My Sleeping Beauty

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: General Erotica  |  House: Booksiesilk Classic Group

Audacious me having my way with my woman while she sleeps

This is fiction, and the author in no way suggests such activity should occur in reality unless a prior consensual agreement has been made between consenting partners.

Inspired by Marcel Proust and his kink with the enigmatic Albertine.

 

Sometimes in her sleep, Alex lies naked on hot summer nights. The window is left open for even a hint of an overnight sea breeze. I think I deliberately work very late so she will fall asleep, and I can watch her naked body in slumbered, openly vulnerable repose. Then I move to touching her and seeing her get aroused like she is having an erotic dream as I build her to a drowsy edge of waking sleep-gasm with my fingers and my cock.

God, Alex is a deep sleeper, and I’m thankful for that. Her life, being, and sex are under my hands as she lies fully manipulable on our large queen-sized brass bed.

The heat has seen her sleep naked above the sheets; tonight. On this still breezeless muggy midnight, the moonlight through the open window has her body so unwrapped and inviting already. Her legs open. Spread indecorously but very naturally, and therein lies the attraction. She has rescinded control of her body without knowing it. Yet her body finds the pose to loosen up in the sweltering heatwave. Her body asks for sex on her behalf. 

Alex is so withdrawn in her REM stage that I can do my usual pervy lingering voyeur inspection of her sleeping exposed body. I strip and sit on the bed next to her. I’m getting urgent. While she is sleeping, it is like I have full possession of her, unlike when she is awake. Her self is so consciously confident in lovemaking. Her eyes are always watching me during sex. She takes and participates in sex through her eyes. She demands so much too, my insatiable partner. I love her so much but God getting her to her needed orgasm is frickin tricky hard work under the glare of her constant sexual scrutiny and powerful expectant drive.

But in the shadows, I’m ready to trace my fingers along her body, every indent, every curve, every mole, when this particular occasion becomes the night where my fantasy is an undreamt reality. Alex touches herself between her spread legs. A slight moan escapes her lips. My sweetie has a girly wet dream, and I’m witness to it. My cock gets aroused instantly. 

My hand is on her breast. Her hand is moving between her legs. So gently. So softly. So lightly. I still have a lot to learn about how to touch my lover and be attuned to her sensuous sexuality. 

I clasp her waist on both sides to feel her tender body sway. The rhythm of her feathery soft touches through her downy pubes as she electrifies herself fascinates me.

She rolls sideways, and her fingers are now deep between her legs. Incessant whimpers of pleasure fill the room. Her breathing is more intense. She’s exploring her inner being in the interior trance of her dreams, and I’m witnessing her girly joy.

My finger is tracing over the line of her back, resting for a while at her tailbone, traipsing over her shoulders, and finally making tighter ringlets in her wild chestnut locks. But, of course, I’m rubbing my cock along her gorgeous thigh at the same time. 

I sometimes suspect Alex is faking sleep. To support me in my deepest need. Maybe; I like to think that to avoid the taboo of being coercive within the shady line of consent.

Should I tell her what I do? Would she trust me? But are we ever entirely truthful with each other in bed? Like how many previous partners have we both had? We permanently reduce the number and their significance. Hide our darker fantasy desires, which are much harder to share with a close other. The fear that our urges may be out of sync.

I am always surprised by what I see of my girl close-up. From a distance, as I entered the room, she was all feminine harmonious sinuous shape. The ideal sleeping beauty, but close up, there are her freckles, intimate moles, and small lower arm scar to be scrutinised. Her demystified self, yes and no. Closer to her flesh, yet not close enough. I want the detail in separate minutiae, yet I crave the whole: full possession. Even as she touches herself intimately, my Alex remains a mystery.

Despicable me: joins her pleasure trap: it’s already secured by her fingerwork in her fleshy folds. I want my fingers imprisoned between the vice pressure of Alex’s thighs too.

I wheedle my way into her pussy, edging down from her navel, over her chestnut pubic dusting and coaxing a space to share. My fingers entwined with my lover’s fingers over and in her slit. I woo a space in her moisture. I manoeuvre a digit discreetly into her arsehole. I double Alex’s pleasure instantly. My happiness soars incrementally as her deeper breathing approaches a sexual pant. My chestnut beauty is more sexually potent in her prone state.

She rolls back over, my odalisque, like a submissive harem slave. It appears her dream requires an intimate examination. 

My inspection is unhindered by Alex’s usual excited movements in regular sex. When it’s all fast, close body-to-body pressing, I want to see her sex linger in detail, and I can now. I want to understand her sex. Even with stirrups and a speculum, that’s impossible, but any insight is insight. I want to touch her sex. That’s physical and possible to open her sex. Yet the deeper hankers to unfurl all the mysteries of her sexual self as I unfold her parted labia under my fingers. 

Somehow her sex life will be catalogued like her true kinky proclivities will be revealed. Her hottest pleasure is finally exposed as I peel back her clit cowl. Her definitive sexual being held under the cover of a crinkly hood of skin? 

