This morning was one of those amazing bits of sexual fun people can have when they are truly in love and know each other extremely well.
Since Christmas, I’ve regularly being holding Zebedee (Peter’s penis), when he awakes and it has led to many joyful wake-up sex events. Also, he doesn’t need sildenafil first thing, usually, so it’s better for his health, too.
Anyway, today he was really sleepy and I simply continued to squeeze and knead his erection and eased myself onto his body, enjoying the wonderful sensation of him slipping easily inside. I sort of had one leg down the outside of his right leg, the other on top of his left leg and my torso lying mainly on his right side. One of my arms was caressing his cheek and the other was sort-of supporting me against his arm, trapping it to his side. His left arm came around my waist and his hand was lying square in the middle of the small of my back.
Literally I wasn’t really doing anything, gently rocking to and fro and enjoying the pressure against my vulva, the rubbing of my clitoris against his pubic bone and the joyful movement of Zebedee back and forth inside me, but not much. I want to make that clear, it was only moving, maybe an inch (2cm). Certainly less than the couple in the image below. I wasn’t making any effort to make him come. I was doing no more than enjoying the togetherness.
Our lips came together and we kissed while I continued my tiny motions. The kiss grew to become one of those warm, open-mouthed naïve kisses which used to be such fun when dating, before all the sex things got in the way of its simplicity.
After a while I stilled my motions, but continued the kiss. Our lips were tenderly pressing and moving over each other’s, but apart from that we were almost completely still, locked together in a wondrous circle of love. An extraordinary experience of mutual joy and sexual sensation.
It is strange when it happens, but this was one of those occasions when an orgasm crept up upon me unexpectedly. One moment I was simply full of love for him, soaking up the fact of his penetration, absorbing the beauty of the kiss when, pow, a short powerful climax hit me. Five or six gorgeous contractions, the type which make your toes curl, your fingers tighten and you stop breathing until it passes, leaving you hot, breathless and somewhat perplexed as to how it had actually occurred and wondering why you can’t do it to order.
Through my dreamlike state I heard him ask, “Was that what it felt like?”
“Mmmh,” well, how else could I reply.
He freed his other arm from under me and both hands gripped my bum, pulling my buttocks down upon him. The warmth of our bodily connection was special. Really special. I turned my head sideways and rested on his shoulder, looking towards the curtains and door, analysing the experience and wondering why orgasms couldn’t be commanded on a whim, if they could sometimes happen so easily and unexpectedly. I can remember only a few other occasions, always with me on top. It seems it is the filling of my vagina in that position and my holding his penis tight within, sometimes consciously squeezing him – not hard, but with the pressure and movement of no more than breathing. The incredible filling sensation begins to morph from being a wonderful internal warmth into an irresistible glowing fire. Why it should go on to trigger an orgasm I have no idea, but it was lovely for both of us.
After twenty or thirty minutes, still joined in body and me basking in my postcoital warmth, he finally turned me over and fucked me tenderly to a second O for me, a few seconds before he fulfilled his own needs.
Now that is what I call ‘lovely wake-up sex’.
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