tagLoving WivesSleeping Beauty

Sleeping Beauty

bydjeroticon©

My first wife was a very sound sleeper, it would take the loudest claps of thunder to rouse her. Once she got to sleep she'd be immobile for hours, especially if she lay on her stomach (which was her favorite position). This I knew because I was just the opposite, often stuck with bouts of insomnia that book-reading would sometimes cure, but I was still awake far longer than she.

New England summers weren't as hot and humid then as they can be now, so even in August an open window was all that was necessary. It was on a particularly warm, moonlit summer's night that I came back to the bedroom after a late-night piss and noticed that Cynthia had tossed off the bedsheet on her side; since we both slept in the raw, the light from our bedroom window gave me a nicely- framed view of her attractive bottom.

I got back into bed and listened to her contented deep breathing. I reflected upon how lucky I was to have her there, how much she meant to me, and how even in her sleep she could arouse me physically. That damned moonlight illuminated her backside so effectively that before I knew it I was sporting an aching erection.

Well, as they say: a stiff prick has no conscience, and mine certainly led the way as I gave in to my feelings and reached out to softly caress the satiny cheeks of her ass. Supple, warm and buttery was her skin as I tentatively ran my fingertips over the generous but well-maintained geography of her derriere, watching for a change in her breathing.

Nothing. The same contented, soft breaths continued, unchanged. Emboldened, I moved down the bed just a little and began to caress her flesh with the palm of my hand, becoming more aroused as each second passed. My desire was caused as much by the novelty of the moment as by the feel of her; it was far from the first time I'd felt her backside up, the difference here was that she was asleep.

She stirred not a bit as my hand roved over her cheeks, feeling both the softness and the musculature beneath. After a bit I used just my fingertips to gently probe the division between them, careful not to use too light a touch as to be ticklish. Her skin was warmer there, and in my mind I imagined what lay in between and below, which caused my arousal to grow more fierce.

I expect part of my strong feeling was the illusion of control; it was a common fantasy of mine (and, I suspect, of others, especially during that rage known as puberty) to be able to magically explore a woman's body at will, without fear of consequence, and even to bring such a fantasy woman to life with my touch. So, here I was, reliving that feeling.

"Cindy?" I whispered, trying to make sure she was asleep. No response. I said her name again, a little more loudly, but still nothing.

I felt my heart pounding with excitement in the silence of the room. A soft breeze drifted through the window as I raised up a bit and rested on my elbow, intent on getting a better view if I could. But there was only so much the moon could impart. I made do with bringing my face as close as possible to her naked form as I ran my fingers slowly down to the juncture of her thighs.

Cindy's legs were tightly held together; did I dare try to urge them to loosen up? I did, feeling the super-smooth flesh of her inner thigh skin give to my touch, gradually, as I painstakingly pushed with the ever-so-lightest pressure of my fingertips. This seemed to take hours, but I feared that rushing things might rouse her prematurely.

I almost gasped aloud when my wife suddenly shifted in her sleep. Holding my breath, I kept my hand in place between her thighs as she miraculously moved them slightly apart and then abruptly settled down. I stayed there, frozen in place, waiting an eternity to be sure her breathing hadn't changed.

"Cin?" I whispered after awhile, and then repeated, "Cin?" Looking back now, it seems silly that my mind started to think up things to say, as some sort of an excuse, should she have awakened right then; I mean, what excuse would suffice, other than telling the truth?

After a long while I continued, even as I wondered to myself what I was doing. Why not just prod her slowly awake and see if she'd be open to making love? Something drove me instinctively along, though, and I'm glad it did.

I caressed her inner thighs with care, urging her to part further. I paid no mind to the aching elbow of my other arm as my palm cupped the base of one ass cheek and my fingers gently probed up and under. I was centimeters or less from her sweet center, and not about to quit.

Taking her steady breathing as encouragement, I took tentatively ran one finger in to probe the lips of her pussy. The soft, sensitive skin there was familiar territory, but in the darkness it seemed like I was discovering her for the first time. I ran my finger up and down her outer labia, testing to see if my touch would change anything. I could feel the fragile hood of her clit, the nub just under that covering, and the barest slickness of her inner flesh. My cock ached and throbbed even as I felt my breath coming in short, worried bursts.

Soon my palm was pressed tightly to her saddle, two fingers stroking at her outer portal. Her thighs had moved gradually more apart from my urgings. By this time I had resigned myself to the fact that I'd be waking Cindy sooner or later, so I concentrated on softly rolling and rubbing her clit. Giving in to my protesting elbow, I carefully put my left knee on the bed between her legs and my other knee outside them, getting into a close crouching position, one that brought the tip of my hardness into soft contact with her upper thigh. Thank goodness the bed didn't creak!

To my satisfaction, Cindy's lower body began to slowly respond. It was slight at first, but I could feel her opening up, and her breathing started to become more pronounced and shallow. Excitedly, I deliberately probed between her pussy lips to test if she was wet, and to my joy my fingertip was met with a familiar, silky dew. Was she still asleep? At that moment, it didn't matter; I'd instinctively gone ahead with my reckless actions and succeeded in arousing her, that was all I could concentrate on.

