Bambi Will Have to Wait

Today is opening day for deer hunting in our state.  As Chris has the day off, he’d originally planned to get up at the crack of dawn to join the thousands of other orange-clad warriors in the woods to bring home food for the winter.  We had gotten to bed a little later than usual, having stayed up late to chat online with some new friends in a different time zone, and he decided against setting the alarm so I (and he) could sleep a little later, allowing the sun to wake him up a touch later in the morning.

I woke up restless while the sky was still pretty dark in the east, and Chris was sleeping like a hibernating bear in January.  After very briefly considering the option of rolling over and getting a little more shut-eye, it struck me that maybe I wanted some.  Was the feeling for real? I let the sensual lascivious thought bounce around in my brain, back and forth, up and down, till it settled a a few feet lower in a different body part of my body.  Yep, no doubt about it, for whatever reason that I can’t always explain sometimes I just get really horny all of a sudden, and this was one of those times.

So off came my nightie as I snuggled up to my slumbering husband, who was nude as usual and lying on his back–how convenient.  I touched myself briefly and found I was as swollen and moist as I’d ever been, and I knew I couldn’t wait another minute.  Tentatively I reached down to his penis, wondering if I’d be able to arouse him while half asleep.

I needn’t have worried.  My fingers made their way down to his belly button, where they met the engorged tip of the longest hardest erection I’d ever seen.  Doesn’t the boy ever lose his hard-on?  I mean, does he sleep all night every night with his cock sticking up like that?

No matter.  After a total of perhaps two seconds of my touch he was wide awake and groping in my direction.  Poor guy seemed a little disoriented, maybe still dreaming about waiting stealthily in his tree stand and getting a sex-crazed ten-point in his sights, or maybe zeroing in on a deer through the scope of a high powered rifle from 300 yards away, holding the gun steady as a rock while he took precise aim and exhaled slowly.  Patience and accuracy are everything.

At any rate, his aim was pretty bad right now as he pawed over my tingling tits and started rubbing his penis against my navel, and how could he possibly have forgotten where to find my clitoris?  This would never do.  So I wordlessly rolled him on his back, grabbed his lips between my teeth in a rough Good Morning kiss, and rubbed my pussy up and down on his horizontal shaft.  Mmmm…

While a little flip of my fingers I shifted that shaft to its full vertical position, and joyfully impaled myself on its twitching rigidity.  As I rode Chris up and down, grinding my clit gleefully and wantonly against his quivering body and relishing the dreamy driving penetrations into my depths, I felt the warm waves of satisfaction begin to radiate from my core.  The gentle lapping of these pre-orgasmic waves grew in intensity:  building, building, rocking, pulsing and coursing throughout my body just beneath the surface of my naked skin.

Finally my lover reached up with his lips to my eager nipples, bit down gently, rolled me around with his tongue, and then drew me into his mouth in a powerful suckle that pulled the air right out of my chest and made me gasp for oxygen as the longed-for powerful tidal waves of climax finally roared their way through me.  My rutting movements became erratic, my pelvis moving over and onto and along his exquisite phallus with a mind of its own, finding a new place inside my vagina every half minute that needed attention and then rubbing his dick there until yet another orgasm seized me, six, seven eight times, who’s counting anyway it just felt soooo gooood…

With a remarkably coordinated movement Chris rolled us together so I was on my back like a missionary lady and he was driving into me, relentlessly pounding my womanhood like a man possessed, or more like a wild buck pummeling a doe in heat, snorting and pawing and humping and then exploding in a spasm of power and release, filling me, flooding me with his seed, owning me as I joined him in yet another climax, leaving both of us panting and shuddering in the pale light of the gray eastern horizon.

Several rifle blasts could be heard in the distance, signaling the presence of the more conscientious (and successful) hunters in our neighborhood woods.  Meanwhile my own hunter murmured a hoarse I love you, Angela, withdrew his own spent largebore shotgun from its target and snuggled beside me.

Another successful hunt.  Bambi would just have to wait till later.

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