Sunday Morning

Eyelashes fluttering, she snapped to consciousness with a hand stroking down her body. Legs parting automatically, as was the rule, it took a moment of focus to realize why the hand which dipped between her legs to find moisture felt not quite right.

That’s right, she remembered suddenly. She’d gone to sleep last night with a woman curled between them, warm and sated, all three falling deeply into the kind of sleep that only aerobics followed by orgasm could bring. She turned her head to get lost in hair that swirled around the both of them, to see the curve of feminine lips above her. Passion took hold and she reached out in turn, burying fingers in the other woman’s hair as she begged their Master for permission to ride the wave of pleasure, the poured over the edge as if the waterfall had taken her.

Her front was suddenly hit by cooler air and she opened her eyes to see their Master pull their partner to the edge of the bed, using firm grips on her hair and her own positioning as leverage. He tipped their girl’s head over the edge of bed, sliding his cock between her eager lips. His gaze fell on her and she scrambled to place herself between their girl’s spread thighs. Placing her thumbs on their girl’s outer labia, she pushed to reveal the erect clitoris beneath. She wiggled closer on her stomach and buried her face between their girl’s thighs, taking a moment to enjoy the musky scent of all three of them blended together from last night before closing her eyes again and delicately lapping at the engorged flesh. As she pleasured their girl with mouth and hands, Master stroked in and out of her mouth, pausing when she struggled to breathe, gagging at times. Their girl wrapped her arms around His thighs, pulling him to her more enthusiastically as she began to approach her climax.

As He stroked and she licked, their girl imagined she was a flame burning between them, existing as nothing but an object for pleasure, and she screamed around the cock buried in her throat as she came, pulling Him closer and over that same waterfall with her, passion releasing down her throat. Disengaging, He stroked her her and the hair of his other partner as she crawled towards them. Rearranging themselves, they piled back onto the bed to lazily doze in the half-light of the morning, drifting back to sleep.

‘Easy like Sunday morning,’ was the last coherent mutter between them, their morning a happily haphazard tangle of bare limbs, blankets and stuffies. Breakfast could wait when there was love to be shared.