A&R: Waking Annie {Redman} {MF Rom}
(c) November 2000
Comments welcomes at redman@seductive.com.
Authors' note: This is a continuation of the
lives of Annie and Richard that began with a
called "One Again." It can be read separately, but if
you like this story, you might try that one. That
story can be found at:
ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Redman/One_Again.txt
All of my posted can be found at that site as
well.
Waking Annie
by Redman
I love waking up next to Annie. It's a holiday morning
in late November. Neither one of us has to get up
early. There's a nip in the air in New Orleans and
it's been raining for several days. I can hear the
rain splattering on the concrete driveway outside our
window. The weatherman said yesterday that it was
going to rain all day. That's the best news I've had
in a while. That means I can't rake the leaves today.
Annie is sleeping on her side just inches from me. Her
warm, beautiful backside is pointing toward me like an
invitation to dance. I really should get out of bed
and go brush my teeth, but who could leave such a
lovely woman unmolested?
I snuggle up next to Annie and draw the covers high up
to our necks. I kiss her shoulder and rub my
thickening penis against the cheek of her bottom. This
draws a sleepy murmur from my and she leans back
into my arms.
My upstage hand finds her nearest mammary and I take
it firmly in my grip to waken the day. We sleep naked
together, of course. Every evening Annie wears a
nightshirt to bed and every evening we play the game
of me fussing at her until she takes it off. She keeps
the nightshirt under her pillow in case either of the
kids wakes us up at night.
Annie's are soft and warm in the morning, like
biscuits my used to make. Their doughy texture
completes the image as I mold and knead the one I've
gotten in my grasp. When we first met, Annie's
barely filled the palm of my hand. Now, they overflow
it.
"Good morning, glory!" I whisper in her ear, even
though there's not a chance in the world that I'll
wake our two teenagers this early. Annie and I have
been so long we instinctively make love in
whispers and hushed tones.
Morning glories are Annie's favorite flowers. At
least, until she sees a more beautiful flower. In the
afternoon, it's usually tiger lilies. In the evening,
roses.
Annie is the sort that whatever she sees last is her
favorite. Every good becomes her favorite movie.
Every pretty dress becomes her favorite dress. The
only exception to that rule is men. I know I'm not
that pretty, but Annie's eyes have never strayed.
"Hmm, it feels like you're wide awake this morning,"
she says with a sleepy yawn. I think she's talking
about my erection that's pressing into her velvety
behind. She waggles her butt until she finds a
comfortable place for it and then presses back against
me, making us both a little happier.
Annie is always very affectionate in the morning. She
wakes up feeling horny and it doesn't take much to get
her going. As I run my hands over her body, she begins
to purr almost like our cat. Well, really it's Annie's
cat. Everybody should have at least one pet to shower
their affection on. Annie has a cat. I have Annie.
"Roll over on your tummy," I whisper into her ear
between nibbles.
We both know why. It isn't every morning I finger
Annie to orgasm, but it's often enough it's become an
enjoyable ritual. There are a couple of good reasons
why we like to start our day this way. First, we
don't have to worry about morning breath, not that it
bothers me too much but I know it bothers Annie. She
likes everything to be just so.
And second, Annie has a much more vivid imagination
than I do. I think she wakes up horny in the morning
because she has erotic dreams. As she rolls over on
her stomach and I begin to caress her vagina, she can
lay there and keep those dreams circling in her head,
half awake and half asleep.
Sometimes I wish I could crawl into her head and see
everything she's dreaming. Even after more than twenty
years, I suspect that there are still fantasies she's
never told me about, still things that turn her on
that she's embarrassed to let me discover. I can guess
the things she'll do with ninety-five percent accuracy
and the things she'll say more than eighty percent of
the time. I'm closer to Annie than I could have ever
dreamed it was possible to be with another person.
Even so, there are still times when we are such
intimate strangers.
I run my hand underneath her and grasp her
that's furthest from me. I enjoy playing with Annie's
breast, probably more than she enjoys it, but it's not
the main attraction. My right hand, whose fingers have
begun to dance within her furrow, is on center stage.
Annie's legs are spread wide, making it easier for me
to play with her. My fingers are closing in on her
clitoris. Annie doesn't like direct stimulation early
on, but there comes a point when nothing else will do.
I know we're almost there because I can feel her
tightening the muscles of her buttocks more and more
frequently. My penis feels the thigh it's pressed
against clenching more often. My cheek can feel her
breathing quicken as it's pressed against her back.
My thumb works itself into the warmth of Annie's
pussy, burrowing in like a baby burrows under its
mother for nourishment. I seek the depths of her,
knowing my thumb isn't long enough or enough to
plumb her. Still, it gives her something to
clench on, something to squeeze as she bites her
pillow and bears down against the lovely sensations.
