Always love to hear your feedback and what gets you off. Have fun! All characters are over the age of eighteen.
Whatever you do to me, I won't blame you. I didn't mean for this to happen- to tempt you like this. I swear I just meant to lay down next to you. I would never want to jeopardize your relationship with my mom.
It's just that you've made her so happy. I guess somewhere deep down I wanted to feel that same glow she has the mornings after you spend the night.
I couldn't say it out loud, but that's what was going through my head when I saw you sleeping this afternoon. I *was* tired after driving home from class, and your bed just looked so comfortable. How could I resist crawling onto that big comforter next to you?
I watched you sleep there for a moment. It felt like a once in a lifetime opportunity to study your body in secret. To take my time admiring the stubble growing in on your cheeks and chin, watch the rise and fall of your bare chest. I felt my cheeks burn as I let my gaze follow the slope of your stomach down to your belly button and that patch of hair leading me down to the waistband of your sweats. Just grey sweatpants. The material was thin. I remember noticing the contour of your hips through it. I could see the powerful muscles of your upper thigh twitch unconsciously.
Now I'm here, looking down your body, on a precipice.
I can see your cock.
It's a bulge in the fabric down your right leg. It looks thick.
I don't realize that I'm leaning in until I hear you breathe a little deeper. I snap back and look at your face. My eyes are wide in fear and shame. Yours are still peacefully closed. I watch for a few seconds, holding my breath and my heart is fucking pounding.
Your breathing stays steady and that rush of adrenaline tensing my muscles starts to change. It feels like it's dissolving and dropping and pooling down between my hips in a restless, heavy heat. An urge. I breathe with you for a few cycles and settle down into the crook of your arm.
I'm just taking a nap with you. I'm tired and a little chilly, and you're always so warm when I hug you, so why wouldn't I snuggle up?
Why wouldn't I start to trail my fingertips over your chest? My arm is uncomfortable down by my side. I brush back and forth over the dip of your sternum, feeling the soft tension of your pectoral muscles. Gently- I don't want to wake you up.
The swirl of whatever pattern I'm drawing on your skin grazes your left nipple and you tense momentarily. That same spike of adrenaline shoots through me as I tear my eyes away from my wandering fingers and up to your face.
Your eyes are closed. You're breathing steadily. I study your lips. They're parted slightly. I imagine my name dripping off of them in your golden timbre and lick my lips.
My fingers are tracing their lines on your chest again, slowly swooping around and around. My other hand is pinned underneath my side, but it's restless. I curl my elbow up between our bodies so my hand is pressed to my own breast and start to mimic the circles I'm making on your chest. I can feel my nipple through my bra. Fuck it's so sensitive. I start flicking my thumb over the hard nub, immediately relieving some of the need buzzing deep in my stomach. And fuck, when you inhale your rib cages presses further into me and it pinches my nipple just enough to send electricity flowering out through my nerves.
I barely realize when I've started kneading your chest with my fingers. I've stopped caring that what I'm doing might be wrong, that you might wake up and catch me.
