As the clamor of the morning alarm sounds, Terri first became aware of the soft sounds of sleep. Her dazed mind tries to grasp something solid with movement behind her distracts her. A second later the noise halts in mid-cry. She sighs softly and relaxes, wondering idling about getting up for the day. Again her thoughts are interrupted. Feather light touch. It sears through her. A kiss on her shoulder trails its way up to her neck and ear as his firm hands roll her purposely to her back, her side pressed against him. Terri moans brokenly as he runs his hands down her nude body, pushing the thick comforter away from her skin. She feels her nipples harden.

"Ooh, look at those breasts. Perfect nipples," Howie's deep voice rumbles near her cheek. She shuddered, as once again he knew her thoughts. Gently he plays with them, pulling, tweaking, and massaging, until they are almost the center of her world.

A soft breath from him and she can picture the soft smirk on his face through her sleep heavy lids. His fingers trail down her stomach, and trace over the soft tuff of hair at her sex. She moans and reflexively parts her knees slightly. His voice comes again, "Open my beautiful flower." Terri tossed her head back as his dry fingers run over the warm outer shin of her sex. Ripples of friction course through her and he continues to nibble sweetly at her shoulder. It seems to last an eternity. "Good girl," his rumble intones as her legs part further and her soft ripple of folds open, allowing him to dip in and moisten his fingers for the first time. He rubs at her gently, expertly, "That's my good girl." She can't stop writhing. With practiced ease, he pushes into her sleep-tighted tunnel with one digit. She gasped, and reached her hand down, only to find it held fast with his other hand. She wiggled on his finger as he wiggled within her.

Howie shakes sharply as Terri gasps, and lifts her chest. "Come here. I want that sweet pussy." Move, she thinks to herself, but her muscles refuse to obey. His strong arms pull her up and with his help she pushes herself on him, impaling herself on his rigid penis. She tossed her head back as her muscles scream into overdrive. She moves on him. Moving and moving, and through her silted eyes she sees his face, fused with the pleasure of her pleasure. This is heaven.

"Do you want to fly," sounds the breathy inquiry. Terri can only collapse on Howie's chest and moan a broken reply incoherently. "Turn," he whispers in a tone so full of authority. Terri stands, turns, and sits, all in one fluid motion. Impaled again, she leans back, to be caught in his engulfing arms. Balanced by only the organ within her, and his arms, it is his turn to move. Move and moving. She soars to a new height, until her wax- made wings melt under the blaze, and she begins to fall.

Gasping, he pulls back, and pushes her hips down, and she hears his last few strokes. Hot rain, it fuses with her languor, and spreads it through her body, until the warm of it all rests heavy about and on top of her. He nuzzles softly at her shoulder and whispers dreamily, "It's wakie time."