Start The Day (him)
Inspired by my HNT #25, this was written by an extremely sexy reader of mine, blue_eyed_gypsy.
The view from the glassless window is spectacular, like a Hokusai print: rugged mountains, rural village, empty and quiet under a blanket of late spring snow. The light is pale and grey, throwing the whole scene into monochrome, washing through the still partially closed rice paper shutters, around me, into the room behind me. Without turning, I know it is illuminating the details of the woman lying on the futon at my feet.
I feel her hand at the base of my calf. It’s warm against my cooling skin; the temperatures are still low enough that my nipples have puckered and my cock has shrunk as far as it can to preserve heat. The hand traces its way up my slightly spread legs until she reaches the crease where my ass meets the backs of my thighs. Already, my cock is responding, both to the touch and to the thoughts released by it. Her fingers linger at the bottom of the cleft, then drift slowly and agonizingly lightly along the perineum. Her arms are not long enough to go any further from her prone position, and I wonder what she will do next. She has enough height to wrap the tips of her fingers around my sac, and she plays with it, palpating it, stroking it, one finger still rubbing along the taint.
I turn my head finally, my thoughts wholly wrested from rural Japan, and look down at her over my shoulder. My cock is already more than half hard, and I start to stroke it while I watch her. Her eyes are sleep-heavy, looking up the length of my body through half closed lids. They’re opened sufficiently, though, that I can see incipient desire. She looks up into my eyes. It’s enough.
I bring my body fully around, without letting my gaze leave hers. The down kakebuton that has helped keep us warm has slipped down off her shoulders to her breasts, its progress stopped by her stiffened nipples. Her nipples are long and perfect, inviting play and torture alike. Suddenly, I want to see them, erect and aching for my touch, and I drag the comforter down her body with my foot, letting it go when it has reached the top of her thighs, far enough down to expose an inch or two of her trimmed pussy.
She makes a small sound of disapproval at the sudden invasion of cold air. Her nipples are indeed erect, standing stiffly out from the soft, flattened mounds of her breasts. I can see the flesh of her tits contract in the chill, the skin covered in the tiny, fading bruises that are the legacy of passion-induced bites a few nights ago.
Evidently deciding that there will be no more sleep this morning, she raises and locks her arms above her head, and stretches: her eyes scrunch closed, her back arches slightly, throwing her ribcage into relief, her breasts up and her pelvis down; her legs part and extend as far as she can push them, trying to force the sleepiness from her body. This pulls the comforter down further, and her legs flail a little and rid her body of it completely. When she is done, one leg is drawn up and canted slightly outward, and her arms remain raised above her head. She smiles at me, sleep still lingering in her eyes and on her lips. I watch her throughout this short litany, transfixed, and by the time she smiles up at me – no more than thirty seconds – my cock is rigid, pulsing and already seeping, and I can feel the heat coursing in waves through my body.
My gaze sweeps over her, again, as it has countless times in the last several days, and I am still equally confounded and aroused. She is liquid sex, walking sex, dreaming sex, sex personified, sex incarnate. Lying there as she is, physically and mentally primed to respond to whatever I am ready to do to her, I can only think of her as a woman made to be fucked, and fucked well, again and again.
I know her well enough now to know that this is not deliberate, not an effort to seduce and control. She is unaware of just how powerful, how visceral her effect is on me; it is a part of her. Her need to fuck – or fuck me, anyway – is as natural as her need to breathe.
Our Japanese hosts think we are crazy to spend as much time as we do in our room, fucking, when there is all this beauty around us to appreciate. But I have no desire to waste a single minute of our stolen time together, and neither does she, so we spend our time learning each other in mutual pleasure. I move to stand between her slightly parted legs, kicking them further apart, until she lies with legs splayed, the lips of her pussy spread, beckoning. I stoop and pull her leg up so that both knees are now bent, then drop to my knees between her open thighs. When I push her knees even further apart, the deep rose of her cunt is exposed, and I catch the scent of her arousal. “Hot, throbbing cock” is a cliche, but that’s what I am now, all I am now, just from looking at her and from the anticipation of fucking her, hard and long, until she cries in surrender.
My hand finds her cunt, first one, then two and three fingers rooting deep into her, my thumb seeking and finding her clit. It is hard to believe, but she is wet already, slick enough that my fingers can force their way past her tightness without much trouble. She is breathing more rapidly, and her eyes are closed with pleasure. I pause in my finger fucking to watch her. Her hips are flexing, trying to draw my hand deeper, to tempt it to thrust harder and more quickly. Her eyes open and I see that they are almost black, the pupils dilated with arousal and need – mine must appear so to her as well.
I resume my actions, my fingers plunging deep, exploring her. Her little clit is engorged and her cunt is swollen, ready. I can feel her tightening around my hand, her pelvis moving in quick jerks. Her eyes struggle open again. “Oh, God, baby. Fuck me. Please. Please, baby, I want you in me so badly.” The plea comes on a breath, a small gasp. Suddenly, inexorably, I need to fuck her as badly as she needs to be fucked. I need the feel of her skin against mine, of her body moving under me; I need to feel her struggle and acquiesce, I need to feel her submit.
I move up to lie over her, my hands trapping hers over her head. The weight of my lower body pins her in place, and I thrust into her, with no preamble, hard, seating my cock in her fully on that single thrust.
Her cunt closes around me, gloriously hot and slick. No time for a gentle, teasing build up this time: I’m pounding her, plowing that beautiful, needy cunt so hard that our bones contact and my balls are slapping against her rhythmically. She is struggling like a trapped animal between my arms; I can feel her nipples scraping against my chest as she arches and slides. Her hips rise and fall, meeting my thrusts, forcing my cock even deeper.
Suddenly her body stills, and I know she is about to come, so I pump even faster, my own climax imminent as well. When the orgasm overtakes her, her body arches up off the futon, muscles rigid, for long seconds before she starts to buck, But the tight muscles of her cunt have thrown me over the edge, and I explode in her with a grunt, my semen erupting in hot spurts. The dizzying pleasure, the hot satisfaction of taking her, seems endless, my seed pouring into her, filling her and spilling out again to coat her thighs.
As my cock finally begins to soften, I try to withdraw but she tightens her cunt to hold me. She wraps her legs around mine, so that we are entwined from mid-thigh to ankle. She wriggles, and wraps her freed arms around me, hugging me tightly to her. In response, I draw my elbows in, my forearms pressing her ribcage, and I burrow my groin into the softness of her belly. Both of us are breathing as though we had just run miles, and I drop my head next to hers. The skin of her cheek is smooth against mine, and her hair sweet smelling where I am nuzzling against her, perfectly sated.
A good way to start the day.
