Christmas Morning

The Sun had not yet risen when I stir, the first light of Christmas morning filtering softly through the sheer curtains. I keep my eyes closed, savouring the warmth of the woman beside me. To wake here, with her on this day of all days, draws an involuntary smile to my lips. Our moments together, whether fierce and unrestrained as last night or tender as now, nestled against one another, never cease to enthral me.

I stretch a leg carefully, not wishing to disturb the fragile cocoon of stillness, but she's twitching nonetheless. She's such a light sleeper, just like I am. Her hand slides across the mattress to rest upon my hip.

“Are you awake?” she murmurs.

“Barely,” I whisper back.

“Mmm.” She shifts a little closer, her bottomt so delightfully soft and hot against my groin, her thigh tucking possessively above mine. I brush her hair aside and press a trail of kisses along her neck and shoulder.

“Good morning, love.”

“Morning.” Her arm curls back to find my hand. My fingers graze the folds on her belly. Folds that used to fill her with shame but that I taught her to appreciate. I had asked her once, after our first night, how she could ever feel embarrassed when our bodies seemed to have been made for each other. I told her about the sort of freedom one could truly find when willingly renouncing all fear and trust that the other will love you no matter what. With me, she had discovered it could. I coaxed open desires she hadn’t dared name, and with me she feels finally liberated in surrender, in spite of her rolls and folds.

“Do you know what I dreamt of?” I ask softly.

“What?”

“The way you looked bent over my knee.”

Heat prickles through her at my words. She hadn’t dreamt of it herself, but the thought of it now... the sharp edge of discipline blurred with the smooth ache of pleasure, makes her bite her lip. It still feels a bit wicked, even absurd, but the way it ignited us both left no room for denial.

I press closer, my hardening cock nudging against the curve of her backside.

“What did you like most?” She asks, voice barely audible.

Her hand skims slowly over my hip.

“Most?” I muse, before curling my fingers into the bone just where she craves it. “Your bottom bared for me. The way you squirmed on my knee… rubbing your clit against me.”

Her breath catches, and I tease a fingertip lower, just brushing the depth of her hairy triangle.

“The sound of my hand striking you. The cry you gave. And when I smacked your cunt...” my fingers slip even deeper, parting her. She opens easily, sheets falling aside. “... did you like that?”

“Yes,” She breathes, shameless now. Whatever doubts she had about spanking, that fierce strike against the very centre of her had undone her completely. I slide two fingers inside, and she moans into the pillow.

“You’re soaked already,” I growl softly. “Dripping from nothing more than my words. I love how easily you melt for me, my sweet love.”

She presses back against me, lifting her leg over my thigh to open herself wider. I hook my arm beneath her and pull her partly atop of me, fingers plunging deep, my other hand clamping firmly over her breast. My mouth sears kisses into her shoulder as I'm  driving her mad.

“Oh, my…”

I withdraw, only to stroke fast over her swollen clit. She gasps, body jolting.

“Spread wider. Let me see you.” 

She obeys, shameless in her display, as I thrust inside her again, rougher this time. I slick my wetness over her bud, rubbing it mercilessly until she writhes.

“Fuck!” She cries, hips bucking.

“Stay open. Don’t move.” I hold her tighter, teasing her with that devilish rhythm... fingers dipping deep before withdrawing to slap her soaked cunt with a sharp, wet sound.

“Oh… oh, yes!”

“You like that, don’t you?” My voice is a low growl at her ear.

“Yes,” She whimpers, unable to deny me.

The next strike comes harder, then my fingers spear deep, dragging a cry from her throat. I smack her again, then rub fiercely over her clit while biting into the tender flesh of her shoulder.

“Come for me,” I command.