tagToys & MasturbationSleeping Beauties

Sleeping Beauties


"Hey, are you sleeping or what?" says a familiar voice as she nudges me lightly.

"I was just resting my eyes a bit; they needed it after several hours," I mumble, slightly annoyed, yet humorously. Feigning offense, Hannah reaches for her luggage; the train has just stopped and everyone is now chaotically gathering their things. I quickly look around and see that my classmates are awake and find that I am the only one still sitting down. We are five that have a very important task ahead of us.

During our last year in high school, in Stockholm, we took a class trip. At first, we had wild ideas--everything from England to southern Europe--but we could only afford a second-class train ticket to Gothenburg and a hostel, which was also a club. We were asked to arrive a day in advance to check out the accommodations--especially since it's not a five-star hotel. It's a huge sacrifice to miss an extra day of school this time of year; officials evaluate graduates' performance from the past three years. Nevertheless, we agreed to leave today. We've just arrived at Gothenburg Station, three boys and two girls ready to tram to the promised land.

The train bell is ringing. I finally manage to find my luggage, but then someone knocks the wind out of me just as I reach for my belongings. Bent over, I look up and into the child's troubled face while her mother apologizes and then pulls her away.

"Talk about a late riser!" laughs Hannah. As I sit down to recuperate, Hannah reaches for a bag that slipped into the bottom of the parcel shelf.

Unconsciously, I turn my head for the best possible view. Hannah's good looking: She has a small smooth face with enough sharp lines. Her sky-blue stretch jersey suggests that her breasts are round and ample. Years of training have provided her with toned, yet feminine legs. Standing on her tiptoes, she arches her back slightly and I study her firm ass--just lovely! She's sweet-looking overall--a mix of classic good-girl with gentle eyes but with the sexiest breasts and ass. While studying her profile, blood rushes through me and leaves me a little annoyed that she's just a friend.

"Come on," John says irritably. "Dull, you can do it!" he continues, helping me up. I rush for my jacket to cover up my "excitement."

"You took a real beating in there," laughs David as we all meet in the center of the station.

I suspect its architect intended it to represent a modernist...forest. I would love to toss our group suitcase at him--it's as heavy as a keg! But since it's John and I's turn to carry it, I just grin silly.

"Had it been us, we'd be sore too!" Kim counters to David, thus defending my honor. She has always fascinated me--and like Hannah, is quite short but maintains an incredible natural sense of authority. She always leads class discussions, and it's not that someone appoints her; she does it automatically. Unsurprisingly, she was voted onto the student council board. Now she leads us to the correct stop.

As usual, following Kim solves anything. Two tram changes and one nutritious meal at McDonald's later, we're almost at the hostel. Once inside, however, we encounter problems. We had booked three double rooms for today and the rest of another until tomorrow, when the remaining portion of the class will come. However, the hostel says our reservation is for tomorrow only. Since I often have trouble sleeping, for which I'm medicated, I was hoping to have my own room tonight.

At reception, Kim is already dividing the two available rooms between us while we lounge on the nearby couch. Sliding into a daydream, I can only hear Hannah, John, and David debate which side of the pillow is best for rest. If only I could stuff their mouths with our mammoth bag! Slowly, I shift my gaze from the dark edge of the pavement outside the window toward Hannah, who faces away; her white panties just barely show.

Kim suddenly exclaims "All right!" right beside me, making me jump.

"Apparently John and David's room is vacant today so for them there's no problem, but the rest of us will share a king-size bed in another room," she announces happily. "They're bringing extra blankets right now."

"Finally. I'm tired as hell," sighs John. The rest of us agree, murmuring.

As we gather the luggage, I consider that she just said "share a king-size bed." Will I be sleeping with the two hottest girls in class? Had I heard right? Ready to be laughed at for having misunderstood, I slowly follow the girls into the room and tentatively place my stuff in a corner.

"I claim the wall side!" cries Hannah, throwing herself on the bed. Kim sighs loudly and asks me to help her set up the group luggage over the small table behind the bed, where no one can stumble on it.

Twenty minutes later, John and David enter our room and finish their third beers shortly thereafter. We discuss everything--and then Kim teases me.

"So is your face," I reply, imitating JD from the TV series Scrubs. Despite that my response is banal and totally inappropriate--not to mention out of context--everyone laughs loudly!

As Kim pulls her heavy sweater over her head, I glimpse at her lovely breasts. Unlike Hannah, whose tight bra shapes her tits flatteringly, Kim lets hers hang naturally; unfortunately, such freedom is often associated with old ladies on a beach, but on this 19-year old girl it's sexier than the push-up alternative. Her knotted blonde hair is longer than Hannah's, who is brunette. But charisma is where they differ most; Hannah's sweet and Kim's smart. My overall impression is that Kim is an attractive mix of intelligence and beauty. I've mentioned her breasts, and perhaps her slender figure, but did I mention her warm smile and sparkling eyes?

"Come back sometime when ," yells David, noticeably irritated, pulling me out of my hypnosis.

"What, uh, ah yes ..." I answer, aloof, before noticing that I've halted the poker game. "Two new," I say, throwing two low cards in the big pile. Everybody looks at me strangely--I've done something--before bursting into laughter.

"Usually you collect cards, not toss them," chuckles Kim over the dying laughter. Such moments clarify how drunk everyone is--and how late it is.

