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John had been on four planes, three trains, two boats, and a goddamn moped to make it back home tonight, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept in a real bed. He could feel all of his bones individually, and they all ached in their own unique ways. He was bruised, limping, and wearing a shiner on one eye, battered to the point of agony. But still, despite his emotional, mental, and physical exhaustion; all he could think about was what color panties you had on.
It had started as a joke. You’d been watching some television show where the characters used the red-light, green-light system for getting down and dirty, and you’d suggested wearing bright green panties for when you wanted John to wake you up with his cock. Jokes turned into flirting, and flirting turned into an online purchase, and now, you were able to call him to action while you were fast asleep.
He’d been hesitant at first, but after you pinky promised that you’d tell him to stop if you wanted him to stop, he agreed to try it out. When he’d packed his bags to go back to his duty, you’d tucked one of your brand new green thongs into the side pocket, leaving him a clear message for when he came back. Now, as he walked in the house, he would kill to see those bright green frills tucked beneath his sheets, and he was hungry to taste your warm hole with his tongue.
John shed his gear bag and jacket at the door. He desperately needed a shower, but he was too eager, too needy. He made his way directly to your bedroom and peered into the dark. You were sound asleep, half in and half out of the duvet, making soft snuffling sounds against his pillow. You wanted to know the moment that he was home safe. So, there you were, sprawled and waiting for him.
He shucked off his pants and shirt, making himself naked in front of your sleeping form. John was already growing harder, and with each deep, sleepy breath, he hungered more and more to get a taste of your body. His eyes raked over your scantily clad form. The blanket was covering too much of you to tell him what you were wearing, but he knew it wasn't much. Your neck was bare down to your back, and your shapely calves led up to juicy, unclothed thighs. With a careful hand, John slowly tugged the blanket up over your ass, and he prayed to any god who would listen that your panties were garishly green.
The sigh that left his lungs struggled to escape, constricted by his gasping throat as he saw that you were clad in a neon green, crotchless bodysuit. It was so over the top, and such a departure from your cozy, comfy persona that he knew you’d picked it out on purpose, just for him, just for his return.
You snored a little and readjusted yourself, causing Price to step back, not wanting to wake you. But, as you did, the duvet slipped off of you and John could read the words you’d written in black sharpie before you’d gone to bed. Across your belly, just above your panty line, you’d scrawled, “Welcome home!” and added hearts leading down to your freshly shaven pussy.
John felt all of the blood in his enormous body rush to where it was needed: his heavy, throbbing cock.
Your center was uncovered in the crotchless outfit, and your folds gleamed in the dim light of the bedroom. You were wet, perhaps by your own hand earlier in the night, and John bent down to get a closer look. Gingerly, he used his fingers to gently press apart your lips, finding your core warm and ready for him. He let his thick digits slide into position, and he began to slowly massage lazy, easy circles into your walls.
Goddamn you were pliant. Your body’s willingness to cede to his heavy petting made him groan deeply, catching himself so he wouldn’t wake you up. As he pushed his fingers into you, your muscles eased. Usually, they were tight and tense, eager to come and excited to feel his presence. But now, you were asleep, ignorant of his work in your conscious mind, and only your body was available to communicate with him.
So, it did. Your body loosened you, relaxing your walls. It made your groin swell, filling it with blood. It sent him your wetness, letting him know all of his desires were welcome in you. He put his mouth to your clit, suckling on you as gently as he could, daring to taste your sweetness as he fingered you in your sleep. As you became slick enough to fuck in earnest on his hand, he created the most outrageous noises, sticky and milky, playing in your come with greedy joy, licking you over and over again, until he could feel you trembling beneath his mouth. You moaned, and he slowed his efforts, trying to determine if you were truly asleep. You went back to your deep breathing, and John decided it was now or never.
He mounted you like an animal, looming over you like a predator does to its prey, his huge shoulders and triceps bulging as he situated himself on the mattress. His breathing had become labored, and as he dipped the head of his cock into your pulsing hole, he let out a long, ragged sigh of relief.
