Daddy's Sleepless Morning Tease

The heat of the summer hung heavy in the air, thick and cloying, even within the confines of our bedroom. It clung to the silk of my nightgown, a pale lavender that strained a little across my ample chest, showcasing the generous swell of my breasts. Honestly, it was a ridiculous garment, a hand-me-down from my aunt that had seen better days, but it was undeniably comfortable, especially during the dog days when sweat felt like a second skin. And yes, it was ugly, a bit too big and far too sleeveless, leaving my substantial breasts exposed to the world. Still, there was a certain undeniable charm to its audacity, a brazen disregard for style that suited my own spirit.

Dr. Daddy, my husband, my anchor, my everything, had slept soundly, oblivious to the relentless heat. He woke before his alarm, a rare occurrence for the man who considered mornings a personal affront. He stretched languidly, the muscles in his broad back rippling beneath his worn t-shirt, and then his gaze fell upon me, a slow, assessing appraisal that sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

“That nightgown,” he drawled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my core. “It’s a disaster. Looks like you’re about to explode out of it.”

A playful smile tugged at my lips. “You know me too well, darling.” I shifted slightly, letting my ample breasts spill a little further over the top of the garment, reveling in the scandalous exposure. The scent of his cologne, a potent mix of sandalwood and leather, filled my senses, a heady invitation to the delights that awaited.

He moved with deliberate grace, his hands sliding across my chest, his fingertips tracing the curves of my breasts. The simple touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, a delicious tingle that made me purr involuntarily. He moved his hand lower, pinching my nipples with surprising tenderness, a slow, deliberate pressure that built with each passing second. The pleasure was immediate, primal, and utterly addictive. “I love it when you pet me like that,” I whispered, my voice husky with desire. “Long, light strokes.”

He continued his exploration, his hands gliding from my neck down to my stomach, lingering over my breasts and nipples. Each touch was an exquisite torture, a tantalizing tease that left me begging for more. Occasionally, he’d pinch my nipples with a little more force, pushing me closer to the edge of ecstasy. It wasn't the best time for me, not with the demands of the day looming, but the anticipation was almost unbearable. I yearned for the release, the complete surrender to the pleasure he offered.

“You want a blow job?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

He didn’t answer, simply continued his ministrations, the rhythm of his touch intensifying as if he’d anticipated my request. I assumed he wasn’t ready, not yet, but the unspoken invitation hung heavy in the air. I responded by running my hands over his chest and stomach, tickling his nipples and giving them a good pinch. Then, with a surge of boldness, I stroked down to his boxers, my fingertips brushing against the taut expanse of his thighs. To my surprise, I felt a hard, insistent tension, a powerful build-up that suggested he was far from a passive participant. This was no gentle morning wood; this was a full-blown eruption of desire.

“Hmm… maybe you’re right,” I murmured, a wicked glint in my eyes. “Maybe you ARE on board with my oral offer.”

I eased his boxers down, the material sliding away to reveal the magnificent sight of his erect cock, a thick, muscular column of flesh that promised untold pleasure. He watched me, his gaze intense, possessive, making me feel like I was being slowly consumed by his desire. The look he gave me was a silent command, a promise of exquisite domination. I leaned over, gently placing the flat of my tongue along his shaft, feeling the heat radiate through my lips. He groaned softly, a low, guttural sound that sent shivers down my spine. Then, with a swift movement, he swept my hair from my face, his fingers tangling in my long, dark tresses. Encouraged, I licked around the head, dipping into the slit every so often, savoring the salty taste of his arousal.

Swirling my tongue around the tip, I slowly, steadily bounced my mouth on his rigid cock. The scent was intoxicating, a primal blend of musk and virility that overwhelmed my senses. Firmly, I drew my palms up the inside of his thighs until my fingers stroked his heavy balls, cupping them in one warm hand. Then, with my other hand, I moved to the base of his cock, circling my fingers into a makeshift cock ring, securing it in place with my hand in an OK sign. I took his cock in my plump lips, feeling the powerful throbbing of his arousal beneath my tongue.

He slid into the warm wetness of my mouth over and over, his magnificent cock swelling and becoming rock hard. I grabbed the lower part of his shaft in a fist, stroking him firmly up and down, adding a slight twist as I bobbed my head down to meet my hand. I heard his breath hitch, his hips beginning to move as he fucked my mouth, desperate for release.

His fingers tangled in my hair as he drove his cock down my throat, expertly controlling the rhythm and depth. I held him steady in the OK sign, massaging his cock with the flat of my tongue, wiggling my tongue as the only movement I could manage while he held my head captive. His heavy breathing and whimpers increased with the bucking of his hips. Then, his delicious cum filled my mouth like hot, melted butter, a torrent of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm me. I swallowed and licked, sucking him dry until there was nothing left.

He groaned as he dropped back onto the pillows, limp and satisfied, his body radiating heat and exhaustion. He pulled me to his side, and we cuddled together, lost in the aftermath of our shared pleasure. The kisses were leisurely, languid, a slow, deliberate exploration of our intertwined bodies. But even as the demands of the day and the relentless march of time began to intrude, we remained lost in the blissful memory of our encounter. The heat of the summer still clung to the air, but now it felt less oppressive, more comforting, infused with the lingering scent of desire and the promise of more to come.

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