Morning wood rises again

Please don't write in the comments telling me how cheesy this is. I'm fully aware but a guy's gotta try new things right? This is not about to become a sex blog don't worry, more whining about my inability to have a relationship is undoubtedly on it's way.

We'd slept apart most of the night, two blankets on the bed and a full night of rest because we weren't jostling arms trying to get comfortable. With morning approaching, I rolled over to where she lay sleeping on her side, facing the wall. I put an arm around her and she moved to let the other one slide under her neck. I kissed her bare shoulder and then settled my head on the pillow, trying to fall back asleep. She had different plans though, pulling my hand up to her face, first to kiss my fingers and then to suck them. Sleep is overrated anyway.

She sucked each finger in turn, lingering and going back when she reached the last one. It doesn't take much of this to get me good and frustrated, so I pulled her hand to my face, kissed her fingers and then took my hand back. She still had her back to me, so I sneaked my hand down to between her legs to feel her. I slid my pinkie, the most conveniently available finger in our position, into her pussy, eliciting a groan of pleasure and making her grind back against me. I can play in her for days. For some reason, she responds well to my fingers. But not this morning. There'd be little foreplay involved. She was flooded and I was horny. I took my hand back pressing her legs back together to let her know not to move as a I reached for a condom. With one arm still trapped under her, it took a little maneuvering to get it on. Once sheathed though, I back towards her, sliding in from behind her with an uninvited but not unpleasant vision of a scene in Munich where Eric Bana takes his seven months pregnant wife in the same manner. Interesting sex scenes in a Spielberg movie, unbelievable! Still not as a interesting as what was going on in my bed at that moment. Thrusting from the position we were in was awkward, so my hand, the same one she'd teased to get this started, the same one that'd put on the condom, slid under her arms, pausing to tweak her breasts before hooking behind her beck, giving me some leverage to better slide in and out of her. Now we were in business. A little rough sure, but I don't think she minded.

Sex with the blonde involves constantly jostling for control of the action. With a smaller woman, it's all me. With the blonde's temperament and Rubenesque figure though, it's always a matter of who wants it more in whatever position we're in. As it was, my will definitely took precedence. I'm nothing if not generous though. I eased into her, settled on the bed and then pulled her back and onto me. Leaning on her elbow above me, she ground down on me, matching my thrusts with hers. I could hear her whimper, and every once in a while she did something that made me let loose a gasp to join her sounds. A moment later she'd give an even sharper and louder gasp as I made her sit up, coming fully and suddenly in contact with my very hard and very erect penis.

It was all her now, leaning backwards, resting on her wrists, she alternated between grinding her pussy down on my pelvis and sliding up and down my shaft. She likes to grind her orgasms out, her pussy rubbing against my pelvis in some prehistoric ritual like using flint sticks to make fire. It wasn't that time yet though. She needed more stimulation and when she took her hands off the bed to rest them on my chest, I took the chance to give it to her (because, you know, this was all about her, I'm a total ascetic who wasn't getting anything from these proceedings). I nudged her forward, then grabbed her wrists, effectively taking control of things. She hung forward bouncing back into me as I fucked her, thrusting upwards from the bed. She looked magnificent, her shoulders overly tan from the bare shouldered dresses she's favored all Summer, her pale back streaked with flushes of blood from scratches, both fresh and from the night before. The previous tenant of my apartment left a mirror hanging on the door of my bedroom and though I think it somewhat cheesy, I've left it in place. I glanced into it and then stared transfixed at the vision of us together. Her back muscles rippled as she pulled away from me, her ass rising and falling, flexing and settling. In a (to me) hilarious play on the reverse cowboy, she looked like some amazing creature straining against me, her arms the reins by which I held her in place. Sex should always be so glorious.

She slowed to a grind again, catching her breath, urging her orgasm on, but denied again as she extended too far and my dick flopped out of her, itself at half mast. She giggled, leaning forward, breathing heavily. The room reeked of sex, womanly goodness, the latexy scent of the Trojan, tang and musk, sweat in the air. She turned around, still resting on my pelvis and leaned in for a kiss, our first that morning. Those lips... would raise sleeping beauties and dead men from their rest. They certainly raised my nodding little soldier and once again, almost painfully hard, I pushed into her. Again she began to rise and fall. I grabbed her hips, forcing myself deeper into her. She giggled and said, "it hurts my liver when you do that." Actually I think the near toxic punch from the barbecue and the bourbon that followed were what hurt her liver. Whatever it was my dick was supposed to be hurting didn't seem to mind that much as she matched me for ferocity, thrust for thrust, push for push. And then onto her orgasm, slowing back to that grind that is so instinctive to her and so learned to me, rolling and rocking (and not a beer in sight!) with noises far too obscene and loud for that time of the day as if the late night dalliances that rattled the building as we tested the strength of my glass desk had not already ensured that my neighbors completely abhor me. And onto the brilliant sunset of her orgasm the cowgirl rode, in a scene not scripted by Sergio Leone, but just as glorious. And then she collapsed on me, heavy breathing, bright pink nails flashing past my face as she went to hug me.

We stayed in much the same position, her hips lazily swinging around my dick as she recovered. "Fuck Tony the Tiger, I want Frosted Flint (my real name unfortunately does not provide for this lovely alliteration) for breakfast everyday," she said. How sweet.