I am aching and swollen, slick with desire, lethargic from sleep, burning inside and out from hot fevered dreams. Not quite awake, not yet aware. The barrier between dreamscape and reality is blurred, and there are three: two unnamed, watching; and you.
The kiss of fanned air across my bare shoulders reminds me of your lips, cooling my heated skin while arousing me further. I am in my bed, alone. But I am, at the same time, in the center of a room, the center of attention, and the syrup dripping from my core is flowing down my thighs.
Your voice in my mind, silkily demanding, rough with need, makes me shiver, and in my dream I turn to lay on my side, hips tilted so my wet pussy is exposed to view, drawing my knees up so I can reach around behind and push my fingers up inside. One, so snug in this position, then with effort, a second. I begin to move them in curled presses – just my fingertips, pressure not friction – holding your eyes with mine, feeling theirs on my body; his roving, hers transfixed.
It is in this position that I cross over into summer morning awareness, tucked and overwarm, head against my pillow, fingertips tapping a tattoo from dreamtime ministrations, vaginal walls throbbing from the tease of the erotic unreality from which I’ve woken.
Awake now, I do not open my eyes but instead keep them closed to intensify sensations both real and remnant from recent fantasy. My fingers become yours, plunging inside my pulsing hot, pressing swift and firm against my g-spot, circling, sliding my velvet dew up over my clit, slipping down again with furious urgency inside to push and stretch against my tight channel. Pinprick pangs shoot against my nipples, pebbled at the tips of swollen breasts, and I press and roll them between my fingers to assuage the ache, pinching and pulling in mimicry of your mouth, suckling it’s nourishing demand.
I am atavistic, primal. Nothing but a carnal heartbeat, driven for more, needing to complete. My primitive brain is focused only on pleasure – MINE – and there is no room in this trembling, clawing need for slowing or waiting.
You are still with me behind my closed eyes and I know you want me to wait. To ride the edge. To draw it out.
But no. Not just now. I’m too far gone for that. Keep your Hold on and your Not yet for another time. I will and I can but ohGodnotNOW.
Now I am a liquidescent ball of flaming lust, dripping my wet in hot rivulets out of my pussy and onto my bed, screaming your name in my head to the rhythm of my heartbeat throbbing against my fingertips tugging at my nipples, fucking into my hot tight hole that even now is clamping, squeezing, contracting, meeting demands ancient and thrumming, squeezing, gripping, spasming, and now now nowNowNOW…
I am cumming…