I have been seeing Peter off and on for about 3 months now, and this past weekend, he took me to his family beach house in Nantucket. We hung out with some of his childhood buddies on Saturday night, and got pretty tipsy.
I awoke the next morning to Peter’s hand between my legs. Good morning!
I rolled over and started kissing him, feeling his cock against my thigh. Mmmm, I love morning sex.
Peter pulled his clothes off and rolled over onto his back, dragging me on top of him. He slipped my nightie (bought especially for this trip!) over my head and cupped my breasts in his hands. The early morning light was bright on his face, and his eyes looked glazed over with pleasure. I guided him inside of me and pressed myself against his palms, so that I was at the perfect 45-degree angle.
One reason the sex with Peter is so good is because not only does he last long enough for me to finish, but he doesn’t need me to bounce up and down on him like a damn pogo stick in order to stay in the game. My ex used to sometimes get soft if I used a “grinding” motion on top of him for too long (“It just feels so meh, Lexi,” he used to tell me. Dick), but it’s like with Peter, because he knows it feels good to me, it automatically feels good to him.
I was like putty in his hands by the time I finished, and Peter flipped me on my back, and drove into me, pounding my pussy until his mouth dropped open and he groaned. Mission Accomplished.
After we showered, Peter suggested we make iced coffee and go for a walk on the beach. Um, perfect morning or what?
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