My friend woke me up with his cock

The exhaustion of the day had been a relentless tide dishes piled like modern art, the pool choked with leaves, deadlines snapping at our heels. By dinner, we were hollowed-out shells of ourselves. Max and Josie vanished into the shadows of their room, leaving Josh and me tangled in the dim glow of the living room.

“You’re practically snoring,” he teased, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my drowsy bones.

I arched a brow, letting my thighs fall open just enough for the lace of my panties to peek from under my skirt. “Thought we could have alone time,” I purred, the words thick with promise.

Josh’s laugh was warm, but his eyes darkened. “You’re dead on your feet.”

“Whores don’t choose sleep over sex,” I slurred, half-delirious, but he only knelt beside me, his palm cupping my cheek.

“Then let me wake you up properly,” he murmured, lips brushing my forehead. “Tell me how.”

I didn’t hesitate. “With your cock.”

His grin was feral. “Done.”

The dream was a hazy thing, all smoke and whispers, but the scent of his cologne dragged me back to the surface—spiced and possessive. The room was a blur of shadows, but his weight was real, pinning me to the couch, his hips grinding against mine. His hardness pressed into my thigh, and my hand found him instinctively, stroking the length of him until he groaned into my neck.

“Fuck,” he hissed, fingers slipping under the hem of my panties, teasing the wetness he found there. “Already soaked for me.”

I arched, my body singing under his touch, the exhaustion burned away by the raw need coiling in my belly. He hooked his fingers into the lace, peeling it down my thighs, and then his mouth was on me, hot and relentless. His tongue flicked my clit, lapped at my folds, delved inside each stroke a lightning bolt. I writhed, my hands fisting in his hair, grinding against his face like a woman starved.

He pulled away just as my orgasm teetered on the edge, leaving me gasping. “You bastard,” I choked, but he silenced me with a kiss, my own taste thick on his lips. His hands pinned my wrists above my head, his body caging me.

“I want to feel you scream,” he growled, and then he was inside me, filling me in one brutal thrust. The stretch was exquisite, my body clamping around him, every nerve alight. He moved with a rhythm that bordered on violence, each snap of his hips dragging a moan from my throat.

“Faster,” I begged, nails raking his back. “Harder god, just ruin me”

He obeyed, his pace turning punishing, the couch creaking beneath us. My orgasm hit like a freight train, my back bowing off the cushions as pleasure tore through me. But he didn’t stop—just flipped me onto my knees, yanking my hips back onto his cock with a snarl.

The second penetration was a shock of white-hot bliss, his hands gripping my ass, spreading me wider. “This is what you wanted,” he panted, slamming into me, the slap of skin echoing in the dark. “To be filled.”

I was mindless, chanting his name, begging for his cum, my body a live wire. When he finally spilled inside me, hot and thick, I came again, my walls milking him through every pulse.