Midnight Masturbation Madness

It was nothing in particular.

It was everything in general.

I rolled onto my other side, flipping the pillow under my head, pushing the sheets off my shoulder, then pulling them back over my head. Rolling onto my back, I exhaled slowly, wishing to purge all this restlessness from my body.

It didn't work.

Staring at the ceiling, I listened to Carlo's small rumbling snores. I envy his ability to drop off into peaceful slumbers while I'm left to fret over my churning emotions that keep me wide-eyed in the darkness. A dull agitation throbs somewhere inside. Loose, dangling and unfinished thoughts swarmed through my brain like angry insects, before they buzzed off, carrying with them any hopes of settling in for a night's restful sleep.

With fitful spasms, my legs cross, then draw up under me before I extend them under the loosened covers. My hands run through my tangled hair, tossing the strands over the pillow before I slip my palms under my head to prop up my skull filled with stewing half-formed ideas. Without any real intention, my restless right hand drifts further under the sheets. My tossing and turning has let my nightie ride up above my waist, aimless fingertips brushed over the slinky fabric of my exposed underwear.

The pleasant tactile sensation from my fingers gliding over my silky undies brings a tiny diversion to my unsettled mind.

This feels nice, I think.

Not yet wholly mindful of what I'd discovered to be a soothing touch, my fingers follow a meandering course, I'm aware that the smooth feel of these satin panties might substitute for the choppy pattern agitating my mind and denying me rest.

Using a light touch, the tips of my fingers skip across my bare belly. They trickled down the sides of my hips, my unintentional caressing brings on a peacefulness which begins to settle upon my fitful mind. I concentrate on the feelings that have begun to permeate my loins. Subtle, calming emotions spread through my soul as I linger, touching my abdomen. In the bedroom darkness, a dawning awareness of where this gentle traveling of my fingertips might lead, begins to well up within my body.

I pause to listen; is Carlo still asleep? I'm convinced he remains in dreamland.

Those feely fingers make a slow migration further down, not so much willed by me, but more as if I absentmindedly left them on their own to pursue their own curious business. My senses are piqued as I find them pressing into my pubic hair matted beneath the fabric. Four fingers make slow, grinding circles, accentuating the experience of my coarse fuzzies being brushed into the soft, secret territory just above my inner sanctum.

I find that I am easing into a pleasant place. The swirling currents that had me so stirred all night have begun to ebb. A slow progression to the lower regions brings a purposed peace mixed with some awakening possibilities.

Another check on the man slowly breathing next to me assures me that it's safe to proceed - should it happen that I wander into self-pleasure activities.

The hand rolls gently toward the pouting ridges of sensitive flesh rimming my cleft. I draw a single finger up toward my navel. Then I run that one index finger back down. With repeated slow, deliberate strokes I have stoked the embers of sensuality and they begin to glow, warming me within.

This feels nice, I think again.

I embrace these warm, tingling pleasures along with the billowing cloudy softness that envelops the whole of my being. I find I am drifting away from the night's earlier turmoil, leaving prickly anxiety in my wake as I float into a place filled with round and voluptuous feelings.

Rubbing up and down, I let my fingers run deeper into that fertile furrow. The pursed folds wrapped over my feminine hollow are eased aside with a dreamy motion as I notice that my diddling has made me dewy, dampening the cloth resting above my intimate canyon. Naughty delight edges into my mind; I tell myself, you're a naughty little girl, rubbing your panties into that salivating vagina and getting everything all wet down there. Indulging in this forbidden thrill seems to have gotten me into a moist, nasty little mess. I explore further, pushing the wet crotch fabric onto my engorged clitoris.

I want, or maybe need, to play with my lady parts more, but I'm terrified I will get caught if I make too much noise or motion. It's a challenge to be simultaneously excited and stealthy. The erotic charge rippling through my loins edges me further into my selfish solo service. I find it increasingly difficult to control my reactions to avoid waking Carlo. I fear my husband will be upset if he catches on to my midnight masturbation madness.

The magnetic pull of an excited clitoris draws my right hand under the lacy elastic waistband after a pause to listen to Carlo breathing, hoping that my self-teasing does not disturb him, waking him up and forcing me to stop. The desire to rub small circles over my juicy spot is strong. My desire is growing stronger than my fear. I want what I want. I don't want to be caught. I don't want to be forced to stop.

