Covered in Puppy Snoring

The moonlight spilled through the sheer linen curtains, painting silver streaks across the king-sized bed where Denise lay sleeping. I’d always preferred sleeping naked, a primal comfort that stripped away the unnecessary layers of daily life. It wasn’t that I found clothing constricting, but rather that it represented a barrier, a separation from the pure, unadulterated sensation of skin against skin. And Denise, bless her soul, seemed to share my appreciation for this uninhibited intimacy. Most nights, we drifted in a tangled heap, sharing a single arm around her waist, the warmth of our bodies a silent promise of connection. But those moments were fleeting, brief interludes in a sea of restless sleep. Last night, however, something shifted.

It began around midnight, a tiny, insistent rumble that pierced through the quiet darkness. Denise was snoring, a surprisingly high-pitched sound for someone so voluptuous. It wasn’t the comforting, rhythmic breathing of deep slumber; it was the frantic, desperate sound of a little puppy caught in a trap. I shifted slightly, my bare feet brushing against the cool cotton sheets, before sliding over to her side. She was facing away from me, completely nude, lost in the oblivion of sleep. An inexplicable surge of heat flooded through me as I instinctively reached out, my hand finding its way beneath the cover. The soft cotton yielded easily, revealing her delicate form bathed in the ethereal glow of the moon. I paused, savoring the unexpected intimacy, the blatant invitation. Her muff, plump and rosy, rested just below her navel, a silent testament to her arousal. It was a provocative sight, a tiny beacon of pleasure in the vast darkness.

Without a second thought, I began to explore. My fingers traced the delicate curve of her body, feeling the subtle rise and fall of her breathing. It wasn’t a hurried, demanding exploration; it was a slow, deliberate dance of discovery. I gently rubbed her muff, feeling the slight tremor that rippled through her flesh, hoping to coax her into a more active position. But she remained oblivious, lost in her own world of dreams, her snoring continuing unabated.

Then, I shifted my focus, seeking something more profound. I slid my hand further under the cover, my fingertips brushing against the velvety softness of her labia. It took a moment to find it, a tiny, exquisitely sensitive point that throbbed with anticipation. Gently, carefully, I began to massage it, letting my fingers glide over its surface, teasing and tantalizing. Denise was incredibly ticklish, a secret she usually guarded jealously. Normally, I could only manage a brief, hesitant touch with the full palm of my hand, a fleeting moment of pleasure before she rolled over in protest. But now, in this vulnerable state, stripped bare and lost in sleep, I could fully indulge in her delicate sensitivity. Her small, pink bud seemed to throb with a life of its own, responding to my touch with increasing urgency.

The anticipation built within me, a potent mix of lust and desire. My cock swelled, hardening with each passing moment, a heavy weight pressing against my thigh. It was a primal urge, a deep-seated need that demanded release. I slowly pulled my hand away, licking my middle finger with a slow, deliberate motion. The taste of her aroused flesh lingered on my tongue, fueling my senses and intensifying my pleasure. I slipped my hand back under the cover, resuming my exploration with renewed vigor. My middle finger moved methodically through her entrance, feeling the exquisite sensation of her opening, welcoming my touch. It wasn't a forceful entry, but a gentle invasion, a silent promise of more to come.

As she responded, her body began to relax, her muscles loosening, releasing the pent-up tension of the night. A warm, viscous fluid began to flow freely, a sweet nectar of pleasure that saturated her senses. The scent was intoxicating, a heady blend of arousal and innocence. The rhythm of her release synced with my own, creating a symphony of sensations that overwhelmed my senses. It was an incredible experience, a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss. The world faded away, leaving only the two of us, lost in the depths of our shared pleasure.

Minutes melted into an eternity as we continued our dance of intimacy. The sheets became damp, clinging to our bodies, a testament to the intensity of our passion. The air grew thick with anticipation, charged with electricity. Finally, Denise stirred, a small sigh escaping her lips. I leaned closer, whispering, “I hope you were having a wet dream.” Her response was a groggy, mumbled, “Uh.” It was a confirmation, a silent admission of the pleasure she had experienced.

I told her that I had been feeling her off as she slept, that I had never been so horny in all my life. The words felt inadequate, unable to fully express the depth of my desire. I pulled the sheets back, revealing her naked form, glistening with moisture. "See how wet you are," I murmured, my voice a low rumble against her ear.

She willingly accepted the package, her body relaxing further as she settled back against me. We moved in unison for a few moments, a slow, deliberate embrace that deepened our connection. Then, I whispered, "I have no intention of finishing now. Go back to your dreams and tomorrow you will be fully conscious when I take you." My words were a promise, a declaration of my unwavering desire. “Good night dear, I love you!”

As I slipped out of bed, leaving her to her slumber, I couldn't help but smile. The night had been filled with a potent blend of lust, desire, and explicit pleasure. The memory of her arousal, the sensation of her release, would linger in my mind long after the morning light had broken.

Now, nine o'clock in the morning, the first rays of sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the room. I lay in bed, waiting for Denise to wake, eager to repeat the experience. For now, I would simply allow myself to bask in the afterglow of our shared pleasure, savoring the lingering scent of arousal and anticipating the next encounter. Snore all the more my sweet.

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