The room was quiet, the late afternoon sun filtering through the blinds in soft golden streaks. I stepped inside, my heels clicking lightly against the hardwood floor before I kicked them off, letting my bare feet sink into the plush rug. He was there, sprawled across the bed, naked and glorious, his body relaxed in sleep. The sight of him—his broad chest rising and falling with each breath, the way his muscles seemed to ripple even at rest—made my stomach flutter.

I couldn’t help but smile as I crossed the room, my fingers already itching to touch him. God, he’s beautiful. I paused for a moment, just to take him in, to memorize the way his dark hair fell over his forehead, the faint stubble shadowing his jaw, the way his cock lay soft against his thigh. My mouth watered at the thought of what was to come.

Quietly, I began to undress, peeling off my blouse first, then my skirt, letting each piece of clothing fall to the floor in a whisper of fabric. My bra came next, then my panties, until I stood there, completely bare, my skin tingling with anticipation. I climbed onto the bed, careful not to wake him just yet, and slid under the covers, nestling myself against his side. His warmth enveloped me immediately, and I couldn’t resist resting my head on his shoulder, my leg draping over his, my breasts pressing softly against his chest.

For a moment, I just stayed like that, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath me. But my hands had other ideas. They began to move almost of their own accord, tracing lazy circles over his pecs, my fingers exploring the hard planes of his chest. His skin was warm, smooth, and I lingered, enjoying the way his muscles tensed slightly under my touch, even in sleep.

I let my hand drift lower, moving down his stomach, feeling the subtle ridges of his abs. So tight. My fingers brushed over the faint trail of hair leading downward, and I felt a shiver run through me as I imagined where it would lead. I continued my exploration, sliding my hand down his left leg, feeling the strength in his thigh, the way his muscles flexed even in rest. Then, oh-so-slowly, I moved back up the inside of his thigh, my heart rate picking up as I neared his groin. My fingertips brushed against the soft skin of his balls, then—just barely—grazed the base of his cock. I didn’t linger, though. Not yet. Instead, I moved over to his other leg, repeating the same motion, my touch light and teasing. His cock twitched under my hand, beginning to stiffen, and I bit my lip to keep from grinning.

I love doing this to him.

I worked my hand back up his stomach, retracing my path, letting the anticipation build. His breathing changed, growing slightly uneven, and I knew he was waking up. Still, he didn’t open his eyes, didn’t say a word. He was letting me take control, and that only made me wetter.

This time, when I reached his groin, I didn’t just brush against him. I palmed his balls gently, massaging them with just enough pressure to make him groan low in his throat. His cock was fully hard now, straining against my hand, and I couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss him, my lips pressing softly against his. It was a gentle tease, nothing more, but I could feel the hunger building between us.

Breaking the kiss, I moved down his body, pausing to flick my tongue over his nipple, feeling it harden under my touch. I gave it a little nibble with my teeth, and he jerked slightly, a low curse escaping his lips. Good. I wanted him to feel every second of this. Continuing downward, I finally reached his cock, so hard and thick, begging for attention. I started at the base, running my tongue along the underside, savoring the salty taste of him. Slowly, I worked my way up, my tongue swirling around the shaft, pausing to lavish attention on the frenulum, that sensitive spot that always drove him wild. He groaned again, his hips lifting off the bed slightly, and I smiled against his skin. Then, without warning, I took the head of his cock into my mouth, sucking gently, my tongue working over the tip. His hands fisted in the sheets, and I could hear his breathing grow ragged. I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock, stroking him in time with my mouth, reveling in the way he tasted, the way he felt against my tongue.

But just as I sensed he was close, I pulled away abruptly, sitting back on my heels. His eyes flew open, dark and hooded with desire, and I grinned at him. “Now it’s my turn,” I said, my voice low and sultry. Before he could respond, I threw my leg over him, straddling his chest, and shimmied my way up until I was hovering over his face. I lowered myself onto him, feeling his mouth instantly bury itself in my pussy, his tongue hot and eager. I moaned, positioning myself so that his tongue was right where I needed it, and began to grind against him, slow and deliberate.

His hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as he devoured me, his tongue driving me closer and closer to the edge. I could feel my climax building, tightening low in my belly, and I knew I wouldn’t last much longer. With a gasp, I moved back, sliding down his body until I was straddling his hips, my slick pussy pressed against his cock. Leaning down, I kissed him passionately, tasting myself on his lips, and the combination of our flavors sent another wave of arousal crashing through me. I reached between us, grasping his cock and guiding it to my entrance. Then, slowly, I sank down onto him, my body stretching to accommodate his size, until he was buried deep inside me.

I sat up, finding the perfect angle, and began to rock against him, grinding my clit against his pelvis as I rode him. His hands found my hips, helping me move, and I closed my eyes, losing myself in the sensation. It didn’t take long; the friction, the fullness, the way he filled me so completely—it was too much. My orgasm hit me hard, waves of pleasure crashing over me as I cried out, my body trembling with the intensity of it. When I finally came down, I leaned over him, brushing my lips against his. “Are you ready to fuck me now?” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

He growled, his hands tightening on my hips, and I knew exactly what he wanted. I kissed him again, then looked him straight in the eye. “Come fuck me.” Without hesitation, I climbed off him and rolled onto my back, spreading my legs wide, waiting for him to claim me.

