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 story 
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 stories 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 girl 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 breasts are soft and warm in the morning, like 
biscuits my mother 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 breast 
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 parents 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 movie 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 breast 
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 thick enough to 
plumb her.  Still, it gives her vagina 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 breast 
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 cum 
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 vagina 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 vagina 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 married 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 cum 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 hidden 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.