The Lazy Morning!

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a
warm, golden glow over the tangled sheets, as if the sun itself were
conspiring to prolong their stolen moments. The day felt young and vibrant, alive with promise, as Hrithik lays beside Naina. She stirred slowly, her eyes fluttering open to meet his, those puffy, sleep-softened eyes that gazed back at her with such quiet contentment. They seemed to hold a deep satisfaction, mirroring the serenity she felt in her heart, like two souls whispering secrets only they could understand.

He smiled lazily and whispered, "Baba, good morning," his voice a low, velvety rumble that sent a shiver through her, as if time itself had
paused to savor the intimacy.

Naina closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the warmth of his breath
brushing against her earlobes like a gentle summer breeze. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss there, then another, igniting a familiar spark that spread through her veins like wildfire. She surrendered to it, nestling deeper into his embrace. His broad shoulders enveloped her like a protective cocoon, his round face inches from hers, framed
by tousled hair. That warm, smooth voice of his, always so tender and teasing, had a way of unraveling her completely, making her fall for him anew every time, heartstrings tugged by an invisible force.

In his arms, she felt an overwhelming sense of safety, a bliss that bordered on eternity, where worries evaporated like morning dew. His strong hands became her perfect pillow, cradling her head as she rested against him. That lazy morning stretched on like forever,
unhurried and intimate, the world outside fading into irrelevance.

Hrithik's kisses grew softer yet more insistent, trailing across her
face, her cheeks flushed under his touch, her forehead beaded with the first hints of anticipation, the curve of her jaw yielding to his lips. Desire danced in his eyes, personified as a mischievous sprite urging him onward. He ventured to the sensitive skin of her neck,
where passion's flame licked at her senses, leaving a deliberate hickey just beneath her earlobe, a hidden mark that would tease her
throughout the day, a secret reminder of him while he was away at the office. She smiled to herself, knowing the faint bruise would be a sweet torment, impossible to conceal completely, like a badge of their
unspoken bond.

That day, Hrithik had no desire to leave the bed for his usual morning walk. His favorite buddy (dog) waited patiently by the door, tail thumping expectantly, oblivious to the fact that his most favorite hooman (Hrithik) was
utterly preoccupied, lost in the warmth of his forever "baba." The outside world could wait; here, in this sanctuary of sheets, time was
their plaything.

Hrithik's hands roamed playfully, squeezing and caressing her breasts,
his favorite indulgence, which he affectionately called his "food to
eat." He reveled in her body, tracing every curve with reverence and
hunger, his fingers exploring as if mapping a cherished landscape. It was a gloriously lazy morning, the kind where sleep lingered in their, limbs like a reluctant guest, yet desire stirred gently, building like a slow tide that promised to crash upon the shore. They shifted into a spooning position, bodies pressed close, skin against skin, hearts
beating in harmonious rhythm.

As their affection deepened, the air thickened with anticipation, electric and alive. His fingers, smooth and buttery from the remnants of lotion, glided downward, circling her navel with teasing slowness,
each touch a spark that ignited deeper cravings. His lips followed
suit, tasting the soft dip of her belly, squishing and savoring it until passion overtook them like a storm gathering force. He moved
lower, his mouth finding her most intimate core, his tongue moving in deliberate, rhythmic strokes that made her arch and gasp, waves of pleasure crashing over her like an unrelenting ocean. His hands
gripped her buttocks and thighs firmly, occasionally reaching up to
knead her breasts, thumbs circling the peaks with expert pressure that sent jolts through her body. Desire personified itself in his every
motion, whispering promises of ecstasy as his touch roamed her stomach, her breasts, every inch of her quivering form, building a
symphony of sensations that left her breathless and begging for more.

Emboldened by the intensity, the room seemed to pulse with their shared energy, the bedsheets twisting like accomplices in their
fervor. They shifted again, this time into cowgirl position, her straddling him with a wild abandon that made her feel empowered and utterly vulnerable all at once. Naina's moans filled the room, her voice breathy and ragged as she whispered his name..."Hrithik"...over and over, like a sacred incantation. He responded with powerful thrusts, jerking her closer, pulling her hair just enough to elicit a thrill of surrender, his grip firm yet laced with tenderness. Though she was his princess, cherished and adored, in bed she became his wild cat, fierce
and uninhibited, claws out in playful ecstasy.

He teased her with his familiar line, his voice husky amid the heat: "Agar mein badtameez hota toh ye karta... lekin nahi." Yet she loved
pushing him further, overdoing the provocation while ultimately yielding to him completely, their bodies moving in a dance as old as time. His towering height always struck her as majestic, making her feel delightfully small; he, in turn, adored her cute little legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper into the vortex of their passion.

The climax built like a crescendo in a beautiful symphony, carrying them to a shared, shattering peak that left them breathless and entwined, bodies woven together and breaths mingling in the afterglow.
Afterward, those legs felt heavy, trembling from the boundless
intensity of their lovemaking, as if the earth itself had shifted
beneath them. Hrithik, ever the charmer, scooped her up in his arms when
she couldn't walk, babying her with effortless strength. Even in her playful protests of soreness, his witty flirtations and clever remarks made her laugh, reminding her why she lived for these moments with
him, like a knight carrying his queen, turning exhaustion into enchantment.

- - -


Many years had passed since that pivotal incident, the day he pulled
back, confessing he wasn't ready, still healing from his ex's trauma.
He had stepped away quietly, convinced she was out of his league, his
safest shield against vulnerability. Naina, heartbroken and fierce, had replied that she wouldn't invest in a space where she had to crave her place in his heart.
Crazy in love and longing, she guarded herself and tried to move on.

But little did she know, it wasn't the end. Within a week, Hrithik chased her with renewed fervor, reassuring her that her place was secure, urging them to give it a real shot. That shot blossomed into years of enduring love.
Now
in their forties, their connection remained as youthful and
immeasurable as ever, the craziness, the passion, growing stronger with
every passing day, unstoppable and timeless.