Sleepy Fun

**Author's Note** In my mind, in the core of my being; nothing hurts more than sexual rejection. So much of who I am is wrapped up in who I am sexually - and much of my feelings of self-worth and how I feel loved are deeply intertwined with sex and sexual attentions. As a young girl, and up into my adulthood, it has been a struggle to look at myself and my past traumas; and how they have played a huge part in shaping who I am. Where in the past, sexual rejection would send me into a tailspin of emotions and risky behavior, now I feel more frustration than intense hurt. While it does sting - there is a broken core of a little girl inside of me who just wants to be used until I fall into delirium and kept as a fucking toy - I now acknowledge and accept those emotions, inform my partner of how I feel, and find an alternative way to alleviate my frustration. Often, this is done by reading erotic literature, perhaps by drawing a snapshot of what I want - dick, fucking, teasing, sex. Many times, it is accomplished by masturbating. Once, it was done by using my sleeping partner as an aid in my pleasure - the memory still gives me that delicious tingle deep inside.

**

My lover lay sleeping next to me, and I lay with the disquiet and the ache inside my groin. At first, I lay next to him, working myself up to try this, did I dare run the risk of waking him up? If he did wake up, would he be angry that I was - essentially - molesting him? As these thoughts and questions ran through my head, I started to get excited at the prospect of doing it without his knowing; of using him. It felt thrilling, and as my heart started racing, I tried to sidle my hips up against him. He continued to breathe in and out slowly, clearly peacefully asleep on his back. I lay there next to him, feeling the heat coming off his sleeping form, and I so badly wanting him to touch me. I longed to feel the weight of his hand on my naked body, running up over my hips and tracing down the small of my back over my ass. High on the thought of his hand on me, I gently reached up and took his hand off his stomach, and placed it on my thigh.

He signed, and his fingers moved against my skin, making my heart race. I did not want him to wake up, I wanted to keep playing, to see if I actually could make myself come, with him, without his ever being the wiser. His hand was warm on my skin, heavy, and I slowly rubbed my own palm over it, simulating that he was caressing the tops of my thighs. He was still breathing deeply beside me, and I felt my pussy aching, I wanted his hand there!

I lay still, letting his hand rest atop my skin. I relished the warmth and weight of it. I think of times before, when he deliberately would move my thighs apart, and trail his fingers along the insides of my thigh to skim against my labia. He likes to tease me, to make so horny that I can't stand it. I think he likes it when I beg him, when I am so tortured that all I can get out is "please" over and over. His hand was warm and still on my thigh, one of my hands gently caressed my breast, while the other hovered over his, gently pressing his fingertips into my flesh. As I gently rolled my nipple between my fingertips, my breathing shallow and quick - but quiet and stealthy - I moved his hand with my other so that his hand was falling slightly on my mons pubis.

The beating of my heart sped up, and I wanted so badly to push up into his grasp, but I didn't dare. He mumbled a bit in his sleep, his deep voice thick and breathy, and I pinched my nipple as his hand fluttered, trying to pull back. I did not grip him with the hand on top of his, but I did not allow his gentle resistance to move his hand. I was thrilled by the thought of him being unaware of how I was using him. Letting these delicious thoughts run through my head, feeling the weight of his hand on my naked pussy, I caressed the top of his hand with one, and used the other hand to alternate between pinching and tugging gently on my nipples.

Feeling brave, I inched my body slowly up beside him in bed. Now his hand was directly on my labia, his fingers trailing softly along my slit, teasing me. He shifted a bit in his sleep, and the slight movement was sent down his arm as a few tremors in the tips of his fingers. His finger tips curled up into me, and the jolt and fear that he was waking made me catch my breath. I could feel my vagina swelling with desire, feel the damp wanting to leak from me. I stilled, one hand on his, between my legs, and the other resting atop my breast. I bit my lip, hoping he wouldn't wake up, that he wouldn't roll away from me and pull his arm from my grasp; hoping that I could finish what I had started.

Slowly, deliberately, with heart racing and vagina aching, I continued to move his hand more firmly over my groin. I moved my body until I was laying next to him with my legs spread as much as they could, my own hand trapping his against me. I lay there, thinking about how in his waking moments, he could expertly tease me until I am a wet and ready hole for his cock. I lay there next to him, listening to his quiet and steady breathing, feeling his hand laying still except for slight sleep tremors, and thinking about this; I could feel myself leaking - and I gently pressed his index finger down so that it parted my lips. Gently, I raised my hips up while pressing/holding his hand with my own. I could feel his fingertip applying pressure on my clitoris. By rocking my hips slowly and deliberately, I could simulate him gently teasing against my clit. I bit my lip, wishing that I could feel his finger thrust up inside me.

This thought got me more excited, and I applied more pressure to his finger as I ground my hips up into him. His finger tip twiched against me, as he mumbled in his sleep, and my clit sparked with delicious tingles from the feeling. I really wanted something inside me. Feeling bold, I inched up a bit more, and guided his hand to see if I could slip his finger inside my vagina. The feeling was delicious, using his malleable and sleeping hand to pleasure myself. I could only get the tip of his finger inside me - but it was enough. His hand lay heavy on my mons pubis, so while I pressed his finger up into me, the weight of his hand stimulated my clit.

Now I worked his finger up inside me. My heart raced when he murmured beside me, and my pussy clenched when his fingertip jerked inside me, hooking up into me as he tried to make a fist in his sleep. I kept my own hand firmly over his own, persuading that fingertip to stay at the entrance of my vagina, slipping into me as I lifted my hips against him. I could feel the pressure building inside me, a pressure that when burst would wash me in blessed release. I worked towards that end, coaxing his finger as deep into my vaginal canal as I could, luxuriating in the way it slipped over my clit with the rhythm of my motions. I bit my lip, wanting to come so badly.

Slow, so slowly - and unlike my usual gluttonous rush to orgasm - I pleasured myself with his hand. Each time he mumbled or moved in his sleep, I had to pause and wait for him to resume his peaceful slumber. My tenacity paid off, and I shuddered breathlessly and felt the orgasm go through me like shockwaves. I kept his hand pressed up into me, and felt myself squeezing against his finger tip. My hips pressed up into him, pressing my clit for each wave of orgasm. As my orgasm subsided, I gently caressed his hand. My breathing slowed, even as the throbbing in my clit and the warmth in my groin grew.

I guided his hand back onto his sleeping form, and turned on my side to press up against him. He sighed in his sleep, and followed suit, turning on his side away from me. Smelling his scent, basking in his warmth, I sidled up against him, and curved myself to match his posture. Even though I had come, the thrill of using him, of not being penetrated to my depths; I still felt the sexual desire coursing through me. I wanted to come again.