An Erotic Morning Breeding

You awake in bed to the smell of freshly brewed coffee alongside bacon and--is that potatoes? The faint tendrils of consciousness still creep their way into your mind. You roll over onto your back and open your eyes. You wish he were here holding you like he did last night. Your pussy warms and throbs just thinking about him--

Him--Grayson, shit, where did he go? You bolt upright and look around as a kind of frenzied panic jolts you. The sheets are pulled away from where he used to be lying. There's a sizzling sound in the distance. In the dim light of the room, you peer out through the doorway. It's undeniable. A high pitched crackling.

"Grayson? Are you..." you say, pulling off the sheets. The breeze that affronts you is cold and clammy against your skin, and all you want is to sink right back into that cocoon of the comforter, but...

(he didn't leave, did he? I'm not all alone, am I? oh god, oh god, did he?)

You get up and walk into the kitchen, shivering.

"Hey, babe, you're finally up?" he says, laughing, back still turned to you, tending to the stove, "Thought it'd be at least another half hour."

Relief washes over you. He just keeps standing there, tending to the pan.

"You're... making breakfast?," you say, melting. Something made you think he'd have left. Something about it was too good to be true, for sure. But no, you were wrong. You were always wrong. He really does love you? Maybe? Just maybe?

You saunter up to him, sliding your arms around his waist and clutching his body from behind. You nestle your chin over his shoulder and hold him close. The heat of your bodies compiles and grows and gives you an immense sense of comfort and grounding in the moment.

"That's so sweet of you..." you coo into his ear, clutching even tighter, flexing your calves to get up and peck him on the cheek. You just want to be close with him. He's taller than you, larger, more powerful, and the whole masculine, commanding energy of his presence is something you can never resist. You just want to feel it, bathe in it, be commanded by it, allow yourself to let go and submit and be led and swim freely in the safety of his embrace--

"Of course," he says, tossing the pan in a sautée motion, seemingly fixated on the task. "I wanted today to be special, you know? I, uh..." he clears his throat and adjusts his posture. You can feel the trepidatious shift from him, it's uncharacteristic, and something about it makes you want to nurture and comfort him even more, "Anyways, there's coffee in the pot and pastries on the table."

Your bones melt to jelly. You weren't wrong. He really does care about you. He continues to toss the food, not looking back at you, as if that were some kind of cover for the obvious stutter. But you don't care. You can't help smiling, it's glued to your face as you kiss him again on the cheek.

Is this what heaven looks like? The two of you like this? He'd be a good father.

(have his baby)

"I love it. Thanks, babe."

You're glowing as you walk over to the coffee pot and pour a ceramic mug to the brim. The scents in the air provoke the hunger that's been building in you ever since last night when you pretended you weren't that hungry and only barely nibbled your dinner. But it's okay, he's shown his true colors. You can be yourself. He's the one, and you know it. He'll know it soon enough, too, even if he can't see it right now. You'll make him see it. You belong together, now and forever.

You check your phone on the table. Panic slaps you in the face.

"SHIT."

"What?"

"My boss moved up the meeting an hour."

When you finally look up at Grayson, he's just standing there silently, pan of hash browns and bacon hanging in his hand mid-stir. His eyes are glued to your chest. You look down and see your nipples are erect, pointing sharply out of the sheer silver silk cami in the cold. Then he looks down at your legs, mostly bare as the only other thing you have on is a black lace thong, still caked with the dry residue of his seed from last night's wild episode. He approaches the table and pours out the food onto two plates, but you turn away.

"I have to leave right now, fuck, I'm sorry babe, I don't even have time for breakfast, this was really sweet of you, and I'm so sorry, that's cute that you did this, and I really want to be here with you, but shit, shit, SHIT," you ramble as you scroll through the 23 unread messages and 4 missed calls, making your way back to the bedroom. The dread rises in your gut. God, your boss is such a pain in the ass.

You rush off to the bathroom, strip down, and get into the shower. The hot water is nice, comforting, relaxing. You know you have to leave soon for work, but now your mind begins to drift, it's just so...

Then the door opens. Grayson comes in. He looks you up and down, a glint in his eyes as they take in your nude body, and you can see his cock start to raise up a tent in his boxer shorts. He takes off his shirt, slowly, deliberately, without a word. Then he pulls off the boxers.

You look away, reverting to spreading the soap around yourself again. You want him. But you don't have time for this. If you look at him, you'll give in.

(but you want him, god you want him)

He slides the glass door to the side, looking at you with what can only be described as devilish, lustful intent. You already know exactly what is about to happen.

He slides the shower door closed behind his back, attention still on you, peering deeply into you. He reaches for your hips and pulls you close. When your lips touch, it sends shockwaves down your spine. That hard, thick cock presses between you. God you want it inside you, fuck work timelines. You grab the back of his neck with one hand and reach down for it with the other. The kissing intensifies, tongues intertwining, grazing each other, feeling the sliding and coarse motion of taste buds over each other, gliding over teeth and gums and all the rest as we grope at each other's bodies. You stroke his manhood as he gently squeezes your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, sending sensitive waves of warm pleasure cascading up your chest alongside the hot streams of water.