She started softly rocking against my fingers; growing bolder, I slid my hand almost completely under her and concentrated on steadily but softly caressing her warm cunt, rubbing her clit with my fingers. Cindy took a few long, satisfied-sounding breaths, so I knew I was doing something right. My cock crying out for some sort of touch, I dragged it carefully over the back of her thigh flesh, feeling a bit of my precum smear across her skin.

No doubt about it, my wife was growing very aroused. Whether it was a hot wet dream she was experiencing or she was feigning sleep hardly mattered now, but I hoped it was the former situation. Her hips started to roll slightly and her legs spread more apart, pressing slightly against mine as I straddled her. I could feel her wetness on my fingers.

Purposefully, I shifted slightly to get more comfortable and brought my other hand into play. Carefully I caressed her bottom and softly prized her right cheek apart from the other, giving me better access to her charms. I was howlingly aroused by now, and had to scrunch a bit then to keep my stiffened manhood in contact with her leg, so I'm sure that to anyone bursting into the room right then I'd have looked like some sort of animal. I stayed like that for awhile as I concentrated on bringing my wife as much pleasure as possible, hoping to bring her out of her sleep with a bang; I stroked, rubbed and slid my fingers over, under and into her sex, mindful that if Cindy were awake my insistent movements would have actually been too stimulating for her.

I was rewarded with her responding, all in a rush, as though she were on the short road to a super climax. It was hard to believe that she was still not awake as her hips raised slightly from the bed and she started rhythmically humping at my hand, her breath now ragged, little sounds of pleasure coming from deep in the pillow. My fingers were being ground against, to tell the truth; there was no mistaking the urgency in her movements. It was one of the sexiest memories of my life.

And then she was awake, like that, as though someone threw a switch. "Wha? Derek?" came from the head of the bed, jolting me out of my sexual reverie. The darkness of the room allowed me only to catch the shadow of her face as she struggled to turn it toward me. I marveled that her lower body continued to hump my hand.

"Oh, ohh..." she groaned with passion. I felt her hand reaching back at me. Miraculously, it found my dick just when I needed her touch the most. She grabbed it, moaned again, thrust at my hand more urgently, and then started pushing my swollen member toward her ass.

I came out of my stupor enough to get into position behind my wife just as she managed to struggle herself up onto all fours. I'm happy to say, at just that moment before I entered her willing cunt, the moonlight was coming through the window at just the right angle for me to enjoy the sight of her spread open before my lustful eyes. Even in the dim light I could see the slickness covering her naked sex, and above it the deep crevice of her ass and the cute pucker of her rear entrance.

I was in her like a knife through warm butter. Never had Cindy felt more velvety, wet and tight, all at the same time. And never had she cum so quickly from having me inside her than she did that night; it couldn't have been more than two or three thrusts, thrusts that brought my lower body into such delicious proximity to her needy passion that my groans joined-in with hers, when she tensed and cried out with joy.

Her hips ground at me and her body shook, then ground and shook some more, then began a close, almost violent twisting that culminated in a big backward thrust against me. I held myself fully inside her and grasped that magnificent backside of hers with my hands, feeling her inner muscles spasm around my dick as she came. Now the bed was creaking!

It was very much all I could do not to cum inside her, but I stupidly hadn't prepared myself with a condom and we didn't want any babies; I forced myself to cease moving until my own passion subsided, delighting in the way my wife's orgasm gradually wound down until she collapsed onto the bed, taking me with her.

I reluctantly pulled out and lay by her side, holding her still-shaking form until she finally went still. When she turned sideways to face me I ran a hand down to touch her again, lightly, giving her one or two more pleasurable feels before resting my hand on her face. Wordlessly she reached down to return the favor, finding me still rampant and needy.

We didn't say anything as she languidly stroked me, as familiar lovers know how to do, just kissed deeply as she jerked me up and down, using the remnants of her own arousal as lubrication.

I played with her nipples, bent to suck at them, kissed the deepest part of her neck, and generally enjoyed playing with her luscious body as she continued to bring me pleasure. When, from the urgency of my deep kisses she could tell I was close, Cindy lay on her back and fluffed up the pillow behind her head.

"Bring that up here," she whispered, and soon I was again straddling my wife, this time with my knees on either side of her head. Cindy's practiced hands were manipulating me to the utmost, one cupping my hanging balls and the other stroking my cock as she held it before her face. It was a smooth, unhurried manipulation, one that drew me again and again to the point of orgasm, lessening just as she sensed I was about to cum. All the while she held her mouth open and her tongue outstretched; in the dim light it seemed sexier than ever, more shadowy and dreamlike than the many times she'd done this in better light.

Finally she ceased teasing and brought me all the way. I cried out from intense pleasure as I spurted my seed onto her tongue, over her lips and across her face, barely able to keep from falling over as the cum poured out of the tip of my swollen cock. Cindy waited patiently until I'd spent my load before wrapping her lips just over the head of my dick and swirling her tongue over it. Then she gently sucked at me to wring the last out, milking me into her warm mouth.

"Ready?" she asked sleepily. That meant, was I ready for her to turn on the bedside lamp? She knew how visual a man I am.

"Ready" I agreed. The brightness of the lamp nearly glued my eyes closed, but it was worth it to see my beautiful wife lying naked on the bed, like in some old oil painting, but in this case with her lovely features speckled, draped and smeared with the evidence of the great pleasure she'd given me.

I'll always remember those times. And, in case you're wondering: no, it wasn't the last time I woke her from a dream.

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