His Hard Cock: There’s Nothing Better In The Morning

Opening my eyes to let a crack of the low morning sun burn at the back of them, as I’m lying on my side, I rub my thighs together and throw one of my legs over his. Instincts always kick in when I find myself waking up next to him. My fingerprints graze the thatch of wiry hairs pressed against his belly. The tip of my middle finger, I use it to sneak to the edge of the valley of his belly button.

His breathing becomes audible just once. I know he’s awakening too.

As I touch him faster along the invisible line made by the creek of water that washes over him every time he bathes, his legs stir under mine. I think about wetting my fingertips with my spit, but my trip down to where I so hungrily rush to touch isn’t long enough to break the trance of pleasure I know I’m seducing him into.

The head is coming up in a few millimeters.

My fingers finally touch down. Over the open seam I make my fingers as soft as gentle cotton using my mind’s morphing power I know I must truly have, because he sighs a sleepy, sexy groan.

As I tiptoe my fingers down the hill of the back of his cock, I know it’s smooth, moist traveling then on. He’s getting wet already and I have yet to apply my soft, thick, inner mouth’s lips on him.

I open for a kiss, then a trembling lick.

Oh, how I love his hard cock in the morning.

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