You guide his cock down, with some resistance like a spring he's so hard, and rub it over your clit. The tip of his glans sliding against you is heaven. You want him now more than ever.

Then reality hits again.

"No, no, Grayson, sorry, I can't, I really need to go--" you say, breaking away, returning to the soap, and sudsing yourself up all the more fervently. "I have work, we can't. I want you, believe me, I do, but I just don't have time..."

The more you clean yourself, the more you can feel his eyes penetrate you. You can feel he wants you on a primal level. Dear God, if only you could reciprocate, but work is in the way...

You step out of the shower and dry off. He keeps looking at you, erection dripping precum and twitching with a constant pulsing bloodflow as he also exits the water. God, you want it inside you.

"It's okay, baby, I'll be back before you know it, I--" you say.

"Come here, babygirl."

There's no point in resisting. You knew it before he said the words. You give in and rush right back to him. This is what you really want, fuck work. His hand is on the back of your neck, fingers running through your hair, and now you're making out again, you're making out so hard, even as the water keeps dripping off of you as you tried to dry off. You're supposed to be a strong, independent woman, but all of that fades away to pure, joyful submission when he chases you like this and takes charge.

He's taking what he wants, what he needs, what you need, too, guiding you over to the bed and bending you over in doggy. And you willingly submit. You want it, a strong, powerful man to provide you the kind of direction and satisfaction you've always wanted and needed. You want him to give it to you, you want to take it. Your pussy is soaking wet, and not from the shower.

There it is, penetration, God, yes, making you full and complete, yes, there it is. He thrusts, slowly at first, then picking up speed. You moan uncontrollably each time he hits your G-spot at this angle. You close your eyes and take it in. Thrust after thrust, the blossoms of pleasure bloom in glowing waves of warm friction, one after another and another and another and another...

Time seems to warp as you bury your face in the sheets. They smell like him, mixed with you. He pulls your hair. You love it when he dominates you, claims you like this. It makes you feel so... womanly. This is what you were meant to do. This is how it is meant to be. You give your body over completely to him.

His guttural groans grow louder and more animalistic as his thrusts intensify, and the passion of the fucking grows to a fever pitch. It's almost unbearable, you're shaking. You've completely lost yourself in the act, an ancient animalistic rite of male and female joining as one. You want nothing more than for him to finish inside of you now. You want that seed planted deep within you, this primal artwork won't be complete without it.

Then it happens. His grunting and groaning finally explodes inside of you. The sensation is warm and filling, and for a moment, all sense of life and eroticism seems to fade away to a white calming sensation of blackout, like everything will be okay, and nothing else matters in the world except this exotic bliss. This is what you were made for, and you savor and relish it. You have no cares, no troubles, no worry, no regrets. Just love.

Then everything crashes back to earth. You find yourself convulsing on his cock, body shuttering in orgasmic gyration as you tremble, pussy alight with contractions around his shaft. His seed is deep within you, overflowing and spilling out now. You've never felt so full and complete in your life. You shake from the raw sensitivity as he gives his last few pumps before sliding out. You can feel the semen overflow and drip out of your cunt and down your thighs as you lie there face-down, gasping for air. He leans onto you and nibbles on your ear, running his hand over your ass at the same time.

"I'll be right back," he whispers, then kisses you on the head.

When he leaves, the reality of the situation hits you. You're definitely going to be late for work now. Who knows how long you fucked. But you don't even look to check the time. Part of you smiles at the thought as you reach down and rub yourself, part of you hates yourself for it. Because you just don't care anymore. You glide your fingers over your clit, his slippery fluid mixed with your own grool is its own lube. You don't regret anything. You can't help but love the feeling of his cum dripping down your thighs. Something about it feels right, like you're finally fulfilling your primal duty as a woman. And that feels amazing.

You just lie there and savor the moment, sweet dopamine running through your veins. You bring up your fingers and smell and taste the sex. It ignites something feral in you. Could you get Plan B? Yeah, you could. Maybe you should. But what if you don't? Maybe you shouldn't. Maybe you'll just let that cum sit in you. Maybe you actually love the feeling of being inseminated. Maybe you want to feel that cum drip out of you and soak your panties all day. Maybe this is what you wanted all along. Maybe you want that sperm to embed itself in your egg and knock you up. Maybe this is what you were made for. Just think about how much your belly and breasts would swell, how pretty and curvy and feminine you'll be if you let that happen, the perfect fertility goddess...

He comes back into the room and holds out a plate. You sit up and smile at him, still playing with yourself. Suddenly, the thought of getting chewed out at work for tardiness doesn't seem so bad anymore. There's a kind of nonchalant calm in you now, a confidence that none of that matters anymore. You found your purpose.

"You need to eat something, babe," he says.

You grab the plate, smile widening. He kisses you on the forehead. As his load still trickles down your leg, you can't help but think that maybe this is a day you'll look back on 9 months from now. The day you gave in to nature. The day you gave into your true, divine femininity. The day you were bred...

And loved every second it.