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Morningsong
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Morningsong
When you sleep, the lines all smooth out of your face. Worry
lines, age lines, even the laugh wrinkles at the corner of your eyes
that I see all too rarely, disappear into pale softness. I was
pressed against your back, asleep, my chest against your spine, my
left arm flung over your waist. I wake hours before you would, if
left to yourself.
Oh, but I am too cruel to let you sleep. I slide my hand down
until it curls around your penis, soft in the morning sunlight. I
wait, breathing softly on your neck, too softly to wake you. Soon,
warmth of my hand and gentle pressure combine to begin to make you
hard; a slow, delightful stiffening.
Gentle, so gentle this must be. I don't want you to wake
until I'm ready.
Now comes the difficult part. I must climb over you without
waking you, and find a comfortable place halfway down your body,
somehow without falling off the bed. You have edged your way almost
to falling off yourself, so this is difficult. I must nudge you over,
so slowly, hoping you will not wake or roll over into an imossible
position. I am lucky this time, and you make room for me, grumbling
in your sleep.
You are still hard. My right hand slips down to cup
your balls, hanging cool and loose in the morning. My tongue darts
out to taste you, salty-sweet, indescribably you. I would know the
taste of you anywhere. You are somehow sweeter than any of my other
lovers.
I run my tongue up and down your hard length, flicking gently
at the tip, caressingly lovingly at the base. My teeth close softly
on your cock, and I wonder if you will wake. But no, you sleep on.
Good. My mouth encircles your tip, squeezing gently, and traces of
salt liquids linger on my tongue.
I begin to slide up and down, so softly. My right hand slides
into yours, above my head, over your heart. Your heartbeat is getting
faster. As I lick and suck and nibble, I begin to wonder if it's time
to wake you. Now, as I rub my cheek against your cock? Now, as I run
teeth along its length? Now, as I suck you so hard, go down so far,
that I can feel you against my throat, and I am filled with you.
And as you begin to clench muscles in your sleep and move
against my face I decide it is time, and raise my head only long
enough to say your name clearly. Then you are awake, and your eyes
lock briefly, startled, on mine before I dive back on you, my mouth
plunging over your hard heat, over and over until the shock of waking
is past and you are building and building towards the finish.
And there is no more need to be gentle, and suddenly you are
slamming into me and cumming wildly, and I must swallow and swallow
again until you are finished. You reach down then and draw me up
towards you, pausing only to kiss me briefly and say my name before
sliding down to do the same to me.
We are so beautifully matched; body to body. And my heart is
pounding as your mouth encircles my hard length, stroking fiercely
from base to tip.
Your mouth on my cock, my heart in your hands.
*****
M.A. Mohanraj
September 2, 1993
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