Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
His naked body is baking hot when he presses against my back, and I snuggle against him, as though it’s nothing more than natural movement. Heat towards heat. I show just a hint of fake stirring, before my breaths are back under control. Long and slow. Long and slow.
User 1222’s warmth is beautiful and welcome as he spoons me, dwarfing me with the size of him. Bliss.
That’s all User 1222 does at first – spoons me in silence. Our breaths are in sync, and the strong bulk of him relaxes me as the fear fades away. My heartrate slows and my consciousness zones out. The dreamy half state is divine. Such a spike of contrasts, blurring.
Exhaustion, horniness, nerves, comfort. Contact.
User 1222 hooks his knees under mine when I’m truly zoned out, and I shuffle further back into him. I feel the unmistakable rod of his cock, hard against my ass, and damn. It’s as bulky as the rest of him.
Lucky me.
My pussy lights up. My breaths shorten, but I don’t snap back to the realms of wide awake. The darkness is soothing, and so is he. His arm is so inviting when he wraps it around me, but I don’t let myself roll into him. I grip my pillow and stay in slumberland, giving him full access to my tits.
I’m glad I’m so weary, because my moan is barely audible as he catches my nipples and twists them gently. The hitch of my legs is authentic, nothing more than instinct as I grind my ass against him. My breaths are still slow and steady, but his aren’t when his mouth lands on my shoulder, lips grazing.
He wants his sleeping beauty.
The willing flower on offer must be such a temptation…
I’m horny and ready for it when his hand finally slides down and urges its way between my thighs. I roll ever so slightly towards him, my breaths still full of slumber, and I let him guide my legs open.
I let out a murmur as his fingers find my slit, my thighs hot and clammy as I part them.
Shh, he whispers, growly but soothing. Relax… he says, and I yawn and shuffle, sinking back into fake dreamland as he teases me.
I want his fingers inside me. My pussy needs the invasion. I’m craving cock, and he has it there, like a gift just out of reach. It would be so easy to break character and roll into him like a wanton whore. It takes every scrap of restraint to focus on heady half-sleep and dark ambience, and not on begging for cock like the slut I am.
He knows I’m stirring, he can feel it.
Shh, he whispers again, easing his fingers inside my slit. Fuck, yes. It’s too good.
I tense up so much, I could curse myself.
Rockabye baby, on the treetop, he whispers, and it’s so fucking thrilling in its soothing filth that my skin prickles.
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock…
He finds my clit, sweeping back and forth, and I murmur.
When the bow breaks, the cradle will fall…
His cock is big. He grinds it against me, and I feel the tension of his restraint.
And down will come baby, cradle and all…
He coaxes my leg further back, up and over his, and hitches himself forward. I snuggle down into the mattress, and hold my pillow tight, feigning exhaustion as the head of his cock lines up against me.
He moves his hips so slowly it’s a sin, guiding his cock with such self-control that I can’t help but whimper. He’s pushing in, but it’s a strained torture, my pussy is that fucking desperate to consume him.
It takes everything I have to stay still. I don’t move, don’t coax, don’t do anything but breathe deeply and offer instinctive movements as he inches his way inside.
The girth and bulk filling up my pussy is a light in the slutty darkness. My sleepy, dazed murmurs are real. Fuck, I’ve needed this. I’ve needed this so bad.
His hips are a slow, deep piston. He times his rhythm with my breathing, his arm wrapping around my waist to hold me steady.
It’s insanely intimate. So up close and personal, in the softness of a bed like this with nothing more than a stranger. I’m heady in his arms. Vulnerable but soothed as he begins to speed up.
I fight the urge to move, to grip, to tense my muscles. I don’t do a thing other than offer gentle murmurs and the slightest rock of my hips. I’m his sleeping beauty, held in his grip in the night.
Whenever his thrusting becomes so intense that it jiggles me about and rocks the bed, he calms down. He slows and soothes.
Rockabye baby…
Every round of the carousel blurs the lines, and I’m fighting my own passion to keep the illusion in place.
It only makes the game more exciting.