Erotica from Penthouse by Marco Vassi Read Free Book Online Page A

my lovers, by and large, have shared my taste in this regard. Yes, one does make concessions to the hour. For example, I never force tongue kissing in the A.M .
    In fact, if a woman grabs my head, presses her lips to mine and sticks her tongue inside before we brush our teeth, well, that's exciting. The woman who ignores bacteria because she must have me then and there is a she-devil in my book.
    My current wife is unpredictable on this score. And this can sometimes cause confusion. Some mornings I awake earlier than she and begin stroking her naked body. She sleeps on her stomach, so I begin with a light massage on the shoulders, move my fingers down her lower back, stroke her buttocks and move my fingers into the even more sensitive nether regions. If the Missus is in deep slumber, she usually remains oblivious to all this. But often my amorous maneuvers will prompt her to roll upon her back, open her eyes a crack and laugh wickedly. “Aren't you supposed to be out jogging now?” she will ask.
    Thereupon I dive down upon her mouth and start caressing the nipples of her breasts. She'll raise her head to meet my kisses and fold her arms tightly around my neck. Off we go.
    Yet other times, she'll move her head violently to the side as my lips near hers, and she'll bury half her face into a pillow, mumbling something about the clam sauce on last night's linguine. I usually ignore the rebuff, adroitly turning it into a rape fantasy scenario—grabbing her arms, pinning her wrists to the pillow, and fucking her while blowing in her face as she squirms. Such kissless passion has its own unique rewards.
    My fondness for early morning eroticism stems in part no doubt from the fact that I almost always get up with an erection—a male physiological quirk that is unparallelled in the female erogenous zones. The boner is coupled with the need to relieve myself and the desire to have sex. This combination leads to intense internal deliberations. Dare I run to the commode, maybe wake the baby in the next room and lose the moment? Or do I grit my teeth, surrender to passion and get the ball rolling? To be honest, I usually go for broke.
    But what about bed mates? Women with full bladders rarely enjoy horizontal folk dancing. Some have told me this after the fact: “Jeez, I'm glad that's over with. Excuse me for a moment, will you?” It's the rare woman, I've found, who will dive in despite urinary imperatives. I don't mind if they excuse themselves. I just wait patiently and pray that passions aren't doused by cold bathroom tiles.
    Morning sex is risky business. I've had trysts ruined by Con Ed representatives wanting to read my meter; phone calls from friends who want to catch me before I've left for the office; and the incredibly antiaphrodisiac drone of giant concrete mixers working on the luxury condominiums next door.
    I usually enjoy being the aggressor in sex—morning or night. But I've come to realize that perhaps no joy is greater than the startling realization that a lover is licking your penis while urging it and you to “wake up.” I always follow that command.
    Yet I've found some women who are quite inattentive to early passion. I went down on one lover as the bedside alarm clock radio switched on the all-news station at 6:45. After the headlines, weather, sports, an editorial on toxic waste removal, tips on how to beat the flu and the stock market report, my snoring beauty had yet to stir. Upset by her corpse-like responsiveness, I stormed into the shower. As I was towelling myself dry, she entered the bathroom. “Shit, it's after 7:30. Why didn't you wake me? I'll be late for work.”
    One has to be especially vigilant on the birth control watch in the morning. And it can be a pain. Women on the pill, for obvious reasons, pose the least hassle. Females with diaphragms—unless they are very much into it—don't relish all the rigamorole involved in preparing for another spermicidal assault. I don't mind sheathing my