Archive for February, 2015

Somnambulist

Dave and Theresa and their three-year old daughter Kate have been staying in our guest bedroom for the last week and a half, while they look for a new house to rent. It has been kind of fun, although I could definitely see it getting old if the stay lasts too long. They are good friends, they are good guests, the kids play well together. And Dave is pretty easy on the eyes; I wouldn’t mind awfully walking in on him in the shower one day. Or him walking in on me. Or maybe Theresa, for that matter; she’s got kind of a nice body.
There is someone in the bedroom. Ordinarily this would concern me, but for some reason tonight it doesn’t. Jake, my husband, is slumbering next to me, snoring softly and steadily; Lela, our daughter, is asleep in her own bed in the adjoining room. The stranger closes the door quietly behind him, and quietly traverses the laundry-strewn floor, all the way over to the bed.
It is Dave, of course. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about this happening: this, or something very much like it. He pauses at the foot of the bed, and I can see his tall, slender form in the mostly-dark. There is just enough starlight seeping in through the window for me to see that he is naked, and that his cock, while not yet fully erect, is fat and thick between his legs.

Silently, he lifts up the covers and gently slides into bed, sliding up right between my feet, and my legs part for him like an automatic door. I sleep naked, I always have, ever since I was a girl, and my nude pussy is suddenly sopping wet: hot, slick, and exposed. I feel his breath tickling my sensitive parts. Next to us, my husband stirs in his sleep and we both freeze.

Jake shifts his body and his breathing settles, falling into a deeper sleep. Dave and I both relax, and Dave shimmies up a little higher, nudging my thighs wider apart, until his face is right up in my kitty. His strong hands are on my inner thighs. He sticks out his tongue and starts licking.

I am in heaven! His tongue dances around, exploring, teasing, lavishing affection only to dart coyly away. How long has it been since I’ve had a good, honest-to-god pussy licking? Ages! Certainly since before Lela was born. Jake used to be pretty good at it. Dave is *amazing* at this, and not only that but he is really into it! I chew on my pillow, willing my hips not to buck too wildly, willing myself not to grab him by the hair and mash him into my crotch as his insistent tongue drives me closer and closer to the brink.

He is concentrating on my clit now, my poor long-neglected clitoris. It is almost too much; almost, but not quite. He is flicking that sensitive little button with the tip of his tongue, steady as a metronome, while fingers (how many, I honestly have no idea) plumb the depths of my drooling pussy. I feel a finger pressing against my asshole, and I start to slip over the edge. I raise my ass up off the mattress, offering myself to him, gnawing a ragged wet hole in the red flannel pillow case. When he is done licking, I want him to slither further up my body, and slip that big fat hard dick of his straight up my pussy, husband or no husband. I want to fuck him.

Just as I am about to slide past that glorious point of no return, I wake up. The house is quiet. Jake is snoring next to me. My pussy is wet, my hand is pressed between my legs. The orgasm that was building evaporates and slips away.

I might wake Jake up with a blowjob. I might reach over and fondle him until he’s hard, then climb on top and ride him until we both come. I’m not sure how he’d react if I were to do that. Would he be annoyed? Into it? Would he feel grudgingly obligated? Would he grunt and roll over and pretend not to wake up? I think about slipping downstairs and turning on some porn, but it seems like too much effort, and we do have house guests. I look at the clock. It is almost 3. I roll over and fall back asleep.

I can lick my own pussy. It’s a stretch, but I’m pretty limber, and I’ve been taking yoga for years. I can get my head just far enough down so that I can get the tip of my tongue on my clit. I can’t hold the position; I’m only good for two or three licks at a time, but that’s all I need. I curl up on the bed, like a cat grooming herself. My clitoris is pink and bulbous, straining out. The stretch doesn’t even hurt. My face is right down in my pussy, my swollen, wet pussy. I savor my own smell, my own taste, my sex. It is intoxicating. I lap at my clit, once, twice, three times, while my fingers explore the depths of my pussy. I relax, letting my back straighten up, and then go down again, licking myself, pushing myself closer and closer toward ecstasy. While I am down there, I luxuriate in watching my own fingers fuck myself. It is pornographic, in the very best sense of the word. I wish it were Dave’s cock I was watching slide wetly between my pink and puffy labia. Lick, lick, lick, relax. I take a deep breath and dive in again. I am close, so fucking close. Lick, lick, lick. I wish Dave’s cock was in my ass, and Jake’s in my cunt, and I was sandwiched between the two men; I wish Theresa were licking my pussy, I wish it were Dave, or Jake’s, or anyone’s tongue but mine dancing on my clitoris, bringing me inexorably closer and closer to orgasm. Lick, lick, relax. My fingers are buried to the knuckles in my cunt. I can’t quite get there. I can’t quite come. I could get up and grab my trusty vibrator from my underwear drawer, but that seems like so much trouble and so very far away, and then, fuck! The dream changes.

The shower is hot and steaming, and the spray of water cascading down my body feels delicious. I am just starting to wonder whether I have enough time and privacy to rub one out real quick-like, when Jake walks into the bathroom. Horny disappointment and frustration wash over me, and I feel like I might cry. What the fuck does *he* want in here? Can’t a girl get five minutes of quiet, alone time?

And then I see what he wants. Jake has taken off his sweatshirt, and his pants, and his cock juts straight out, the size and shape of a railroad spike. He pushes naked through the shower curtain, getting down on his knees in the warm, soapy water, and sticks his head in between my ass cheeks.

I sigh, pressing my hands against the plastic wall of the shower stall, the cheap, mildew-ridden one we’ve intended to replace and upgrade for years, but have yet to get around to. I arch my back, thrusting my ass out, offering myself to him.

His tongue parses up and down the cleft between my cheeks before zeroing in on my tight, crinkled, freshly washed little anus, which is suddenly screamingly sensitive and crying for the attention. The sensation is delightful, delicious, unspeakable hedonistic. Even back in the old days of hot-n-heavy sex, this is not something that he has ever done for me. To be fair, I never explicitly asked him to do it, but I have certainly whacked off to the idea more than once.

His tongue is probing deeper, deeper, worming its way up my rear end. The sensation is exquisite. His tongue feels like it is about a yard long, a wiggling, squirming, slippery eel, teasing and tormenting my asshole, sending shards of kinky, deviant, glorious pleasure up and down my spine, making my nipples stiffen and poke straight out, making my clit swell and throb with every perverted lick.

I reach down to play with my clit while Jake eats my asshole out, and discover that in place of a clitoris, I have grown myself a cock. What a delightful development! My hand wraps around my swollen, erect rod, jerking myself off, savoring the new sensations.

I push Jake away before he can make me come like this. He comes up, wet and grinning. I brandish my brand-new erection. I am going to skewer him. I am going to bend my husband over and fuck him up the ass, fuck him deep and hard, make him cry out, and then I am going to come deep inside him. And when I am done, he can get off however he wants. He can come in my mouth, or on my tits, or in my pussy, or in my ass for that matter, wherever he wants. He can even fuck Theresa while I watch, I really don’t give a shit, I am so turned on!

Pale morning light is streaming in through the bedroom window. Jake is already downstairs, making coffee. Is there a term for the female equivalent of morning wood? I have it, in spades. My pussy is slippery and swollen, my clit is irritatingly erect. I can hear Dave and Theresa making morning sounds in the guest bedroom. The kids will be up soon.

I *will* have an orgasm today, by hook or, as they say, by crook. I will.

God damn it.

END

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