I’m drifting on clouds.
Your hand in my hair, your other hand tickling the skin between my thighs, rubbing the familiar juices you find there into the soft skin of my shaved pussy.
I push my belly deeper into the mattress. I don’t want to wake up from this heavenly dream.
A sharp tug on the back of my scalp brings me to instant consciousness. And heightened arousal.
It’s no dream.
I’m flat on my belly in your big wonderful bed and you are kneeling above me, tugging my hair, your fingers playing between my thighs.
“So wet this morning, my pet,” you inform me, leaning down to drop a few kisses along my spine.
I try to nod, but your hand in my hair holds my head tight.
The shivers that run through me are so delicious, traveling from my scalp down my spine and centering in the vee between my legs…as if your hands were not enough stimulation, already.
“Were you dreaming, pet? Is that why you’re so wet?”
I try again to nod, and hear you chuckle.
“Yes Master, “ I say, knowing you want to hear my voice, sleepy and rough, breathless with arousal.
“And what were you dreaming of?” you ask, pushing me further, your hand making a deliberate tug on my clit.
I let out a small moan, then manage to answer.
“You, Master!”
It’s true. And I’m glad you make me tell you. I’m glad you don’t let me hide.
“And was I playing with your sweet ass in this dream, my pet?” You prod me, probably knowing you are wrong but wanting to make me describe it to you.
“No, Master,” I answer truthfully.
No, my pet?” You pause, squeezing one lip of my pussy…hard.
I feel an instant desire to race towards an orgasm, right there, but I know that isn’t going to happen.
After all, you aren’t finished playing with me yet.
“No,” I repeat, confirming what you already know.
Your finger slips inside my warm wet pussy and holds still. I know you can send me over the top easily and quickly. If you want to.
I try to please you, to give you what you want hoping you’ll reward me.
“You were playing with my pussy,” I tell you.
“Yes, I was, my pet,” you agree, moving your whole hand to cup my mound as your finger searches for that sweet spot you find so easily.
I let out a small sound, and you know you’ve hit it. Your hand stills.
I hate this part and I love this part. You bring me to the edge so quickly, and keep me there. As long as you want to.
No one’s ever done this to me. Ever handled me so well, so lovingly. With such wicked delight.
Another sound escapes me. A gasp, or a moan. I can’t hold it back and don’t want to. You earn these helpless sounds I make. They’re yours.
“Good girl,” you say, encouraging me. Letting me know that you know what you’re doing to me, that you enjoy driving me this way.
Your hand tugs my hair again, then slides down my back, your other hand clamps firmly over my mound and stills. Not letting me push for the orgasm I can feel just out of reach.