I’m exhausted. He’s up there sleeping, and I’ve escaped to the living room couch for refuge. His loud breathing is really getting to me. I love him dearly, but holy macaroni, I need sleep. Over the past decade, I have laid awake and annoyed on hundreds of nights, listening to his breathing for an hour before slipping out to sleep on our daughter’s extra bunk, even on blankets in the hall, anything to escape the noise. Now, I risk the loud stairs to rest, maybe sleep, on the living room couch. We really need to replace this old thing—the cushions have no support, and always sink in toward the middle, making quite an uncomfortable bed.
Nonetheless, this is where I end up when all I want is a good night’s sleep. I know I have precious few hours until dawn and I certainly don’t want to project my sleep deprivation onto my family or work folks. I need sleep.
I haven’t orgasmed in a week. But I decide to try now since I know it will help me drift off. I need a little help getting wet. Thank goodness for erotica apps—I can read a quick story, please myself, and get to sleep.
I read about a woman on a train making it with her seatmate, a smokin’ hot stranger. Lots of fingering in the story means lots of fingering of my own. Both characters come explosively, and I’m about ready to climax when I hear our bed creak above me. I stop and tense, ears perked. He’s going to the bathroom. I spread my legs into a good gyno pose. I squeeze my breasts and then reach past my clit-pleasing hand to press into the hole further back. I come hard, pleasure rocking my core, my breath so ragged I’m sure he can hear me.
Oh. He’s on the stairs. How did I miss his feet plodding down the hall? It’s dark down here, aside from the light from my phone. How much has he seen?
He doesn’t say a word, but he covers the distance to the couch quickly. He gently puts my phone on the floor before kissing my lips, then kisses my neck. His hand reaches under my sweatshirt and gives my breasts a squeeze. My nipples, already hard, become easy joysticks for his fingers. He reaches his other hand between my legs, feels around my moist sex, and whispers, “You came without me.” I close my eyes and murmur as he circles my clit and slides his fingers inside my vagina. He pulls my shirt over my head and yanks my pants and undies down my legs.
His boxer briefs hide nothing. I grab his cock hard with one hand and palm his firm buttocks with the other, pulling him toward my head. Then I pull the boxers down his legs, breathing heavily as I hear his breathing quicken in turn. Not one to pass up oral if offered, he pulls his fingers out of me to hold the couch for support as he jerks his erection toward my mouth.
I pull him into my mouth, making him groan. He squeezes my breast and plays with my nipple as I suck him wildly. We may have some issues, but we love each other, and we can still please each other. My tongue plays with his shaft and twirls around his tip, while my hands massage his ass and balls. He’s in heaven. I know I have him close to the edge and I’m ready to let him finish in my mouth, but he pulls away, squeezing my nipples playfully.
My groin pulses with anticipation. I’ve already orgasmed once on my own, but before I worry that I won’t be able to come for him, my vulva pulses. I am going to let loose again any moment now. He straddles me on the couch and spreads my legs, then groans with approval when he feels how wet I am.
“I’m so ready for you, baby,” I murmur as he slides in, and oh. The feeling is heavenly. He’s slow as he fills me, and then, just when I think no more of him can fit, he slams the rest in. I groan loudly, then match his pressure and reach around to squeeze his cheeks. That’s a favorite of his. We pulse together, two bodies as one. He sits up and grabs my hips as we slap together, my breasts jumping each time. He fingers my clit with one hand and fondles my nipples with the other and my body ricochets with orgasm, followed immediately by his own. His rock-hard cock jams into my pelvis once more and then he falls upon me, breathless.
We lay together like that for a long while, catching our breaths and basking in each other’s love. He is mine; I am his. –Sue Wells
Art: Gabriella Shery
Photo: Morgan Vander Hart/Unsplash
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This article originally appeared in the Winter 2021 print edition of BUST Magazine. Subscribe now!
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