Sound Sleepers

It was after midnight. I couldn't sleep.

From behind me, I heard him murmur, "You up?"

I felt his hand on the roll of my belly through my loose t-shirt, reaching over from behind me. It slid down the front of my boxer shorts and rested on my hairy vulva, finding that it was hot and damp.

Then I was on my back, and he had my boxer shorts off, and his nose and mouth were pressed so deeply into my plump pubic mound that I worried he wasn't breathing.

He zeroed in, as he knew to do, on my labia, just below my clitoris, and brought me to a swift orgasm with the tip of his well-practiced tongue.

I grunted like an animal. My ass was off the bed, my hips rolling in the air. After that, I laid, my energies temporarily spent. I was saturated with spit and girlcum.

He knelt upright.

In the dim moonlight through the slats in the window, he shimmied out of his women's boyshort panties. He kept the black crop top he wore, which showed all of his lean tummy.

Then he slouched against the headboard with his knees up and apart, displaying his upright cock and balls, his neatly groomed asshole.

"This'll help you sleep better," he said, smiling.

I got up off the bed. Rummaging in a drawer, I found my harness and our favorite dildo--smooth, bulbed and curved upright at the end. I gave it a drizzle of lube and rubbed it all around.

Clad in just my big t-shirt and straps of PVC that circled my soft thighs and round ass, I knelt in front of him.

He looked up at me. He made me melt inside, the way he looked at me. I put my hands on the mattress on either side of him, smelled his warm, earthy scent.

He wrapped his legs around my waist and put his hands on my shoulders, drawing me in.

He sighed musically as the end of the dildo entered him just a little. His anus was accustomed to penetration by now, but the head was big and he liked to take it slow.

Soon, I was in up to the O-ring. He took deep, deliberate breaths. It must have felt overwhelming to him.

I withdrew just a little, then pushed back in, pressing him into the bed with my hips, pulsing him rather than pounding him, the kind of short, deep strokes I knew he liked.

For that matter, so did I.

Before I could ask, he whispered, "I'll be okay, babe."

"You want to really get fucked?" I asked him.

He nodded, then looped his wrists around the back of my neck, his fingers in my thick wavy air, as I lengthend my stroke, our bodies audibly slapping at a slow, even tempo.

I was getting fatigued. He sighed a high-pitched, hitching sigh of gratitude as I pushed all the way inside him one last time, as deep and hard as I could, touching the most unreachable depths of him.

His body thrummed underneath mine, through his fingers on my scalp, through his legs hooked over my hips, and only once I felt him relax did I start the slow, hypersensitized process of withdrawing.

His cock had wept precum against his belly. His asshole was loose and slick with lube; it made a vulgar sucking sound as the head of the dildo came away from him.

He still needed to get off.

"Watch me," he said, reaching under the bed and finding our wand vibrator. We used it so regularly that we never bothered to unplug it.

He resumed his position, thighs splayed for my pleasure, wand at the ready.

He clicked it on.

At its low setting, he ran the bulky head of it down and up his shaft. Once he was accustomed to the wide, flat buzz, he switched it to high and settled in on his frenulum, just below his dickhead.

The aggressiveness of the wand and his advanced arousal made short work of him.

I watched with fascination as he brought himself to orgasm, his stomach muscles convulsing, white cum streaking his crop top and belly.

When he settled back down, I passed him a baby wipe.

Then we laid together, holding each other close, giggling as his drying semen threatened to glue us together.

We necked a while before we each fell into a deep slumber. We slept soundly the rest of the night.