He woke up hard.
I felt it before I was fully awake, the thick press of him against my ass, his hand already between my thighs checking how much of last night was still in me. His fingers came away slick. He pushed them back in, slow, and I clenched around them on instinct.
“Morning,” he said against my neck. “Open.”
I opened my legs. He didn’t bother with more prep. He lined up and sank into the mess he’d left, one long stroke that shoved a broken sound out of me and into the pillow. I was sore. Swollen. Still full. He felt all of it and groaned, hips flush to my ass, c**k buried to the root.
“f**k, you’re creamy. Kept it all night like I told you.”
He started to move. Not the frantic pace from last night. Deep, grinding strokes that pushed his old c*m out around his c**k and down on