You moaned again, involuntarily squeezing your walls around him, reacting in the way nature intended, shameless and bold in your sleeping want. You felt like heaven, like the most comforting embrace. And for a man weary with pain, being cradled by you in the soft petals of your flower was like being magically healed. He felt the plump head of his cock drag itself along your core, slipping through your relaxed wetness easily, searching for the bottom of your warm pool, sinking into you like a stone in a still pond, crashing through the silky embrace of your body.
John aimed to fuck you so slowly that you wouldn’t wake up until the very end. He wanted to see how far he could go, and he needed to show you how surely he trusted you. This was something you’d needed from him, and now that he knew how your body would react to his work, he hungered for it, too.
It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy you when you were awake and participating. You were excellent in bed, and you made him feel overcome with ecstasy nearly every time you fucked each other. But, there was something so innocent and honest about your sleeping form. Your unconscious body couldn’t hold itself back. If it was hungry for him, he would know it. Your body would feed itself to him; the ultimate submission. The responsibility and trust you’d given him was immense, and the honor of it felt better than any medal he’d ever pinned to his uniform.
He fucked you a little faster, making an effort not to distract you from your slumber, and he noticed your body was positively flooding your pussy with lubrication. You were about to come, he realized, and he watched, wide-eyed, as it happened.
Your body didn’t tense as it normally did. Instead, you rode your orgasm like a low wave, gently riding across the roiling, tumbling sea that was bursting within you. You nearly wet yourself from the outpouring of your slick, soaking John’s cock and matting the dense hair around his base. You were whimpering sweetly for him in an ancient tongue, one that society had suppressed. It was so natural to hear, and so pure. John reveled in you like Bacchus, slaking his thirst with your come, unable to sate his hedonism with just one taste. He wanted it all.
He tried to hold it together, but he heard himself whimpering above you, struggling to keep himself from following you into the pleasure-filled abyss.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered below his breath. He felt himself wanting to scream out your name, to wake you, to call you to join him in this joyful work, but he buried it somewhere deep in his throat, grunting darkly for you instead with each and every thrust.
Then, you moaned more intensely, and he knew you were stirring awake. He wanted to slow down, to lull you back to sleep, but his body was no longer under his command. It thrust him into you, loose like a hound off-leash, rushing and pounding with a singular purpose.
“John?” You whispered, trying to understand what was happening to you.
“Fuck, m’sorry, love,” he moaned, the words slurred and malformed, “Couldn’t wait. Had to have you. Right fuckin’ now.”
Your mind fed you all the pleasure you’d been missing, slamming into your brain all at once, and he felt the result. You bared down on him harder than you’d ever done before, your pussy clenching around his cock, making it almost impossible for him to move. The wet, supple friction that slipped across his hard rod was just what he needed to come, and you wrenched it from him, stealing it with your unimaginable fury of pleasure.
He gasped, unable to control his reactions,
“Oh! Oh, fuck! I’m… I’m gonna come. Fuck, I’m gonna come.”
You couldn’t say anything; you were blinded by your climax, feeling the waves of euphoria crash into you over and over, washing you in deep, a rapturous sea. John’s cock was so deep within you, making you feel so full, and since he had made you so soft and ready for him, your pleasure hit you as hard as it could.
As he filled you, you heard him beg for something he couldn’t name,
“Please, love… Fuck. Fuck. Bloody hell, please. Please…”
“Come in me, John,” you coaxed him, angling your hips so he could sink himself deeper into your center, “I want to feel you come in me. Please.”
He turned you onto your side and repositioned himself so that he could fuck you as your big spoon, wrapping you in his arms and locking you in place, trapping you against him as he bucked. As he did, he clutched at you cruelly, trying to channel all of his reserved energy into a last-moment’s effort. Now that you were awake, he could slam himself into you with abandon, and you felt him lose control of his movements. He was shaking your whole body, making your bones shudder beneath his huge weight, crafting sticky, popping, slapping noises as he slammed skin into glorious skin. Then, he stuttered in his pounding, and your pussy stretched with the tell-tale throb of his heavy cock as it pulsed from dumping rope after rope of cream into your hole. You could feel it filling you, hot and thick. His eyes were clenched shut, unable to face the unearthly passion you had wrought together.
“Welcome home, baby,” you kissed his hand gently, running your nails along his heavy forearm, earning yourself another tremulous groan.
He smiled at you, riding out his high in your dripping hole,
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”