty, intertwined heap, drunk on oxytocin. You rolled away to lay next to me, allowing me to see your face for the first time since you entered the room. Your hair was disheveled, stray curls falling across your forehead, the corners of your mouth curled into that familiar smirk.
“So,” you said, one finger tracing the curves of my back as I lay in a puddle on the bed, hoping I’d regain the use of my limbs soon. “Was that better than the book?”
“Mmm,” I replied coyly. “We should probably keep trying.”
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/rn3gk1/lazy_sunday_mf
Wow… that was incredibly hot! So well written that it felt like that was actually me in the story!