Sexy Bed Time Stories Novels & Stories

"No, Daddy. I promise." When I start to ride him faster, his eyelids droop, his hips rolling up to meet me, upper lip pulled up in a snarl. "I don't want to have to tell everyone how you've been teasing me. Sitting on my lap and twirling those pigtails around your finger. Changing in your bedroom with the door open. Daddy had no choice." My thighs start to tremble on either side of his hips. "Sorry. I'm sorry." "That's okay, little girl," he rasps. One big hand slides up under my nightshirt and cups my breast, squeezing it tight and pinching the nipple between two rough knuckles. "Having our nighttime secret is going to make it all better."

I said with a small laugh. The remaining nighttime was spent in bedtime routines and warm baths, in stories and toothbrushes. Mirabel insisted on one of Clinton’s old bedtime tales — something about a crocodile and a mango — and I fumbled my way through the story while they giggled under their covers. When they finally dozed off, I stayed a while longer in the hallway, just watching them sleep. Japheth curled toward the window. Jake, hugging his teddy. Mirabel, one leg dangling off the bed as if dreaming of her little bride walk.

Kinks: Sleepy sex, somnophilia (consensual), edging, soft domination The room was bathed in shadows, the only light coming from the dim streetlamp outside, casting faint lines across the bedspread. Everything else was quiet, wrapped in a calm so thick it felt almost alive. She lay on the soft mattress, her body still and warm beneath the thin cotton sheet. The vibrator hummed softly between her thighs, its steady pulse a gentle reminder of the pleasure lingering just beneath the surface of sleep.

This was the first time he’d shared a bed with both his Mummy and Daddy, and he couldn’t contain his happiness. "Daddy," he said. "Yes, son?" "Can you tell me a bedtime story? Mummy always does it, but now that you’re staying, you should tell me one." Liam held my hand and Scott’s hand too, as if he wanted the three of us to stay connected forever. "I’m not very good at bedtime stories, but I’ll give it a try," Scott replied. Scott began telling Liam a bedtime story until he fell asleep. I tucked him in with the duvet and turned to the other side of the bed, trying to sleep. But I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried.

“I think… I’d like that.” He helped me onto the blanket he had laid out on the terrace floor. We sat side by side, shoulders touching lightly. The stars were breathtaking. I felt my body relax in a way I hadn’t in months, just letting myself exist in the quiet company of Damon Moretti. “I want a bedtime story,” I said suddenly, breaking the peaceful silence. He looked at me, raising one eyebrow. “A bedtime story? From me?” “Yes. You’re my bedtime storyteller tonight,” I said, trying to sound playful, though my heart was racing.

“Seriously Ashley, I might get upset if you go through my messages.” “Dumb boy messages, just let go of me, I don't care anymore.” “Promise?” “Yeah.” She scoffed and he did, she didn't try taking the phone again and he lay beside her. “You should be sleeping, it's late already.” “I know and am exhausted, but I can't seem to fall asleep. Can you tell me a bedtime story?” “Bedtime stories are for kids, not twenty-one-year-olds.” “Just tell me one.” “Okay, I don't really know much so how about I tell you the story of a demon who has lived for over a thousand years.”

Then, in a low, even voice, she began telling stories. She told five. Thomas didn't seem remotely sleepy. In the past, by the third story, Theo would already have been asleep. But she knew better than to compare Thomas to him. Thomas's insomnia ran deep; his body and mind refused to rest easily. Patient as ever, Sharon kept going. She had prepared around thirty bedtime stories that night. If none of them worked, she would simply try another approach tomorrow. But the truth was—she hadn't slept much the night before, keeping vigil over him. Now, lulled by her own soft cadence and the drowsy pull of her words, she began to nod off mid-sentence.

“You've had too much excitement for one night.” I yawned, voice muffled by his hand. “Where's the crab dip...?” My eyelids fluttered. I snuggled against the pillow. Samael sipped his tea. He watched me, apparently amused. “I'll tell you a bedtime story.” Samael flicked his forefinger. The couch's comforter flew through the air and covered me. I burrowed myself beneath it. “About what?” I murmured, dozing.

I said assuringly. “No. I don't wanna stay alone." She begged, dragging my wrist. Realizing that there was no other way I could leave the room, I came up with an idea. ‘I’m going to tell her a story until she falls asleep!’ "Okay, Marissa, you know what? I have enough stories to tell you, tonight! Do you wanna hear it?” “Yes!" She answered enthusiastically. "Then, climb into bed ASAP!” I said eagerly as both of us crawled into bed, throwing the covers over us.

A safe space for the little ones to move freely. Bedtime stories became a cherished tradition, with Liam’s deep voice weaving tales that transported the children to magical realms. Davi, with his gentle lullabies, lulled the mischievous trio into a peaceful slumber. As the house settled into quietude, Liam and Davi would steal moments to reflect on the beautiful chaos that defined their lives and also to steal intimate moments that belonged only to them.