I collapse onto the bed. Everything moves like molasses. I feel so ancient when I am so tired. My body does not want to work any more. Sleep, it cries, Sleep, please. I crawl on elbows and knees to the head of the big bed, curl around and under and against the numerous pillows that I keep.
You follow me on your knees and slide my leggings off of my hips, down my legs, pull them gently from my toes. I mumble something. Resisting every second that I have to have my eyes open. You carefully unwind my arms from around the soft mounds of fabric and I whine, a high-pitched, mewling little whine. My eyes are closed because I cannot take the harsh light any longer.
“Turn off the lights,” I whimper.
“First, your dress.”
Your hands move under the soft, flowing fabric and you tug at it until I move and comply and participate. I roll over and around, squirming, and whining the whole time. It too comes off of my head, and flies to some unknown destination.
“The lights,” I whisper.
With an exasperated sigh, the depression in the bed eases. I hear you pad over to the switch. Flick it off. From behind my eyelids I am aware of the darkness closing around us. You are on the bed again. Molesting me again. I am grumpy and childish. I am stubborn and annoyed. I just want to sleep. I paw and claw at you like some wounded animal, as you free me of my bra, leaving me in only panties. You swat at my hands as they raise to fight you, and in my weakened state, I can only grumble and roll back into my pillows.
Your body, already as naked as my own, wraps around me from behind, and you envelop me beneath the blankets. I shiver and writhe until there is not space enough for light to pass between us. One arm is in the space between my neck and the pillow, fingers lightly tracing the swell of my naked breasts. The other wraps around my hip, your large, flat palm, pressed to the front of my panties. There is heat there, beneath your skin. I ache and throb from your touch. I want to rally. I want to tear off the gauzy drowsiness and have you. But I am sinking deeper into pre-sleep by the second. I moan. I whimper. I squirm. I try to fight the sleep.
“Shhh,” you whisper. “You want to… you need to sleep, remember?”
In sharp contrast to your soothing words, your hand slides inside the front of the flimsy fabric and you cup my cunt, the tips of your fingers press against the very center of me, and if I was not so tired, I might blush as your index and middle digit split my lips and my cunny gushes against your skin. The struggle to remove my clothes aroused me, as you can tell. Your fingers slip inside of me, pumping in and out in a slow, maddening rhythm. My eyes never open, but my breathing becomes laboured. I wiggle my hips and feel your cock harden against the curve of my bum. I am moaning again. For a different reason. Your breath is hot and steady in my ear. Your lips move against my nape, against my neck, against my shoulder. Your teeth graze the sensitive flesh there. When you add a third finger, one of my hands curves about your wrist. Your momentum grows. I grind against your hand, back against your cock. My grip on your wrist tightens. I come on your fingers. I can feel the slick, hot juices leaking down my thighs as you remove your fingers from me.
You adjust, readjust. Your hand is between my thighs again, from behind. You lift and pull my leg back until it is hooked around yours, push the panties to the side, and then, you are inside of me to the hilt. Deep and tight and full. I gasp and the hand at my breast reaches up my mouth. Your fingers slip in, unbidden, stroke my tongue, the insides of my cheeks. I pant around them as you move your hips. I can feel you tense. I hear your breathing become heavier. You groan and I tremble at my core. Your pussy-wet hand slides back around my hips and you touch my clit frenetically, rubbing, stroking, tapping, like a heart beat, making me throb and ache once more. I tighten my hold around your ankle and use my leverage to squirm and writhe and rock back against you as you grind against me. We are so tight together like this, I can feel your cock start to spasm. With a growl, and a quick, animal movement, your hands grip my shoulder and hip and you force me onto my belly, flat and hard against the bed. I lock my ankles together as you pump inside of me, hard, fast. One hand at my nape holds me down, keeps me in my place, and sends me reeling into subspace. Your free hand scratches down my spine and I cry out at the same time you shout my name. Your cum fills me, deep, hot, full. I can feel you in my womb.
You breathe heavy for a moment. Kiss the back of my head. I am prone and flexible. I am putty. Sensing this, you roll back onto your side and pull me close once more. You are inside of me still? Again? I am losing time and consciousness. Your kisses at my nape are sweet.
“Go to sleep now, baby,” you mutter.
I fall into a deep slumber surrounded by and full of you.