"I'm getting tired," Hannah says, "Shall we go to bed?" This is more of a statement than a question, to which Kim responds with a big yawn. I find this comical and laugh.

As John and David head to their rooms, Hannah ushers me out for privacy. Consequently, the three of us share a tiny bathroom and prepare for bed. Ten minutes later, I'm ready for bed, but am already struggling with the room key. Although I must have been loud, the two girls seem asleep. I'm thrilled they've left me the middle spot--but nothing should "arise" from it. Given my medication, I can't be sure though.

Carelessly, I drag out the pillbox and fumble with the lid. Believe me; sleep is much better if it is naturally.

"Are those for headaches?" says someone suddenly. I can't respond. It's not that I'm ashamed of my condition; it's that I've never stood in my boxers in front of women before.

"Um, yes?" I answer.

"Oh, may I have one then?" asks Hannah.

"Me too! Thanks!" Kim adds.

Now, I could retract what I just said and explain what they're really for. Or not--they're harmless, little white pills that guarantee a good night's sleep after all.

"Sure," I reply, giving one each. But just when I should take my own I pause, however, because the last time I took a sleeping pill with booze I slept for twenty hours straight. "Doh!" says the Homer Simpson in me. I turn quickly, meeting Hannah's eyes.

"Thank you," she says while Kim takes a swig of water after swallowing her own. "Doh! For shame! But they'll just wake up a little later tomorrow."

After hiding the pillbox deep in my toiletries bag, I crawl into bed between the girls. With both hands on my stomach and my fingers locked, there shouldn't be any more mishaps.

"Goodnight," Hannah and I say, but Kim tries the Australian "G'night!" The lights are out.

And as I suspected, time keeps ticking but I'm not tired. Instead of tossing, I turn my head side to side. Squinting now, I think I can see their breasts silhouetted. The quilt responds to my growing hard-on--if it would only stop!

I have to get up. There's a terrible crash as I reach for the light. Perhaps five--no ten--pots have fallen somewhere. But as I switch on the lamp I'm relieved that it was only a few beer cans.

"Nothing's broken," I say, and then exhale loudly. To my surprise, they don't respond, and thus must be sleeping like logs. "Hello? Hello?" I ask Hannah, shaking her legs gently. No response, so I return to my spot--on my back again. A few thoughts pass and my boxers are starting to bulge.

Now that they're sleeping--passed out more or less, I'm braver; stroking my cock with one hand, I study Kim's face and all its fine contours. Her flowery red lips glisten in the moonlight. From there, I enjoy how her breasts stand out beautifully under the shirt--"heavenly" was how some classmates once described them, and now it's evident why.

As curiosity takes over, I pull the quilt to her waist; only a thin baggy shirt covers the lovely pair. I cannot help but lift the veil slowly--an outstanding sight! It almost reminds me of the bits of tits I've seen here and there over the past three years. But to see them in their entirety like this--I've no option but to stop stroking now. Not only that, she lies flat in such a way that her small nipples and areolas perk upward. Suddenly, Kim makes a peep, and I drop the shirt.

She's quiet now, but just to be sure I puff on her hand; these tests turn into caresses, however. While tracing my hand across her silky belly, tiny velvet hairs, fuzz even, tease my fingertips. My cock is as thick as my head; the play must continue. Two fingers dance along her belly button--but enough of that! Her breasts beckon me.

Something shocks me--I must have grazed a nipple. With the same hand, I weigh her breast with one hand; with the other, I stroke her belly. Her small yelps freeze me--yet it's obvious she won't awake; this teases me, and so I experiment by cupping a tit in each hand. The whimpers return though, yet her nipples harden--a dream perhaps? I cannot move.

Despite the gravity of the situation my palm caresses her inner thigh, approaching the cover gathered at her waist. Moments later, all the sheets are crumpled at her ankles. Her white panties make me throb--but touching the moist edges of her bikini briefs, drags me to the edge of no return. She moans softly, even automatically, because instead of awakening this tease invites her to dream. My free hand--I'll never have two now--grips her briefs where her thighs meet. She's warm, and she moistens my hand as it clenches her panties; they touch the covers below. Enjoying the sight of her pink folds and trimmed mound, I barely restrain myself from penetrating her.

Actually, I had intended to "look but not touch." By massaging her swollen labia, my fingers now compromise that. A minor player until now, my thumb titillates her clit. Three fingers comfortably fit in her, and by comfortably I mean still able to manipulate her inner folds. But only two fingers can properly curve into her g-spot and press it into her. Clearly, her hips are responding to the waves, but this also startles me.

Frustrated with my self-restraint, I'll try this: she'll hold my cock. The grip is more reliable than I thought. Her body doesn't expect another hand, another tease, especially on her nipple, and thus her waves become unpredictable from flirting with climax. But then it's evident; her back arches and her legs tighten--even pulsate--as her waves crest. I have to muffle her moans--if not for Hannah, then at least for others. Her orgasm carries through to her hands and up my shaft. With her delicious nipples in my face it's now too much. I lean back and jet my cum in long, thick stands across her. Watching it glaze her tits makes me squirt a few more; but these are lazier, heavier ones, and only drip down her wrist. Once her grip relaxes I return to my spot--between the two most beautiful classmates. Miraculously, Hannah didn't wake up, but I wonder if Kim only dreamed.

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