I feel guilty, keeping my lust for self pleasure all to myself while hiding my simmering passion from my lover. My guilt shames me, knowing that I risk angering Carlo if he discovers me seeking secret satisfaction. I believe I should share my sexual feelings with my husband. But I'm not going to - not now.

Am I a bad wife, if I want all of this just for me and only me tonight?

I wonder, am I cheating on him?

Should I stop? Or should I continue?

I plunge my finger into my slippery slit and in so doing answer my own doubts; I am going to keep my dirty little personal playtime a secret session. I promise myself I will be discreet and I will avoid the embarrassment of being caught.

A small moan escapes from my lips as two fingers slip between my labia, parting their nectar-bathed folds and sweeping those two magic fingers up beneath my pink nub. She demands more. I must obey. Dipping my fiddle fingers into the honey hole, I coat my puffy clit with natural lube. My body sinks into a widening abyss of expanding, heated craving.

Another tiny moan avoids my efforts to suppress my sex sounds as I straight stroke and then switch to press tight loops around my pink hotspot.

***

Carlo lies still beside me.

The room has closed in on itself, the space around me feels small. I feel something invisible wrapped around me. A metaphysical cocoon encases my mind and body, blocking out external stimuli. I am swept away by an enchanting sex spell, as happens when I drop deep into masturbating madness.

Carlo remains still, his back to me.

I don't notice that he has shed his deep slumber.

Not that he has been awakened by the murmuring sounds coming from his lover's solo pleasure, but rather from an uncanny sense resonating within his soul. No touch. No sound. No words. Only a mystic bond born of years together as lovers, has drawn Carlo out into consciousness. He senses what I'm doing as if communicated by an aurora of my mystic sexual vapors rising up from my soul and seeping into his.

Succumbing to the hot, gooey passion of my secret solo session makes me feel hedonistic and naughty tonight. The worry of being caught selfishly having sex only for myself is mixed with the growing physical sensations of my stimulated knockin' knob. Physical pleasure overrides mental anguish as I tense my pelvic muscles and thrust my twat into my palm, palpating the sweet, shy princess.

Compelled by the last modicum of hesitation remaining between my legs, I pause again to check on Carlo's state of consciousness. His silent stillness belies his state of awareness as he listens to the rustle of my knuckles against the sheets and the unavoidable sloppy wet sounds a girl is just going to make when she is devoted to petting her pussy.

Concerned that if I'm too vigorous in my singular, selfish solo session; Carlo will be alerted to my guilty clandestine activity and then my pleasure party will be over. I downshift, rubbing Miss Rosebud with tiny taps and petite coaxing strokes. She is wet, slippery, sticky, swollen, sensitive and hot. And demanding.

The go-slow approach under my knickers only ratchets up the building intensity and I fear that I can't play it both slow and quiet. I'm scared something's going to give. Because sometimes a girl just has to let out moans or screams, she can't help it. If that happens, I'll blow my cover and then I'm going to get into trouble once Carlo finds out I'm enjoying fucking myself without him.

Consequences be damned. I've paddled myself too far down this stream, there's no going back without reeling in the all-consuming Big O. I've allowed myself to be seduced into masturbating next to my poor, left-out loverboy. I didn't mean to go this far. I realize it's too late, I can't help myself from bringing on total personal euphoria.

Struggling to keep it lowkey on the surface; my insides are tensing as pressure builds in my uterus. I drift skyward, my veins feel fizzy. I am climbing higher, strong female sexual forces are pulling me toward the peak of convulsing orgasmic heights.

Despite my precautions, my husband has figured out that I'm galloping on a furtive, wild midnight ride; how could I think I could keep my personal pussy playtime undetected while lying next to him?

I'm unaware that my masturbatory machinations have aroused him not only from his sleep but aroused him sexually until he could restrain himself no longer.

He flips around to snuggle me, his hand cups and caresses my right breast. Running his palm across my hard, towering nipple, confirming that I'm sexually charged and my hot blood is streaming into my feminine features; nipples, labia and clit and all those tingly lady things hidden deep inside.

Squeezing my titty tip, he whispered into my ear, "You go girl. You need this bad."

