Harley Is A Cuddler

Harley, believe it or not, is a cuddler.

 

Years ago, after we had just slept together for the first time, I remember telling him not to worry, that I wasn’t a cuddler and for him not to feel that he needed to be one just for my benefit.  Harley proceeded to pull me tight against him, wrapping his massive arms around me, and laughing that he didn’t believe me for one second.  I protested that I wasn’t just saying it, that I meant it.  And I was being serious; I really didn’t believe that I was a cuddler.  Much later, I realized that the entire time I was telling Harley I was not a cuddler, I was making zero effort to get away.  I was, in fact, burrowing right into his python grip w a great big satisfied grin.  Harley ended the debate that evening saying it didn’t matter whether I was a cuddler or not – he was.  A few moments later, he added in a whisper it was also great way to keep me naked and close for when he was ready to go again.  I believed him on both levels.  Later, I came to believe that Harley THOUGHT he was pretending to be a cuddler . . . for my benefit.  I think Harley really believes he is not a cuddler, that he holds onto me after we sleep together because he believes I have some level of expectation afterwards . . . and it does have the added benefit of keeping me naked and close for rounds two, three, four, and “oh my God does he ever run down”.  However, Harley will never admit the real truth.  The real truth is that Harley is a cuddler.  I teased him a little bit about it after I recently spent the night until he threatened to spank me (need I point out that I definitely did not stop then).  If wouldn’t admit it from that night – then he will never admit it.

 

Harley was asleep.  The sun was asleep.  It felt like every fucking body was asleep . . . every fucking body but me.  I was awake.  I was wide awake.  Harley was snoring peacefully next to me in the bed.  Normally, his snoring lulls me to sleep.  I guess because Daddy was always a horrible snorer and he could rattle the walls w his snoring.  I learned, as I turned into big girl, that the little girl in me slept better when the big man in the house was snoring.  And Harley was doing his part.  Not Daddy ‘rattle the walls’ loud, but he had decent volume w good consistency.  But it was not working.  His snoring was not lulling me to sleep.  It was pissing me off.  I was jealous.  I wanted to be the one snoring peacefully; well, maybe not snoring, but you get the idea.  Instead, I was wide awake.

 

 I reached behind me and ran my hand gently along Harley’s muscular leg.  He was on his side spooning me.  I am a cuddler.  I stopped pretending a long time ago.  And I enjoy the feeling of Harley next to me.  I ran my hand a little lower between us until I felt his soft length.  I just held him gently in my hand.  We were both naked still.  He had taken me out to dinner and then we had gone for a walk along the beach.  It was a long drive back, but it had been an awesome evening.  We were both tired when we finally got to bed.  We made love, but then we crashed.  In my case, I crashed hard, which was probably why I woke up after just a few hours.  I held his length in my hand, very gently running my fingers along it.  I wanted him inside me again.  Awake, w everyone else in the world asleep, it was hard not to think about the night we had.  It was the perfect romantic evening.  At that time of night, it would have been easy to start re-hashing our history, wondering if the night meant anything to him too, wondering if our relationship would ever lead to anything serious again.  But I did not want to dwell on those things.  I had intentionally starting running my hand along his body because I did not want to think about anything serious right then.  I just wanted to be in the moment.  I just wanted to enjoy the moment.  I was thinking about rolling him over for a change; letting him get a taste of being woken up for more loving when I realized I was not hearing his snoring anymore.

 

I felt him hardening in my hand.  It does not matter how many times I feel him grow hard, I still find it fascinating to feel it when it is happening.  Harley kissed the back of my neck sending chill bumps all down my body.  He moved his arm which had already been holding me close, now alternating his fingers attention between my breasts and my sheath, all the time still nuzzling the back of my neck.  I moved my head down slightly to give him better access.  He grew firmer w his nibbling on my neck and w his hand roaming my body.  His dick grew firmer in my hand as well.

 

 Harley typically tends to take the lead.  He is not bossy or domineering about it.  Being in control is just part of being who he is.  But he seemed to be restricting himself to nibbling my neck and his hand roaming my body.  I started thinking he was waiting to see how I wanted to proceed.  Harley was more accustomed to waking me up, not the other way around.  Me waking him up was not unheard of, I have tried to surprise him in the past.  I think that was why I could sense he was waiting to see what I wanted.  I was not really sure what I wanted though.  It was not like I had put any thought into what I was doing.  The only thing I knew was that I wanted him back inside of me.

 

I turned around to have us facing each other on our sides.  We kissed and I pushed his shoulders down onto the bed giving the hint that I wanted him on his back.  Then I climbed astride of him.  Neither of us spoke . . . not w words anyway . . . our bodies were communicating.  Harley likes his bedroom to be dark.  Sitting back on my knees, my legs astride his waist, I could not make out any of his features.  He was simply a dark shadow.  It was a shame.  I would have loved to have been able to make out his face as I used my hand to guide his manhood to my entrance.  I slipped him in like I was made to order for him.  I stayed mostly upright, leaning forward upon my semi-straightened arms, my hair flowing down my head and forming a curtain around his head.  I rocked my hips up and down along his body, pressing my sensitive spot into him, the pressure of him inside of me and of him against my trigger felt wonderful.