I sense that the time is right for my fingers to more
directly play against her sensitive nub. I rub
against it, tenderly at first and more and more
vigorously as her arousal builds. I kneed her
in time to the dance on her vaginal lips, dragging the
nipple in little circles against the soft cotton of
the sheets.
Sometimes I feel like Annie gets so excited in the
morning I have to hold her down or else she's float
away. I press my cheek against her back and even bite
the skin a bit with tender nibbles, kissing her and
holding her more closely.
Sometime it feels almost like riding a horse, feeling
Annie start to buck against my hand beneath me.
There's such a cadence to it, such a rhythm that it's
like a canter, then a trot, then a gallop.
Annie is galloping now. I'm holding on, riding my
lovely mare with my thumb plunging into her with each
stride. I hear her grunt into the pillow and I hold
her tightly. My ear, pressing into her back, can hear
the heart I love pounding in her chest.
Then the moment arrives. Life is never sharper or
clearer than when the woman I love is underneath me in
orgasm. I feel it begin. Like a stone thrown into a
pond, it starts at her center. She convulses on my
thumb, swallowing it as I try to press it deeper
within her. Her womanhood is suddenly insatiably
greedy. I can't feed it enough, can't fill it enough.
Orgasm is the only selfish moment in Annie's life.
For an eternal moment, she can't get enough and
there's only her need.
I hear Annie scream into her pillow. I almost
against her leg when I hear it.
Annie's orgasm radiates out from her center in
circles. I can feel it ripple out through her back
and down her legs. My own body feeds off her climax,
it passed through the sexually permeable layers of our
skin and energizes me. My hands soak it up, my cheek
and my penis too. As I ride my mare through her
storm, every bit of me is given new life, new energy.
Gradually though, the storm passes. In the end, I
hold my hands still, but my thumb continues to feel
the smaller contractions of her as they slowly
fade.
Suddenly, for the first time since she rolled on her
tummy, I can hear the rain outside again. I hear it
pouring out of the downspout in a rush. In other
spots, large drops splatter against the concrete of
our driveway.
I give her as long as I can to enjoy it, but
admittedly she has me worked up. I continue stroking
her back and rubbing against her thigh until I can't
stand it anymore. Then I crawl behind her and pull up
on her hips until she's on all fours.
Oh, what an exquisite sight my Annie is! Her generous
backside quivering, her slick open and ready.
I hate to spoil the picture, but there's more that I
need than the visual feast. I ease into her slowly,
reveling in her warmth.
Annie groans as I enter her and presses her bottom
back against me. I love to hold her just at the waist
-- just where her pelvis flares -- where I can feel
bone and flesh and sinew. I linger for a moment,
fully buried in my good woman, knowing this is the
apex of our love. My feelings are strongest when I've
just entered her, when my need for her is its most
fierce. She is never more accepting or inviting than
when she first takes me in. It's so tempting to rush
it, but I make it a point to never take this moment
for granted. For me, it's like renewing our vows each
time.
But the hunger for her in my hips won't let me linger
forever. I start to move into her, rocking her hips
back and forth against my own gentle movements. Annie
moans into her pillow and I would too if I had one.
As it is, my mouth just has to gape open and my eyes
roll back in my head. The silky, luxuriant feeling of
Annie all around me has me quivering too.
But I can relax and just enjoy it. That's another
good thing about being so long. Each time
takes as long as it takes. I don't have to worry
about cuming too quickly or taking too long. Over
time, it all averages out. This morning may take less
time than most. I feel my orgasm building in me
already. Annie will take it as the compliment it is.
She's gotten me so excited I can't hold back.
And there's no reason to hold back. Annie is moving
with me fluidly. She can feel my eagerness. I knew
she won't with me again so soon, but there is no
doubt she's enjoying the moment too -- enjoying our
intimate, invigorating morning.
Inexplicably, she seems to open up a little wider, to
be a little warmer, a little wetter. How does she do
that? How does she communicate her readiness without
a word? And so completely!
My body sees her willingness and moves quickly to
respond. I feel the tingling along my urethra and
sink into my woman, filling all of her places
with my essence.
As I cum, I hold onto her ardently, pulling her back
against me as each successive wave washes through me.
Each wave seems to wash me just a little deeper into
Annie; each wave seems to open her up a little more
fully.
Finally, I'm spent. I hear the rain again, outside,
splattering against the concrete. Soon, I have to
pull out of Annie and we can lie again under the warm
covers and doze for another hour or two. Who knows,
we might wake up and do this again before the morning
is through, though at our ages that isn't likely.
For the moment, even as I feel my penis softening and
shrinking, I just want to stay inside Annie a little
longer and listen to the rain falling down outside.
It's the start of another wonderful day with Annie and
I don't want to rush it.
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