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I tense up so much, I could curse myself.
Rockabye baby, on the treetop, he whispers, and it’s so fucking thrilling in its soothing filth that my skin prickles.
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock…
He finds my clit, sweeping back and forth, and I murmur.
When the bow breaks, the cradle will fall…
His cock is big. He grinds it against me, and I feel the tension of his restraint.
And down will come baby, cradle and all…
He coaxes my leg further back, up and over his, and hitches himself forward. I snuggle down into the mattress, and hold my pillow tight, feigning exhaustion as the head of his cock lines up against me.
He moves his hips so slowly it’s a sin, guiding his cock with such self-control that I can’t help but whimper. He’s pushing in, but it’s a strained torture, my pussy is that fucking desperate to consume him.
It takes everything I have to stay still. I don’t move, don’t coax, don’t do anything but breathe deeply and offer instinctive movements as he inches his way inside.
The girth and bulk filling up my pussy is a light in the slutty darkness. My sleepy, dazed murmurs are real. Fuck, I’ve needed this. I’ve needed this so bad.
His hips are a slow, deep piston. He times his rhythm with my breathing, his arm wrapping around my waist to hold me steady.
It’s insanely intimate. So up close and personal, in the softness of a bed like this with nothing more than a stranger. I’m heady in his arms. Vulnerable but soothed as he begins to speed up.
I fight the urge to move, to grip, to tense my muscles. I don’t do a thing other than offer gentle murmurs and the slightest rock of my hips. I’m his sleeping beauty, held in his grip in the night.
Whenever his thrusting becomes so intense that it jiggles me about and rocks the bed, he calms down. He slows and soothes.
Rockabye baby…
Every round of the carousel blurs the lines, and I’m fighting my own passion to keep the illusion in place.
It only makes the game more exciting.
User 1222’s voice and its lullaby whispers are addictive, and so are his teases. My headspace is vacant, lost, drifting. My body is relaxed but craving. My breaths steady but needy.
I wish he’d play with my clit, or squeeze my tits, or slam me deeper, but he doesn’t. His cock is buried to the hilt, giving me a girthy stretch, but there is no haste or power pumping in his actions. I’m so sensitive as I acclimatise. I risk adjusting myself, ever so slightly – the angle right to hit the spot. And it works. Oh, fuck, it works.
Keeping my breaths steady now is going to be harder. It’s all I can focus on as the pressure builds inside me. Steady thumps of his cock head, in and out. Grinding sweeps, slow and taunting enough that I want to buck and whine.
All I can do is murmur, and breathe, and grip my pillow.
I know when he’s getting ready to blow. I feel the tension in his balls, up against me. I feel the pulsing of his dick as he prepares to unload.
His breaths speed up but his thrusts don’t. My murmurs are louder, but I keep them in faraway land, still in character as the sleeping woman of his fantasies as one hand moves to my tit and squeezes.
Fuck!
If I could just rock… buck against him… take him harder.
But I can’t.
His wish is my command – and his pleasure comes over mine.
User 1222 holds back his grunts when he does come, but the air is filled with the tension. I can feel his thumping heart against my back. He’s built himself into a frenzy, but he comes in three long jets. I know the jerks and spasms as he does it. He’s unloaded a lot of cum in me, but it’s not enough…
I want to tell him to stop. To stay. To do it again. To use my horny clit until I come for him, with his cock still buried inside me. But I don’t. I can’t. I’m asleep.
