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Morning Sex

When there's all the time in the world....
A moan sounds in the quiet of the early morning. Rough hands move over sensitive skin, teasing a sleepy mind. Trim hips move forward, as rounded hips move back. Two bodies coming together in a sleep-hazed passion. Bodies finding a lazy rhythm. Mussed hair obscured vision as warm, firm lips rasp the side of a throat. There's no rush, just a lazy dance of two bodies finding passion in the early hours before alarms cause rushing scurries to hurried kisses and jobs waiting.

Breaths become heavier. Hearts beat a little faster. Sweat starts to glisten on tightly clasped bodies. Her hands caress every inch of hair-roughened skin she can reach. His hands stroke over silky bed warmed skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake. A full, curved body is gently turned, breasts flatten to the sheet beneath her, nipples sliding along soft cotton with each deep inhalation.

Those torturous lips burn a path down her spine as big hands rest beside her hips. Kisses danced lower from nape to the hollow at the small of her back. On the return trip of his perfect lips, her heart skips a beat and stumbles over itself in her chest. His hair roughened chest moves over the curves of her ass, the arch of her back and higher until his upper body is completely flush her to her back.

Whispers, words of passion, things that made her body heat and move restlessly beneath him. Hands move above her head, curling around the edge of the mattress and holding on tight. Still there was no hurry, just slow, gentle grinds of his hips. Rough grazes of lips surrounded by morning stubble. This was morning sex. The moments that were rare, but when they happen they could make her heart speed up at odd times during the day.

The faint scent of his soap from his late night shower fills her senses. As does the warmth of him, the weight. Knees slip between hers and part her thighs. She tries to lift, to move to her knees, but he whispers for her to remain still. The folds of her pussy already wet, waiting for his possession, she’s ready and still he doesn’t move to slide deep within her.

His hands smooth over her curves, tracing them in the slowly dawning light, shadows dancing against the wall. The silhouette of their forms playing out on the wall. She watches this. Watches her man, even as she feels him readying to take her. A moan sounds, and her hips rise only a few inches, but enough for him to slip his searching hand beneath her and between her thighs. His groan is a reverberation of sound against her ear.

Fingers skip over her folds, pushing between to find the tight, aching bud of her clit. A shiver dances along her spine. With his touch her hips arch up and the broad, flared head of his cock prods against her opening. A shuddering breath escapes on a ragged sigh as he slides slowly inside. Seating him deep with one long easy drive, flesh moving over wet velvet muscles. They ripple around him in delight of his possession.

Everything happens in slow motion. The surging of hips, the circle of calloused fingertips and the graze of lips. Her head moves impatiently as does her hips. He pulls back each time, calming her bringing her back from the edge, before pushing her quickly back to the heights. Short nails claw at sheets, savoring the stretch, the glide, the perfection of it all.

Words seem to be merely murmurs at a distance. Sensual promises of the things to come, of times when passion would have no bounds, but for now there was no limits, no rush towards the release of their passions. Large hands cover hers, lacing broad fingers with her slender ones as he rocks, slides his body up and down hers.

Cock driving deep, two sets of thighs quiver, lips fall slack with inhalations of breaths turned panting moans. Forms heat, hearts pound, passion overtakes the need to appreciate the moment. Movements are quickened, but still languid as they strive towards release. Firm lips land on soft ones, tongues plunge to meet, moving together stroking as their bodies take control.

Hips thrust down and upward as they meet, forcing each other closer. Bodies tighten, muscles tremble and without warning, without thought they shatter, coming together in a chaotic meeting of moans, wetness, of tightly clasping arms and legs tangling. Long sighs escape in unison as they fall down from the pinnacles to collapse on damp sheets in the faint light of dawn. This is the reason to sleep and to wake, this was what mornings were for, for the morning sex. 

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