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My ocean view is so spectacular, I can’t believe it’s mine, but as I watch the moon’s reflection dance upon the gentle waves, I wonder if I should close the curtains.
I never close the curtains on school nights. I know I’ll be up early in the morning, and I should be asleep before it gets too bright, but tonight, I’m not so sure, and I have to getsomesleep.
Mercifully, watching the tranquil waves makesmetranquil enough to finally relax.
My body, anyway.
My mind is a muddled mess, and even in my dreams, I find myself running from some shadowy threat, going through door after door trying to find the magic one that will lead to safety.
When my eyes open, I’m surprised to find the room still dark.
Why am I awake?
For a foggy moment, I’m unsure, but then I’m swept up in a wave of pleasurable stimulation I don’t understand.
My body feels alive, too alive for sleeping. Pleasure ripples through me. I don’t know why I’m feeling it, but I moan softly at the sensation, my hand finding the edge of the mattress and instinctively holding on.
Why…?
Another moan.
I try to focus, to heighten my awareness despite my sleepy confusion. Yes, it feels so nice I don’t want to question it, but where is this coming from?
My pussy is wet. Something brushes my clit and I cry out softly, still fogged from sleep and confused at the pleasure, but god, it feels so nice. All the tension in my body is drawn to one spot, and that dreamlike caress promises to ease it.
Am I dreaming?
I wasn’t dreaming of anything nice. Certainly not anything sexy, so I don’t know why I’m turned on.
I don’t feel asleep.
I gasp as the sensation heightens again, another stroke rubbing against my clit.
Sighing with pleasure, I let my eyes drift closed. Like that first night I got to enjoy the Atwater pool, I enjoy the intoxicating hit of pleasure and the quick, skillful strokes.
If it were only pleasure, maybe I could believe it’s a dream, but I’m grounded in reality when the provider of my mysterious pleasure turns greedy. When at the height of my pleasure, he stops. He kisses my pussy like it’s my mouth, then turns his head and peppers my thighs with hot, hungry kisses.
It’s the kisses. His stubble scratching against my sensitive skin.
I wouldn’t feel that in a dream.
Before I can grab onto it, he’s spreading my pussy open and feasting on me again, and as soon as his tongue swipes my clit, all I want to do is come.
Just let go.
This isn’t supposed to be happening.
My brain tries to fully wake up, but it’s like wading through quicksand. The pleasure is fighting to overpower it. I can’t stop moaning as lick after lick, my pussy is bathed in the promise of a release I desperately need.
Fingers. I feel a hand holding my thigh open.
Wait.
Wait, this isn’t right.
The only way for me to be feeling this is for someone to bemakingme feel it, because I’m not touching myself.
I should be alone in my bedroom. Nobody should be in here with me.
