Monday

It’s Monday
So I know you know
What that statement means:
The blare of alarm
The blinding sun
Oh fuck me
Time for work.
But what you don’t know
As I’m stretching out
Trying to wake myself up
In a jumble of sheets I
Somehow wrapped around my limbs,
Is what happens next
On this particular Monday

Which is rather spectacular.

You see
That alarm makes its shrieking sound
And I slap it with a grunt,
But then Maxwell slithers up behind me.
He buries his lips
In the crook of my neck
And despite the tangle of the sheets,
He’s found his way in
Hard cock against my ass
As his fingers find my clit,
And I know in about
Five seconds
That this Monday isn’t going to be
Like that.

Also, that I won’t need coffee.

“Happy Monday, baby,” he says,
Fingers massaging my swollen clit
Before he slips them down and inside of me.
“Mmmm,” he says,
As he props himself up,
Sweeps aside my hair
And bites the back of my neck.
“Hi,” I murmur,
Because he’s thrusting fingers in and out
Cock rolling up against them
From his position behind me,
And I wonder how the sun
Can be so painfully blinding
But the ache in me so good.

Maxwell knows what he wants on a Monday

So he gathers my hair in his hand
And tugs it, hard
While he bites my neck again
And shoves his cock inside.
I’m awake, so awake,
He’s buried to the hilt
Just listening to me breathe.
“Good morning,” he says.
I arch back my hips
Because words are lost on me right now.
He sweeps fingers over my clit
And then he starts to move
Really move
Driving hard and deep.

Pleasure hits me brighter than the sun.

I whimper when I come
And Maxwell holds me tight
Fucking me so hard
It’s as if he’s been away for years,
Though he’s been in my bed all night.
I wish I could describe
How hard I’m shaking
When he thrusts in,
Groans
And fills me with his heat.
It’s the best kind of caffeine,
Revving us both up
As we lay here,
Panting.

I’d tell you I hate Mondays but I’d be lying

Because we stay there for a while
His fingers sliding up my stomach
Lightly stroking my skin
Teasing my nipples,
His kisses playing over my neck
While the juices of our Monday morning
Slip out of me and over us,
Just before the snooze alarm
Starts to scream.
Maxwell leans over me,
Turns it off,
Runs his hand along my side
And plants a kiss on my cheek,
Then says again,
“Happy Monday.”

And I’ll tell you—yes it is, indeed.