A Nightcap

Long-time reader, first-time erotica writer. I hope you enjoy this brief encounter (in which everyone is, of course, over 18). Feel free to hit me with constructive feedback, or just let me know you had a great time.

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We're snuggling, dozing off after an episode of Star Trek in bed. What could be better? I'm wearing just an old, oversized t-shirt and he's in underpants. He and I are still new to each other, halfway between thrill and comfort. Frankly, it's not long since the last time we fucked — earlier that evening, half-way through bothering with dinner, when he lifted me up onto the kitchen bench and buried his face between my legs, pressing my knees apart. I left a sticky handprint on the cover of a Jamie Oliver cookbook and, after that, couldn't be bothered with knickers.

Sleep seems close, but we're distractible. A hand edges under my shirt and brushes the underside of my breast. This is always enough for me; I shuffle to move myself towards his fingers. He pushes the shirt up and kisses my nipples, running his rough tongue over the buds. I press my nails into his shoulder blade.

Clothes come off, and he's doing that thing I love when we're sleepily kissing: he shifts his weight onto me, moves his body straight between my legs, using his hips to jostle my thighs apart. I'm already cosy and receptive, so when he strokes his cock over my clit, dragging the head between labia, I moan. There are times when you want to take infinities with foreplay: fingers softly across thighs, tongue teasing glans, infinite long strokes. Like I said, we've already fucked once today, and took our time about it; he made me beg, describe what I wanted in tingling, nervous detail. I wanted it long and rough, to be spanked, to be taken by Daddy's thick cock — and in the end he fucked me doggy-style with his palm on my clit till his head bruised my cervix and I came, tight around him.

Now, we lack wits. This is less a time for thought-out roleplay and more a time to melt, lazily, into one another. The entrance to my cunt feels pleasantly achy and stretched. With each stroke, he opens me up a little further. I love the friction and the weight of his cock when he does this, parting muscle inside me. We've both neglected to grab a condom, and neither of us says anything. The shape of his cock feels distinct, head ridged and swollen.

Finally I can feel the naked head press all the way in — more gently, this time, than earlier today. I wrap my legs around his hips, tilting him into me. His breath warms my throat. I touch his face and he presses my hands back into the pillow. He nips my jaw, tugs on my lip with his teeth. It never takes me long this way. I murmur a series of yesses, and he groans into my mouth, kissing me. His pubic bone presses into my clit. We're so wet with sweat and juices.

"Let's feel you come for me," he murmurs, and that's enough to knock me over into warm, pulsating pressure that starts at my clit and bursts in waves through my body. There are only so many ways to describe an orgasm. But here, newly stretched open so soon after our last round, my cunt clamps down on his firm cock. All thought vanishes in a dark flash from my head. Inside me, his head rocks against sensitive nerves indirectly; electricity roils through my clit until I can take no more and reluctantly become still.

Through my climax I could feel him thickening up and throbbing. Now, he rolls me onto my side and spoons me, pressing his cock back into my slit from behind. In this position, I'm so tight that it's an effort for him to squeeze himself all the way in.

"Is that okay?" he asks.

"Mm." I know: I'm so eloquent right now.

He groans into my neck, kisses me, places an arm firmly under my breasts to hold me close, and begins thrusting deep and hard. Post-orgasm, I'm all subdued sensation — a cloud of vibrating atoms. He gasps and I suddenly remember that he's naked and slick inside me. So much of my body wishes he would fill me up, and he knows it — but pulls out, just in time to shoot warm cum over my back, hips and (inevitably) the sheets. I lie there in a hazy, contended mess.

"That was naughty," I say, gesturing to the unopened box of condoms beside the bed.

"Compromise," he says. We reach for the tissues and laugh, and then (finally) sleep.