He moved over me, his body hovering above mine, his cock brushing against my thigh—so hard, so ready. But just as he positioned himself to enter me, I squeezed my thighs together, trapping him between them. His eyes widened in surprise, and I pulled his head down to mine, kissing him deeply, passionately. Our tongues danced, and I could taste myself on his lips, a reminder of what we’d already shared. It only made me hungrier for more.

I broke the kiss, our foreheads pressed together, our breaths mingling. “Now you can fuck me,” I whispered, my voice low and commanding.

His grin was wicked, and before I could say another word, he shifted his hips, aligning himself with my entrance. I gasped as he slid into me, inch by delicious inch, until he was fully inside. He paused for a moment, letting me adjust to the feel of him, but I didn’t want gentle. I wanted everything. “Don’t hold back,” I urged, my nails digging into his shoulders. That was all the encouragement he needed. He began to move, slow at first, then faster, deeper, harder. Each stroke sent shockwaves through me, and I arched my back, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him even closer. My feet pressed into his ass, urging him on, demanding more. He groaned, the sound raw and primal, and I loved knowing how much I was affecting him.

My hands roamed his body, tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the way they tensed and flexed with every thrust. When I reached his chest, I lingered, running my fingers over his nipples—hard and sensitive, just like mine. I pinched one gently, then the other, and he growled, his rhythm faltering for a moment before he recovered, pounding into me even harder. “You like that?” I teased, my voice breathless. “Fuck yes,” he ground out, his hands gripping my hips tighter, pulling me into each thrust.

I could feel the heat building inside me again, my second orgasm rising to meet his ferocity. I let go of his chest and reached down between us, finding my clit with my fingers. The moment I touched it, I moaned, the sensation almost too intense. I circled it slowly, matching the pace of his thrusts, then faster as the pleasure built. “I want you to finish on me,” I said, my words coming out in gasps. “I want to feel your cum on my body.”

The look he gave me was electric, and I knew he was close. So was I. His strokes became erratic, harder, faster, and I matched him, grinding against his cock as I worked my clit. The tension coiled tighter and tighter until it snapped, and I came with a cry, my body convulsing around him. “I’m ready,” he panted, his voice strained. I released my grip on him, and he pulled out quickly, his hand replacing mine as he stroked himself. I watched, mesmerized, as his cock pulsed, and then he came, hot streaks of cum hitting my stomach, my breasts, my chest. I spread it with my fingers, loving the feel of him on me, the way it marked me as his.

But I wasn’t done yet.

I sat up, catching his wrist and bringing his fingers to my mouth. I sucked them clean, tasting him, savoring the salty tang of his release. He watched me with darkened eyes, his chest heaving, and I could tell he wasn’t finished either. “Again,” I said, my voice firm, my gaze locking with his. “Fuck me again.”

He didn’t hesitate. He pushed me back onto the bed, his body covering mine, his hands pinning mine above my head. There was no teasing this time, no buildup. He entered me in one swift motion, and I cried out, the sudden fullness taking my breath away. “Like this?” he asked, his voice rough, as he began to move. “Yes,” I breathed, my hips lifting to meet his. “Just like that.”

He didn’t disappoint.

Each thrust was deliberate, powerful, driving me closer to the edge once more. His hands moved from mine, sliding down my body to grip my hips, to cup my breasts, to tease my nipples. Every touch, every movement, was designed to drive me wild, and it was working.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered, his voice thick with need.

I obeyed, my fingers finding my clit again, rubbing it in fast, tight circles. The combination of his cock filling me and my fingers working my clit was overwhelming, and it wasn’t long before I felt another orgasm building.

“I’m close,” I warned, my voice trembling. “Come for me,” he growled, his pace quickening.

And I did. My body clenched around him, my back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. He followed me over the edge, his release triggering mine, and we clung to each other, riding out the storm together.

When it was over, we lay tangled together, our breathing slowly returning to normal. But even as my body relaxed, my mind was already racing ahead.

“One more time,” I murmured, turning my head to look at him. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Greedy, aren’t we?” “Always,” I replied with a grin.

He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “What do you want this time?” I thought for a moment, then leaned in close, my lips brushing his ear as I whispered, “I want you to take me from behind.” His eyes darkened, and I knew I had him. Without a word, he nudged me onto my hands and knees, positioning himself behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, watching as he lined himself up, and then he was inside me again, filling me completely. This angle was different, deeper, more intense. I braced myself against the bed, moaning as he began to move. “Harder,” I begged, my voice barely more than a whisper. He obliged, his hands gripping my hips as he drove into me, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure through me. I reached back, grabbing his wrist and guiding his hand to my clit.

“Make me come again,” I said, my voice breaking.

He didn’t need to be told twice. His fingers found my clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts, and it wasn’t long before I felt the familiar coil of tension tightening inside me. “I’m going to—” But before I could finish, he cut me off with a growl. “Not yet.” He slowed his pace, drawing out each stroke, each touch, until I was trembling with need.

“Please,” I pleaded, my voice desperate. “Only when I say,” he replied, his voice calm, controlled.

It was torture, exquisite and unbearable, and I loved every second of it. Finally, when he could see I was on the brink, he leaned over me, his breath hot against my ear. “Now.” The single word was enough to send me over the edge, my body convulsing around him as I came hard. He followed moments later, his release joining mine, and we collapsed together, spent and satisfied. But even as I lay there, my body still humming with pleasure, I couldn’t help but think about what might come next. “What now?” I asked, my voice soft but curious.

He turned to me, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What do you want?” I smiled, my mind already racing with possibilities. “Surprise me.”