Even though he had lowered the shades in the room they shared before going to bed, enough light leaked in to cause his eyes to flutter open. Daylight. Morning. Saturday.
He stirred and stretched a bit and his hand found its way (as all men’s hands do, seemingly by themselves) to his crotch. Scratch. Squeeze. Hard, but not as hard what he usually found there. His other hand reached just as instinctively for his phone. 5:58. The alarm was set for 6:00 anyway, so he turned it off and snuck out of bed trying not to wake her up.
Six o’clock is too damned early to wake up on a Saturday but he had to go to the gym and meet his trainer. This early spot was really hers but she decided a while back she didn’t like waking up that early on a Saturday, either, and told him he had to take it. She’d have his 9:00 spot. Kiss on the cheek. Thanks.
He padded around the house, still naked, morning wood bobbing around in front of him like an eager dog at the end of a leash. He tried to ignore it. Speaking of which, the dog would want to go out soon. Grab a Diet Coke. Get the sandwich in the microwave.
He didn’t like getting up that early but liked this early morning stillness. Like it being quiet. Liked being able to be naked around the house. Liked the kids being away so he didn’t have to cover himself. She let him close the blinds on the huge fishbowl-like windows in front of their home. The ones that let all the people see in and observe their every move, if they wanted to. He opened the door and grabbed the paper. Just a flash of nakedness, but no one to see it. Minor thrill.
Eat. Drink. Read. The dog came out. Back in their room (occasionally referred to as her room), he looked at her still sleeping and quietly grabbed his workout clothes. Sleeveless Nike shirt, light and airy. Under Armour compression underwear. Baggy Nike shorts. Branding mismatch. Ankle socks. Swiss shoes. Into the bathroom to pull everything on. Out the door with the dog. Walk.
Back in the house, he checked his watch. 7:16 now. Fourteen minutes. Need to go. He put his water bottle in his bag, found his keys.
He heard a stretchy groan from the back of the house. A mumbled call. She’s up. Go see her.
“Good morning,” she said, warm and sleepy. Covers up in the morning coolness, bit of nipple showing on the right side.
He climbed into bed and hugged her. Kissed her.
“Hi,” he said.
More kissing. More hugging. Holding her close though the covers.
She didn’t usually sleep naked. Not like him. But she was this morning. Naked and warm and smelling and tasting like her. His hips started to grind into her leg, though his clothes, through the bedding. He could feel himself start to harden. Push against the compression of his Under Armor. He pulled the comforter down a bit and put her nipple in his mouth.
“Mmmm. You don’t have time,” she said softly.
“There’s time,” he replied.
Mouth on nipple, mouth on mouth, one hand on nipple, one hand moving over her body, drifting south. Finding her neatly kept hairy patch. Slipping his finger over her folds. Mouth back on nipple, finger gyrating.
She moaned appreciatively. Her eyes closed and her lips parted and she felt his touch. His hardness was feeling distorted. Squished by the stretchy fabric. Compressed. But nothing he wasn’t familiar with. He’d had it worse. Much worse.
“You need to go,” she complained half-heartedly.
“I need to do this.”
Her back arched a little more, her legs parted a little more, he reached into a wetter, hotter part of her. Slick. Sexy. Her.
Her hips started to move. That’s a good sign, he thought. Fucking hell, he wanted her. But he wanted to feel her come more. He wanted to start her day with this. The rubbery soles of his sneakers caught on the fabric of the bed covering as he wrapped his legs around hers, pressed his needy sex into her. She pulled the covers down. Exposed herself to him. Allowed him full view of his alter.
He felt her rhythm quicken. Her breathing. Her heartbeat. Her pussy silky under his long fingers. More moaning.
She came. Now it was his turn to moan. More like a groan. Her passion in harmony with his desire.
He kissed her again. God, her taste. Her lips. So soft. So perfectly kissable.
“Thank you,” they both said.
“7:28,” she said.
He hopped out of bed, sprinted to his gear, into his truck, down to the gym. Barely late.
On the exercise bike warming up, he could still feel the hard-on in his shorts.