Morning Moods

It had been unusually hot for early spring, but neither of us was ready to turn on the air conditioning. I slept in a nightie, and as is often the case, it slipped about during my sleep, leaving a nipple peeking from around the fabric. Humming in appreciation, you kiss your way down my neck, nuzzling and nipping when suddenly the mood shifts. With a growl, my nightie is pushed up, over and behind my head. I smile, seeing the bulge in your shorts. Settling more comfortably on the bed while you reach into the nightstand, I see you pull out coils of rope. You straddle my hips, passing the rope through your hands.

"Wrists."

Make no mistake, this is a command, and one I eagerly complied with. Quickly and efficiently, you execute a column tie and lift my hands above my head, hooking the loop to a strategically placed hook. I let my legs fall open in invitation.

"Look at you, legs open like the needy slut I like you to be. I'm not ready to use your cunt."

Back to the drawer, you pull out my sensi pussy plug. My eyes widen, then flutter as you drag the toy through my wetness. I'm not going to need any extra lube. I gasp and grunt as its width fills me. You fuck me briefly, too briefly, only two slow strokes, before making sure it is seated properly with my lips part around the base. Next, my knees are pressed together while you wrap the rope around my thighs, closing my legs tight. I growl and clench around the toy, feeling the ridged head press against my g-spot.

Suitably restrained with my legs tied and arms up, you turn your attention to the focus of this morning's desire. Sucking each nipple, you leave then them glistening and taut. Leaning back, you squeeze my breasts, gently kneading, thumbs stroking over my nipples. It's as if you're hypnotized, enjoying how they move almost fluidly within your palms. Suddenly your fingers curl and your nails lightly rake. Your hand lifts and lightly slaps the sides of each breast. The top. Lightly spanking. The blood rushes to the surface, lightly pinking them, increasing the sensitivity.

You change techniques again. Lightly pinching my nipples, then cruelly, rolling them, pulling and stretching them high, watching me arch into the height before releasing them only to thumb and roll again. My mind is darting between pleasure and discomfort, neither settling before switching. You find the motion and rhythm I like best, the one that can get so close to making me nipplegasm. I'm clenching and squeezing around the toy to get enough stim to come. But you stop. Your laughter is pure sensual-sadist evil. Rummaging in the nightstand again, you pull out the bag of clothes pins. I whimper so piteously, but you know your little masochist.

"Such a whimper! We both know what a slut you are for this pain. I bet your cunt is flooded. It's about to drip down, making such a mess on the sheets."

You begin ringing a spiral of clothespins around my right breast, starting at the tender flesh closest to my arm. "Count them," you command. My voice rises in pitch with every pinch, trembling like my body. At the center, you pause. Not wanting the consequences of failure, I repeat the current total in my head. My nipple has softened, so you tease it awake before fastening a final clothespin over the tip. "Twenty-one!" I cry out, panting. The process repeats on my left breast. My cries bring a smile to your face.

You kneel back across my thighs in lustful satisfaction. My face is flushed. My chest rises and falls with my panting breaths, making the clothespins quiver. You reach out, running your palms across the tops of the pins, making them clatter. Making them move ever so slightly. The tiny twists sparkle pain and endorphins through my mind and body, bringing shivers. I hiss and moan in response. My clit throbs, though, matching the pulse in your shorts. Unconsciously, I lick my lips; my eyes flit from your cock to your eyes when you laugh softly.

"Yes, yes, my little cock slut. I see that hunger."

Shifting to kneel beside my head, you free your cock, stroking it slowly for my greedy gaze. My enthrallment distracts me from your other hand which twists the clothespin on my nipple., causing me to open with a scream. As planned, you take the opportunity to thrust your cock into my hungry mouth. With your hand in my hair, you angle my head, pushing into my throat. Fucking it while clicking the clothespins, twisting the ones on my nipples, making me gurgle and moan around your cock. The sensations make you even harder; pulsing streams of precum coat my tongue. I'm writhing beneath you in response to the moving clothespins, arching my hips in a futile search for the stimulation I need. You pull out, my gasping mouth connected to you by strings of saliva.

"Good fucking girl," you breathe before plunging deep into my mouth, down my throat, holding still. And the first clothespin is removed. My scream is muffled by your cock. Tears roll into my hairline, and you pull back to allow me deep breaths before continuing to fuck my mouth. Removing clothespins when you bottom out, you shiver at the vibration of my muffled responses. I'm sucking wetly, eagerly on the top stroke, my chin and cheek a wet mess. Finally, the only ones to remain are on my nipples. You pull out, fisting your shining cock, gasping the command to open my mouth. Again, mesmerized, wanting your cum, I don't notice your other hand move. The clothespin opens, releases my nipple, and my cry catches the first spurt of your orgasm. The other nipple is released; again I cry out. The next shot lands on my tongue. My nipples ache deeply, but I am so fucking turned on. You stroke the rest of your orgasm into my hungry mouth, letting me taste you before kissing me deeply. Still bound, you lower my arms from the hook, and my hands rest on my belly. I'm tempted to let my fingertips reach the sweet cleft, but I know better.

Having slaked your own needs, you turn to my desires. Following the darkness of pain and taking, fulfilling me is aftercare for you. Softly now, your palms soothe my nipples. You move down, tenderly laving them while you untie my legs. Caressing down to my ankles then stroking up to my knees, you finally part them. Your laugh now is indulgent when you find my thighs gleaming and the bedding wet beneath me. My clit peeks from behind swollen lips, and you lick yours. You can barely grip the toy; it's so slick. You groan, watching the stretching withdrawal. It's your turn to be hungry so you dive in, tongue first, dipping into that sweet pool and licking upward to the pinkest little bud. Your pursed lips enclose my clit, suckling, tongue flicking, and I cum almost immediately.

Groping outward, your hand connects with what you seek: another dildo. This one is especially suited to hit my g-spot. You want that gush, a slut for my orgasm just as I am for yours. Hard, fast, mercilessly, you drive me to one splashy orgasm, then another, but this time the gush meets your groan. Lapping eagerly, you drop the slippery toy, replacing it with your curling fingers with your thumb on my clit. I babble in ecstasy, shaking through a last climax before melting boneless into the bed.

Through half-open eyes, I watch you lick your fingers and palm. Lips and chin shining, you sit up to untie my wrists. Holding me, kissing me, the minutes we cuddle before you get up. I hear the bath running and smile. My legs and shoulders ache from tension, and the bath is bliss. When I emerge, fresh sheets are on the bed, my cozy robe is laid out, and whiskey is poured. The scent of food cooking pulls a relaxed smile to my face. I mosey to the kitchen, joining you, hugging you from behind as you cook. We both sigh happily.