Microfantasy Monday — Sleep

Another sleep­less night — I toss and turn while he slum­bers beside me. Time passes — it could be one hour or three. It’s hard to gauge the pas­sage of time as you lay in the silent dark. I try every­thing to fall asleep, lay­ing on my side, on my back, lay­ing against his chest lis­ten­ing to the steady beat of his heart. Noth­ing works.

I tap him lightly, then a lit­tle harder. He groans sleep­ily, asks me what’s the mat­ter. I lean close to his ear, tell him “I can’t sleep”. He rolls over to regard me with half closed eyes, asks me if there’s any­thing he can do to help. Ideas form in my rest­less mind, ideas that quickly take on a life of their own as I press my body to his, as I run my hand down the smooth plane of his chest. He’s still half asleep when I slide my hand lower, but his body is plenty awake, respond­ing to my touch even as he sleep­ily nuz­zles into my breasts.

I climb atop his body, reach­ing down beneath my tummy to take him in hand, to rub him against my wet­ness. The rest of his body starts to wake — he rubs his eyes, fight­ing the sleep that threat­ens to engulf him as I take his body into mine. Lean­ing for­ward, I press my breasts against his smooth chest, slide my tongue up the rough­ness of his chin, to the soft shell of his ear. I whis­per things, dirty things, and I can feel him come to life beneath me, his body start­ing to move with mine.

His hands come up to grip my hips, to pull him­self deeper as I ride him to a glo­ri­ous cli­max that brings him almost, but not quite to full wake­ful­ness. I’m not sure what’s bet­ter — the drug­like orgasm that relaxes my body enough for sleep to take hold, or the sweet­ness of falling asleep with him still inside me. Savor­ing the smell of his skin, the feel of his mouth sleep­ily kiss­ing my neck as I finally find slumber.

Micro­fan­tasy Mon­day is the brain­child of the Swel­ter­ing Celt.