Clinging like an octopus

My body was stiff. My attempt at moving was blocked by something—no—someone. His arms were wrapped tightly around me when I woke up. I looked down at his forearm at my torso, then his leg on top of mine locking me in place.

No cuddling, my ass. He was the one clinging to me like an octopus—not that I was complaining.

The more I stayed in that position, the more aware I became of him, his pulse against my back, his gentle, slow breaths at the back of my head, his morning wood pressed firmly against my butt. A blush crept up my cheeks. Luckily, he was asleep. I used the chance to gently peel his arm off me. It weighed like lead.

After several failed attempts, I gave up and decided to catch a little more sleep—as much as I could get with his cock prodding at my ass, that is. I closed my eyes and ended up stirring, unable to fall asleep.

My mind was flooded with all kinds of thoughts, none that had anything to do with what I wanted to think about. Instead of thinking about my strategy