Held like we can’t keep the vital fluids moving and joining us together in sexual moments because it’s all action. Only when we are still, and it’s in memory, do we try to approximate it. To enjoy it in our minds and to seek its deeper meaning. So I had her sexual stillness under my fingers, and my eyes focused on her pungent womanly smell to whiff and sniff at the moment.

In motion, we are in motion. We saturate in sex, are the sex and can’t think beyond the sex. Though we believe we can. 

No, the act dominates the body. The performance dictates the mind. It floods all our senses and wipes out peripheral vision if we are genuinely in it. 

Here lying beside her, Alex is all mine. Yet still unfathomable. Her parts are so richly fleshly textured. Never seen exactly the same. Yet, even though her lips are so intimately known, they always surprise and greet my fingers and eyes anew. Forever waiting for playful, indulgent sharing. Pussy’s are designed to be shared.

Beyond an intellectual understanding, beyond a gynaecological perspective, the aura of her sexual being is mine. I was too close to see the entirety of what was truly revealed. Her genitals gobsmacked me.

I noticed a bead of sweat on her forehead, which creates associations with her feminine wetness. I think only her name, Alex. Then I think of her body. Yet I love her lively mind. She loved the outdoors, but it was her pussy I most love. I’m not ashamed to admit it. Her pussy defined my love for Alex, the physical. Then the rest of Alex was there. Yes, we need the rest. We wouldn’t be happy if our woman were just a pussy like a jellyfish. Like the joke, what is the definition of a woman? Answer: A life support system for a pussy.

We need the emotion, perhaps a tad less drama, but the life attached. The pussy is connected to the woman, making the woman to share.

Her inscrutable self. Alex’s pussy’s power was as complex as her unseen mind. It’s my view of her. What would she make of me touching her as she slept? 

I want to wake her, yet I don’t. It would change everything if she were awake. Unaware, she remains in my full awareness. In my hold. The strangeness of being, we are together, yet apart, yet together we can feel even more apart.

Always approximations in life. Better to touch and not think. Only touch her, only penetrate her and give her what I have naturally without overthinking it.

She is restless again and rolls, her fingers again nursed between her thighs, touching herself. I spoon into her, my cock burrowing easily between her buttocks and into her soft, pliable wet pussy. It is where my cock belongs. 

God, how doesn’t she wake

I think it’s soothing rock and roll. I cradle her with sex. My cock angled into her gash, accessing her g-spot. The regular thrusting power and excitement were all mine. Banging into her soft arse cheeks. My hands roamed all over Alex’s body. Her malleable stomach, her pliable nipples and pushing into her belly button.

My chestnut beauty moans like a whore. I want to treat her like one. I want her cute arsehole in her slumbering state. I imagine it’s a hot afternoon. Alex has awoken from a sultry siesta. She is partially aware but too languorous to engage in energetic sex. I think that, but I remain glad she is sleeping now. 

I finger her butthole first. Using only my pinkie. My smallest digit compliments her tight hole. I had to lick her ‘starfish.’ I had to. The joy of rimming was undeniable in her dozing state. Swathes of saliva and my tongue tip pushing into her puckered pinkness. Her crack is enjoying the attention. Her sleep is getting restless. So close to waking.

My cock, my hard cock, needed Alex’s arse. I furrowed into her constricted crevasse. Splitting her sensitive fissure with my girth. Burrowing into her cranny. My pecker enjoying the vice-like constriction I was ferreting around in her butt at my leisure. Alex’s body was writhing close to a ravished nightmare. Her skin was sweaty and flushing. I pictured her as the fem-gasm lass fiend ravished in Fuseli’s famous, The Nightmare. I kept digging where my dick needed to be. My woman had to wake; I was being feral. My buttocks impelled my cock into the stricture between her bum cheeks.

I strained and shuddered. Alex moaned deeply. Her head was tossing. Her body couldn’t because I was holding it. I held her hips to secure my release deep in her delectable back passage: where my sperm now had a useless swim.

I eased out, my cum dribbling, seeping out with my withdrawal. Alex’s body is in submission to itself. My woman is replete. Satisfied beyond her wildest dreams. I was now ready to sleep and dream of taking my girl repeatedly. Bugger, counting sheep.

Alex’s face was hovering over mine when I awoke the following day. A pleased smile, framed by the early sunlight catching the curls of her chestnut hair, dominated her face.

“Mmm, I had one of those steamy dreams. Strange to say, it felt better than actual sex. I can still feel a zing in my arse. God, I feel good.” 

Alex arched down and kissed my forehead. I scrutinised her eyes though her naked breasts were dangling within reach. Deceiving, innocent or colluding: how could a mere male ever know? She is Yin. I am Yang. Only in sex are Alex and I, maybe whole. But knowing Alex? Well, only what she reveals.

“Mmm, coffee. I’ll make us coffee; after that, you better be ready for me. God, I’m feeling so randy,” said Alex as she stretched her arms out, getting off our bed.

And I watched her fetching naked caboose promenade out of the bedroom.


Submitted: January 23, 2023

© Copyright 2023 Janus. All rights reserved.

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