Man Interrupted

by Dan StrawberryHall 7 months ago in erotic

An Erotic Flash Fiction Story

Man Interrupted

Is there anything better than an afternoon nap on a lazy Sunday afternoon?

Ok, a few things, but not many.

It’s pure luxury. You’ve allowed yourself to relax after a long week of work, you’ve had an active, fun-filled Saturday so there’s no guilt about taking Sunday slow. You got up late, you’ve had a gigantic Sunday brunch, then what bliss it is to sneak off upstairs to climb into a warm, waiting bed for an hour or so.

And we all know what an afternoon nap also entails, don’t we?

Don’t pretend you don’t, we all do it. And it was that thing that popped into my head when Paul yawned demonstratively and announced he was off for a nap. It gave me an idea. I nodded to Paul; I managed to keep the smile off my face.

I waited downstairs for Paul to get into bed. I imagined him taking off his jumper, then stepping out of his jeans. You can’t wear jeans to bed, or that’s the excuse, anyway. I pictured him climbing under the covers, getting himself comfy. I waited a few more minutes, then I sneaked up the stairs.

I trod carefully; I placed my feet on the outside of each step so they wouldn’t creak. I crept along the landing as quietly as I could, my heart beating fast from excitement already.

Paul hadn’t closed the bedroom door all the way, perfect. It was open, just by a crack, but that was good enough, it was all I needed.

I shuffled forwards as carefully as I ever have. I took tiny steps, I stopped with each footfall to listen, I tried to breathe as quietly as I could.

Paul made a low grunting noise as I reached the doorway and my heart leapt up to my throat. I knew it. Who can resist it before a nap? There’s no better way to drift off to sleep.

I knelt down low. I put a hand on the door as gently as I could, I felt naughty, I liked it. I applied pressure and eased the door open a touch wider. I stopped before it drew Paul’s attention. I tried to steady my breathing.

I pushed again and again, opening the door a little wider each time, until I could fit my head in the gap and see Paul in our bed.

His face was turned away from me. I could see what he was doing though. I could hear it too. Delight surged within me. Heat blossomed over my face and chest. He was making quiet, soft moaning sounds as his hand moved briskly back and forth under the bedcovers.

I sat and watched, naturally. I tried to take in every detail, how his hand moved faster and faster, how he twitched, how his noises became more charged with need and pleasure.

Paul turned his head to face me and I froze in panic. Shit. I tensed all over, my chest tightened. Damn, I’d ruined it already.

But then I saw Paul’s eyes were closed. Relief flooded me. I was saved, He was lost to whatever dirty little vignette was running through his mind.

I let the breath out I’d been holding. I knew I didn’t have long now; I couldn’t just sit and watch. Paul was growing frantic, he was shifting, he was starting to groan, he was close. I knew those signs well. He could open his eyes at any second and see me too; no, I had to move. I stood up and shoved the door wide open.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shouted in mock outrage.

Paul’s eyes flew open. He jumped like he’d been shot. He stared at me, his mouth agape, a look of the purest, red-handed guilt spread over his face. It made me want to laugh, badly, he looked mortified, but I managed to keep up my pretence of indignation.

“Is this what you call having a nap?” I shouted. “Tired, are you? Or was this just an excuse to come up here and rub one out like a mucky, furtive little teenage boy?” Hah! As if I didn’t do exactly the same before a nap. As if everyone doesn’t.

“No, I just…” Paul scrambled for words. “It… helps…” He looked so scared, confused, conflicted. He looked terrified, the poor fucker, but he was tense too, like he was on the verge of coming and was desperately trying to hold himself back. I assumed he thought I’d be further enraged if he climaxed in the middle of me shouting at him.

I couldn’t keep it up anymore though, especially at the thought of that. I burst into laughter; I ran and bounded up onto the bed. “You daft fucker, you think I’m serious?” I dragged the bedcovers back. “Come on, show it to me.”

Paul grasped the covers, he tried to keep them over himself. He still looked confused, panicked, like a startled rabbit in the headlights, one that was caught doing something it shouldn’t be doing.

I had two hands free though, he only had the one, the other still holding his prick like he was trying to protect it, and I tore the covers back. His thick, heavy cock was stiff and standing to attention. He was so hard it looked like it was straining in his hand. The head of it was a livid purple colour.

Paul looked horrified as I stared at his exposed prick, like he’d been caught committing some terrible crime. He tried to hid it with his other hand.

I burst into laughter again, but heat surged and throbbed through me too. Watching him wank had been hot, especially because he didn’t know I was there, it had made me feel like a pervert, which apparently I liked. And now the site of his bulging, swollen cock clasped in his hand was too much to take. I couldn’t resist.

“Come on then, let me finish you off.”

“What?... You want to…”

Paul was still struggling to catch up, bless him, as I fell between his legs. I pushed his hand off his cock before he could stop me. I wrapped my fingers tightly around the base of it, I popped him into my mouth before he could resist.

I sucked hard, I slid my lips slowly over the rim around the head of Paul’s engorged prick, and he moaned so loud it made my pussy tighten.

I dropped my head lower, I took more of him into me, I felt all the tension and resistance flood out of him. I moved my mouth lower, my hand up to meet it, he collapsed beneath me. He moaned even louder.

I’d only been there a matter of minutes, this had all happened so fast, but I felt ridiculously turned on already. Maybe because I was being so bad, maybe because I’d never caught Paul wanking before. He was close, I knew he was desperate for release, and I found I was desperate to get him there too. I wanted to feel and hear my man come.

I moved my mouth and hand together, I did it quickly, with determination and finesse. I did everything Paul loved, all at once. I squeezed him as tightly as I could with my fingers and my lips, I swirled my tongue around him in my mouth, hitting all the sensitive spots, I cupped his balls lightly and tickled them.

Paul didn’t stand a chance. He groaned, he bucked beneath me, he trembled. It felt like he was trying to hold his orgasm back, to relish my mouth and hands for as long as he could, but who was he kidding? I felt his body tense, he roared out, the tension broke, and he came in my mouth.

I kept pumping my hand and bobbing my head up and down, and Paul pulsed over and over, he spurted gushes of hot, salty come into my mouth. I decided I’d put on a little show for him, why not, I was so turned on it’d be fun for me too.

I swallowed the first of Paul’s come, I made an audible noise as I did it, so he’d know – he loved it when I swallowed.

Then I took his prick out of my mouth and I held it against my face. He came across my cheek, my nose, my forehead, he gazed up at me in wonder, I laughed uproariously as he covered me.

Paul’s groans came louder, more intense, he was coming harder. I moved my head back and forth to really get his come all over me, I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue, I made a real display of myself, a real mess. He kept coming and coming for me, he made so much noise, I felt like a filthy, glorious sex goddess.

I let Paul spend most of his climax on my face, then I took him back into my mouth. I sucked him hard to give him every last ounce of pleasure I could.

When he eventually fell back, exhausted, absolutely drained, I let go of his cock. I sat up and grinned at him, I must have looked a hell of sight with his come all over me.

“You want a towel to clean up with?” he offered.

“No, I’m good.” I got up. “I’ll deal with this; you get on with your nap.”

Paul looked up at me like I was an actual angel. Although I suspect angels don’t usually have come all over their faces. Not the one’s upstairs anyway. “You can return the favour next Sunday,” I said as I slipped out of the room.

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Dan StrawberryHall
Dan StrawberryHall
Read next: Titty Tote Time
Dan StrawberryHall

Hi, I'm Dan.

I'm one of the Strawberry Hall writers. We’re a group of friends who write erotic romance and erotica together. You can find our published work on Amazon here:

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