I get excited. Maybe it's his encouraging whispers that does it for me. Maybe it's his firm compression of my playful nipple which always helps me along that does it for me. But maybe, I think it's being caught while diddling in secret that is so exciting for me this midnight session. Carlo bunches my breast tissue and feeds my protruding pink pinnacle between his lips and begins sucking me into his hot liquid mouth, slow and with an undulating, sensual rhythm.

When my slippery nipple escapes from between his teeth, he says, "I can tell sucking and licking the girls up here is making you wet down there - isn't it?"

I have no words, just an urge to make my innards shoot electric sparks all the way to my toes. I'm so naughty to be enjoying myself this much without having told Carlo. But I'm too far gone to care if my left-out lover is upset with my little midnight masturbation; the 'swoops' have started creeping up on me and have seized my screamy, creamy girly parts.

"That's all right girl, no need to answer. You go and finger fuck yourself the way you know you want it. I love the sound of your wetness sloshing around as you rub your thickening twat under the sheets."

His words come to me as if through a dense fog, as my ear holes are made tiny by the fuzzy fermentation in my head. Yet the sense that my lover's words are gentle to me, heightens my self-interest, concentrating my focus on my own lustful passion.

Contractions underneath warm skin propels me higher up the erotic slope, I sense I'm approaching the peak. I vary the intensity of the pressure on my clitoris, making sure that I have her agitated and primed with explosive volcanic desire before I pull her trigger and let her erupt in a body-rattling orgasm. I'm pushing her closer to the edge. At any moment I will be too close and I will plummet into that emotional cauldron. I will free fall into glittering space as the volcano within extruded rivers of molten fluids throughout my guts.

My lover caresses my breasts as he nips at my ear, breathing heavy as he listens to my moans. I'm quite near to caving in on myself and he knows it. He moves his hand off my chest and brings it to my lower belly where he can feel the undulations rolling through my lower body. Carlo begins to massage my pulsating womb, as muscles tighten and then relax, only to clinch again as I come close to shattering into a million uncontrolled orgasmic reverberations.

I erupted.

I holler loud and long.

I scream out holy blasphemy.

"Good girl. I want you to cum for me. You gotta moan and scream like a greedy bitch - don't you? I want to hear you cry and beg for a craving good fuck. Fuck yourself, make your pussy flow hot and sexy. That's it, good girl. Give it to me girl!"

Carlo's husky words in my ear made my innards rattle and roll. My chest was heaving, trying to catch enough air so that I could give him those orgasmic screams that he was demanding.

His teeth clamped down on my nipple and I gave him a long, exhausting high-pitched moan as a series of violent orgasms shook the bed and then shook the breath out of me before they began to trail off into midnight's shadows.

***

"You're not mad?" I asked, after I took a few minutes to collect myself as Carlo caressed my body, head to calves, with tender touches.

"I have never been privileged to witness anything as beautiful, simple, wholesome and so submersed in sensual sexuality as those orgasms rolling so naturally out of my very own lover lady."

I sprang on top of my man and gave him a deep, affectionate kiss on the lips in response to his comforting words.

Carlo's rigid rod was poking into my belly as I unlocked our lips. "I was afraid you'd be angry with me if you caught me masturbating rather than letting you fuck the night-frets out of me. I was trying to hide what I was doing because I was feeling guilty about leaving you out. I'm sorry, sweetie."

"Sorry for what? Sorry that you enjoyed your guilty me-time, or sorry that I caught you?"

Carlo pulled me to him so that I could feed him my left nipple. He sucked on me as he waited for me to answer. I arched up, rubbing my belly over his erection. "I guess I was feeling guilty about nothing in particular, but kind of everything in general. I felt like a bad wife for leaving you out of sex. And I knew I was a naughty little girl for keeping my hot desires and feely fingers all to myself."

Carlo squeezed my ass with both hands as I made slow gyrations, pressing my abdomen against his upright staff. "So, my little foxy self-fucker, are you still feeling guilty?"

"Well, maybe a little... but I might be able to make amends for leaving you out of the first go 'round. I have a feeling in my stomach that there could be a make-up Round 2 in your future." My vigorous grinding and rubbing against his stump sticking into my stomach emphasized my proposition. "If you know what I mean - and I think you do."

"Come on over here Sparky," I crooned as I slid off of Carlo's midsection, wrapping my fingers around his hot rod and bending him to my lips. "Now, let's get this spark plug just as wet as I am down there. Then let's see if you can screw this spark plug of yours tight into my cylinder and crank it to ignition," I coaxed as I took his cock deep into my mouth.

