I write many of my stories in a format that loosely resembles a script ...as if I'm writing a scene for My Girl (the sub in many of my stories) to follow.
I awake. I'm on my right side, spooning you. My right arm is under your neck, my left arm tucked under your left breast and my left hand is cupping your right tit. My cock is hard and throbbing. It's wedged in its sweaty nest between your soft, naked ass cheeks. I grab my cock and push the swollen tip down the length of your moist ass crack, pausing briefly at your puckered asshole for a gentle nudge, then continuing down until my cock springs upward again and nestles between your pussy lips, pushing them apart. You moan and wake up.
"What time is it?" you mumble, sleepy-headed.
"It's 6. I like waking up at the crack of dawn."
You reach down to grab my cock and move it around to pleasure yourself. "I'm not Dawn, the woman whose crack you think you've woken up to," you joke.
"No, but let's invite this Dawn for a threesome."
You laugh, and then cough weakly. "I think I'm coming down with a cold," you say. "Maybe I'll stay home from work today."
It's Friday the 13
th
. You're into horror stories. I figure you want to play hooky from work, lie in bed all day with your favorite horror stories or movies, plus maybe check out Fetlife and masturbate most of the day. Sounds like a great plan. I wish I could join you...
"You look and sound OK to me," I say.
You cough twice, weakly—such bad acting that would fool no one. I play along. "OK, sweetie. You take care of yourself. I'll be home from work at 6". (Actually, I plan to be home at 4, with a big surprise—but you don't know that yet.) Even though you're 'sick', I give you a long passionate, tongue-probing kiss—10 seconds.
I grab a quick shower. I don't bother to shave. I put on my dress shirt (untucked), jeans, loafers and head to work.
At noon I call to see how you're doing. You attempt to sound sick... more bad acting from you. I give you wishes to 'feel better soon.' Then hang up. I can
guarantee
you're going to feel much much better really soon.
1:43 PM. I call again. (I've confirmed I'll be ready to finish my work early and be home by 4 - my secret plan—and the reason I got to work two hours early today, foregoing fucking your brains out before work this morning I'll fuck your brains out —and much more—when I get home...
"How's my little patient?" I ask sweetly.
"Still wiped," you reply. (I figure the only thing
wiped
is your clit and pussy lips—repeatedly with your fingers.)
"I'm still aiming to be home by 6, but might be a bit delayed," I fib. "I got you a present. Look under the bed."
"A present?" You perk up.