After a Sunday evening of sex, going out for pizza, and watching the new episode of The Walking Dead, Jake and I have just curled up in bed. Grateful for the soothing feeling of finally being completely still, my tired muscles begin to loosen and settle. I feel Jake shift towards me, and although sleep is beckoning, I open my eyes a little to find him giving me a lustful look. His right arm is beneath the comforter, and I move it to the side, revealing his hand on his erect cock.
At first I think he’s going to reach for me, to try to turn me on and awaken me fully for more sex, and I can’t help but think about how I have to be up in exactly 8 hours.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he simply smiles and says, “Babe, can I jack off while I look at your pussy?”
The calm of his voice, the mixture of affection and arousal on his face, and his simple request sends warmth between my legs, and I feel blood begin to pulse in the part of me he desires.
“Sure baby,” I say, as I shift the covers and open my legs, pulling my panties aside.
“Mmm,” he groans softly as he strokes himself, “it’s so pretty.”
I scoot my ass closer to him, and pull up my t-shirt, gently caressing my breasts. I love watching him touch himself, I love the intimacy of seeing how he plays when I’m not around. Now that I’m closer he reaches out with his free hand, and gently opens my lips a little, feeling around my bush.
“I love how hairy it is. I love everything about it,” he says.
By now my clit is more awake than the rest of me and longs for touch, and I lick a finger and gently attend to it. Jake’s still moving steadily, exploring, but in a way that implies he doesn’t need me to do anything besides lie there for him to admire. For a moment he stops touching himself, and places his face between my legs, giving me a single, long, slow lick before moving back to his original position.
He continues to gaze at my pussy as he strokes himself, and his enthralled expression makes me warm and wet, my fingers gliding easily. I can see and feel him adoring my cunt, even though he’s no longer touching me. I near the edge of an orgasm, and I can sense that he is as well by his increasing speed and intensity.
“I want you to come on me,” I say, moving towards him.
“Where?” he asks.
My first instincts make me say, “On my nipple,” since it’s closest to him, and the perked pink seems like the perfect place. But as we near our climaxes together, I change my mind.
I want more than his warmth on my skin, I want to taste him, to feel our connection.
“No, in my mouth,” I gasp as my legs tighten with my blossoming pleasure and moans seep from my lips. He moves over me.
“Now,” he says.
Just as he begins to flow, I cup his head between my warm lips, shuddering with the last moments of my own ecstasy, sucking him gently as he groans and his thrusts slow to a stop. I release him from my mouth’s grip, and he squeezes out one last bit.
I lick it off and smile up at him. We kiss and mutter words about how hot it was, and say goodnight.
And as I gently slip back into the cocoon of sleep, I savor the lasting taste of him.