Carlo grabbed my hair and forced me to take all of him in. "I love it when you talk dirty while you give me 'gearhead' head," he said in a throaty whisper. "You sure know how to get to me. You know how much I love fast cars and slow women."

"In that order?" I asked as I paused, threatening to stop the fellatio if I didn't hear the answer I wanted.

"Yeah, in that order - but I think my discovery of your little self-indulgent escapade change my opinion of you as a 'slow woman,' I now know you're a 'fast woman.' That changes everything, I love fast women and fast cars, in that order."

Once I came up for breath, I made him an offer, "In that case, let me check your dipstick mister." This got a chuckle, but I kept up my servicing efforts, slowly licking and lubing his undercarriage with my spit until he fell back into a lusty idle. "Oh dear," I teased, staying with the 'fast cars' and 'fast women theme', "I think we better bring you into my shop for servicing; you could use a lube job on this chassis."

"Honey," I said, once I got him tuned up and his sex machine purring at the proper rpm's, "I'm sorry I went on a joyride all by myself tonight. I hope you'll forgive me." I spoke soft and seductive as I kept stroking his crankshaft in a firm, polishing motion. "I was feeling guilty until you helped me find another gear and with your sweet skills, you shifted me into overdrive. I loved it, Carlo! And I want to make it up to you. Now that I'm back from my midnight ramble, I'm going to let you drive. Are you ready to hop inside and take control? Go ahead and drive me crazy. I'm going to give you the ride of your life."

Without a word, Carlo roughly tossed me over onto my stomach and lifted my ass up. His broad hands slapped my backseat upholstery, I squealed as he took control. He floored it, driving recklessly into my love tunnel hell bent for leather. His male tool slammed into my female socket, forcing my vaginal walls open wide.

I moaned as he fit snugly inside my welcoming groove. "Oh sweet baby!" I cried out. "You feel so good when you stuff me like that, filling me with your manliness."

He pumped me fast and furious, my thighs trembled as his hard prick thrust like a high performance piston into my tight cylinder. Carlo gripped my hips like they were the wheel of a stock car being driven around the final curve and heading down the straightaway.

I urged him on to fuck me to the finish line. "Do me baby. Do me hard," I cheered. "Pound that pussy. Oh god Carlo, you're driving me wild. That's my boy, pound me, pump me, come get me. Drive into me and cum inside me baby." My words drove him into a fucking frenzy.

He opened the throttle, his shaft stroking hot and heavy along my slippery track, pulling my hair with each grinding pelvic thump. He commanded, "Rub your clit, rub her hard while I slam into your pink velvet walls with my balls. Rub that twat so that you cum with me; girl I want you to cross the finish line with me."

Bracing with one arm, I reached between my quivering thighs to twist my thunderbolt. I dropped tits first to the sheets, shifting to give my lover a good angle to drive me toward the home stretch. Clenching my waist, he plunged deep inside, mashing my cervix. His muscles contracted as he gasped and grunted. I felt a shimmy run through his loins as he ejaculated with a powerful recoil. My sex chamber was filled with hot, sticky sperm, the aftermath of a massive male orgasm. My inner thighs were bathed by creamy juices oozing from my vagina. I love to let my husband cum inside me.

***

"Sweetheart, you won! But I think you blew a gasket right there at the end. All kinds of fluids leaked out as you crossed the finish line."

"I won? I didn't see you wave the checkered flag," Carlo pouted in mock surprise.

"Well, I was reaching down to touch myself like you told me, I was getting ready to wave that checkered flag on my clit, but you finished before I could get it up and wave it properly. You just set some new track record, you are a champion lover, sweetie."

"Damn, that was a fantastic run. I admit, watching and listening to you secretly play with yourself got me quite revved up. You are so hot when your face torques up when you are getting close to an orgasm. Damn that is so hot!"

"Really? I thought you'd be angry if you found out I was leaving you out of the fun."

"Did I get left out of the fun? I had great fucking fun driving a wet and wild woman across the finish line. But I've shot my wad and I've blown a nut gasket. Roll me into the bay, I'm done for the night."

***

"Carlo, do you remember that car racing movie, 'Talladega Nights?'"