I peer into the darkness of the bedroom, and see his sleeping form. His arm carelessly slung out, and his face partially obscured by the untidy mess of pillows. As tempting as he looks, there are so many things we have to do today. “Get up, you lazy ass,” I call.

He murmured in complaint and turned his face the other way. “No!”

“I’ve brought your coffee. A large. And some fresh croissants,” I cajole.

Turning his head slightly back towards me, a little more tempted, “You’ve been out already?”

I give him a flash of my nakedness from under my long day jacket, “I slipped out. Now it’s time for a shower. We have to be out of here in an hour.”

“Nope,” he said, “You can’t make me.” He reconsiders “Well, actually you can….,” his voice trails off in invitation.

Grumbling a little, I leave the food and coffee on the bedside table, in offering to the lazy-ass Sunday god. I push off the bedclothes and straddles his rock hard morning wood.

His grin turned into a smirk, “He shoots, he scores, he wins,” and is about to fistpump or 5Five me, until he stops and realises what is going on… “What the fuck?”

I grin and smirk, “That’s not your coffee,” I say, and continue….

He swears and curses, and tries to push me off, though my knees are on his arms and he is forced to struggle with me. He is half asleep, and what I have unexpected done to him, as caught him off guard, as I leave my warmth and wetness all over his nakedness.

I so win!

Once, I’m all done and empty, I jump off him, and quickly scamper to the shower, calling over my shoulder as I run, “You better bring the sheets with you.’

“Dirty fucking wench,” he called out after me, before he gathered up the ruined sheets and runs after me.

He made me pay for being such a dirty minx.