 

Me on top is the best way for me to orgasm w him inside of me.  My body responded to the beauty of our evening and the beauty of this moment.  I no time I could feel an orgasm building within me.  But I wanted something more.  I did not just want to orgasm.  I wanted him to make me orgasm.  I am probably doing a horrible job explaining what I wanted.  I sat back more on my knees, not leaning over him any longer.  I ran my hands along his arms until I found his hands.  I took his hands and placed them on my hips.  Still holding his hands in mine against my hips, I began to rock back and forth again.  Harley understood immediately.  He gripped my hips and began to move me back and forth against him.  Oh, this was perfect, I thought.  He kept the pace slow and steady for the longest while, the two of us simply enjoying our being joined into one.  He must have been able to tell I was nearing my moment, because he increased the pace.  His hands gripped me all the more firmly as he raced me back and forth, my trigger being firmly massaged by the pressure of our bodies against each other.  When I began to cum, he did not release me nor did he stop forcing me up and down along his body.  He kept me riding him hard through wave after wave of my orgasm.  It was awesome!

 

When he stopped me, I leaned forward again to be able to kiss him for all that he was worth. 

 

 “Where do you want me”, I asked him.  I believe those were the first words spoken to that point.

 

He rolled us over, never separating our bodies, never saying a word (our laughter not counting), taking me to my back, w him nestled lovingly between my legs.  Then he began to gently ride me.  I lifted my legs up, my knees bent, my ankles in the air brushing against his side as he rocked to and fro in me.  I rocked my legs and hips in time w his rocking.  It was the greatest feeling.  I imagined his dick deep inside of me slick w the juices from my recent orgasm.  I thought of him pumping me even more full soon w his fluids; his fluids then mixing w mine, inside of me.  At one point, he stopped thrusting into me, while I continued rocking my knees back and forth.  I felt like I was taking him for the ride.  It was like earlier when I had him use his grip on my waist to make my body move.  Now it was my turn to make him cum.  I did not have the strength to rock his entire body, but I could rock my body underneath his.  Again, I suspect I am doing a pitiful job explaining it.  It was awesome though and I loved doing it for him.

 

Like Harley earlier, I kept my pace steady.  I was totally into it when I felt him begin to rock w me again.  He was nearing his moment.  I enjoyed feeling that it was my moving underneath him which brought him to nearly climaxing.  I think he enjoyed it as well because he did not rock w me much, just every now and again.  Mostly, he was letting me do all the work.  I held my pace.  I was going to make this man cum inside of me, I challenged myself silently.  He lowered his head onto my chest and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tight and close.  I tried to rock a little faster without letting it become awkward.  It was his hands squeezing my shoulders, not his breathing, which gave away that his moment was rapidly approaching.  I felt like a racehorse nearing the finish line.  My rider was in perfect synch w my body.  I raced for the finish line.  The more his hands squeezed my shoulders, the more motivated I felt to bring him to his release.  His head buried into my chest, his hands holding my shoulders, his grip suddenly tightened down.  He was exploding inside of me.  I had taken him to the finish line.

 

I loved the bit that followed, and the point of my post, cuddling after sex.  He kissed me.  I could not tell you how many times; enough that I felt well appreciated for what I had done.  Then he lay his head back down on my shoulder.  My arms and legs wrapped around him, hugging him, just as my pussy was hugging his dick which remained deep inside me, filling my entrance, keeping his semen inside me, keeping his juices mixing w my own juices.  Okay, I am going to admit something that I have never told anyone.  A long time ago, I took a vial and put some of the aftermath of our love into it.  I keep it hidden in my jewelry box.  I jokingly told Harley once, but he thought I was just joking.  I ran my nails along his back the way I knew he liked.  It was a perfect ending to a perfect evening.  After a few minutes, w his steady breathing, and not moving, I realized he was sound asleep. 

 

Okay, this was new . . . ?

 

I continued to gently scratch his back while he slept on top of me.  I do not know as I have ever had a lover go to sleep on top of me while he was still inside of me before.  I did know that Harley had never gone to sleep while still inside of me.  I decided I kind of liked it.  It’s not something I would want to happen often, but it was a nice feeling.  I enjoyed him being that relaxed and that comfortable w me.  And it was hard for the moment not to feel intimate w his dick still inside me.

 

Harley was asleep.  The sun was asleep.  It felt like every fucking body was asleep . . . every fucking body but me still.  I was awake.  Except now I was kind of okay w it. 

 

I must have gone to sleep, because it was not as dark in the room.  Harley was still inside of me.  He had moved his arms some, one of them was now stretched down along our sides instead of holding my shoulder.  I was surprised that I remained pretty comfortable really.  I was in no special hurry to lose my Harley-blanket.  Looking back, I wonder if I would have felt the same if he had slipped out of me.  I dunno.  That is hard to tell because it was not what happened.  I do not know if I went back to sleep or if I simply lay there is some semi-trance. 

 

What I remember is feeling him wake up.  He quickly began to apologize for literally going to sleep on me.  I stopped him, telling him that I really enjoyed having him exactly where he was.  I told him that I could have slapped his ass for a change if I had wanted him to move.  The entire time we were having this discussion, I was still firmly impaled on his length.

 

Looking down into my eyes, he asked if I was in a hurry to be anywhere that morning.   I took this to be Harley-speak for his wanting to get up but his wanting to say it was because I wanted to get up. When I saw that the sun was coming up, I had fully expected Harley to jump out of bed the moment he was awake and no longer inside of me.  I told him “no”, quickly adding that I understood he had things he needed to do before he went to work.  His having to work the next day is why we had not stayed in a motel along the beach the night before.  I knew his shift was in a few hours and I knew Harley was not the type to lie around in bed.  Then he surprised me.  And this is my final proof for why I say Harley is a cuddler.  Lie around in bed is exactly what we did.  He slid off me, pulling his dick out of me.  It was a strange sensation suddenly being deprived of the fullness he had given me.  Then he lowered his head to kiss me.  It was at this point, after he kissed me, that I expected him to jump out of bed.  Instead, without saying a word, he turned me to my side, wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight, and went right back to sleep, my back to his front.

 

I put my hands on his forearms and slid peacefully into sleep my own self.

 

I was in heaven.