50 Kinds of Kink: Rituals

In her sleep she gave a quiet moan, rolling over to press her back against him.  No more awake, his body responded, adjusting so that his arms held her close against his chest. His cock stirred, waking him up with it.

His eyes cracked, to see the top of her head, silky hair mussed by the pillow he'd given her last night. She gave another little squirm in her sleep, pressing her hips back against him for more contact.

His cock was the first one to notice how wet she was, its length just barely brushing against her opening as he cuddled into her warmth. Another moan, another little writhe, and the wetness coated the head of his cock. He carefully maneuvered, slipping his arm over her to just barely tease her entrance. He pulled his finger away after judging it wet enough, pressing the digit against his lips, basking in her smell and taste. He almost wanted to lap it up, but no, later.

Despite his longing, his hips pulled away from hers, giving him just enough room to wipe the juices on her less-frequently used hole, coaxing his finger in gently with her own lubrication. The next moan that came was definitely more awake, though she said nothing. She only arched her back, accentuating the swell of her hips as she offered her pert ass, more eager than she would ever otherwise admit.

He took her offering with pure glee, wrapping his hands around her hips and tugging her onto him. He pulled slowly until she was pressed fully against her, basking in the feeling of her tightness against him. A hand wrapped around to tease its fingers against her soaked cunt. She always reacted like this, every morning. In a practiced motion he put his fingers in his mouth, looking her straight in the eyes. Her blush went down to her chest, spreading further when he pressed his mouth to hers, giving her a taste of herself.

Once his lip touched hers he began pumping, hips rocking forward at the same time as he pulled her back to slam himself into her ass, whimpers of enjoyment coming from her at each stroke. It never took him long in the mornings, not with what her submission did to him. It drove him mad, and he restrained himself from biting, just for today. But oh, to feel her come around him.... He emptied a flood into her ass, rolling so that he was on top of her while still pinning her with his body. From the nightstand he drew a glass plug, the circumference the same as that of the head buried so deeply in his wife. He withdrew himself, biting his lip at the new sensitivity, and ever-so-carefully nestled the plug between her cheeks.

"Good girl," he told her, kissing the back of her head.

"Good morning, Master."