I struggled to sleep with my husband. Truly struggled. Actual sleep. Having sex with him was easy. He’s used to sound of mortars and bodies and sweat and violence, and can sleep just fine. But for myself, I need a blacked out, quiet environment with no new movements or objects. Hence why I couldn’t sleep with my husband. And he’s a large presence, broad shoulders, and arms and legs that seem to reach out everywhere. What’s worse: he’s a snuggler. Up until him, I was not. Let me go to my edge, you go to yours. It took over a year of sleeplessness before I could sleep a decent amount, but amazing sex. It’s a fair trade-off.
To make matters worse, it seems like I can’t get enough of him. I can rarely leave him alone. He is gorgeous and sexy; I always want him. He has this bottom lip that begs to be sucked, pulled with my teeth. But I digress just like I do when I try to fall asleep with him. That was then.
The other morning he woke me up, a feat that he rarely accomplishes. I was having the nicest of dreams when I awakened; he was playing with my clit. He often remarks that I must have some wonderful dreams, because I wake up wet the majority of mornings. He dipped inside of me and spread my juices around, and continued to slide his finger around my pearl. One finger applied pressure above it, somehow making it stand out all the more and become even more sensitive. It took me a moment to realize I wasn’t in a dream, and I still felt the fluffy foggy clouds around me, swept up in a romantic fantasy. I must’ve moaned. I heard a chuckle right before my hair was lifted and I was kissed on the side of my neck.
His fingers gently sunk into me, first one, and then two. His thumb continued to rub my clit. His breath warm against my ear before playfully nipping the lobe. His fingers began to press more deeply, with more intent, and I pulled my legs farther apart to give him access.
His body moved lower, the covers sliding down and baring flesh. My nipples hardened and he briefly kissed one before moving his mouth to my growing need. Gently, his tongue flicks at my already hard and tormented bud. He looks up at me, a half smile upon his lips. Again, the tip of his tongue flicked, and he watched me squirmed. His tongue moved lower, tracing my entrance, driving me crazy and my hips trying to rotate his mouth into my opening. He gripped my thighs and held me, looking mischievous back up for a brief moment, before flashing his tongue out for the briefest of moments, and then down against my already slick portal.
Suddenly he was no longer the tease, and he increased both the tempo and the pressure of his mouth. He was gluttonous, but I was starving. I am grateful I can sleep with him these days, for now he has the opportunities to wake me and fulfill my dreams.