Sleeping With My Muse

The whisper of my lips against her ear echoed an irrepressible shudder between us. My nose burrowed into her neck and pillow. Her body sighed. We adjusted, pressing together for warmth from our chilled apartment.

"What time does Maintenance arrive to fix the heat?"

"Sometime tomorrow." She replied still slumbering.

With a smile, I knew she had only partially heard me and wouldn't remember our conversation in the morning. I dozed in and out of sleep throughout the night like usual, reading a digital novel in my palm to pass the time.

I don't know what time I drifted, but I was roused by a wave of air rushing over my body, arching my back in crippling bliss. A glimpse of her voracious expression flashed before my eyes in the middle of rib-rocking orgasm. Her lips devoured my pussy ravenously as her fingers plunged in and out, reeking exuberant havoc as she pillaged my inner walls. My pussy clenched and spasmed against the siege of her delicate aggressions. My chest heaved, voice screamed. Its high pitches rang in our eardrums with lustful vivacity.

I wanted her fingers so eagerly, as she torturously teased me, withdrawing them with such leisure, licking my cum off her pointer, middle and thumb, that I lunged forward and yanked her mouth to mine.

I rolled her over, raised her nightshirt over her stomach, and feathered her with sensual fingertips. Then halted.... A confused expression crossed my face. "How did you get my pajamas off without waking me?"

She grinned excitedly, playfully hiding her expertise, which could only be revenged by my flock of ticklish fingers reaping her squirms and squeals beneath me.

.... We locked eyes. She continued to laugh as I locked her hands above her head and ground into her slowly. The gyration of my hips freed a small, but vividly audible moan from her breathy lips.

I leaned in for a kiss, pecking forehead, cheeks, nuzzling her nose and landing multiple times on her mouth. My tongue backed in and out, building her anticipation.

Her teeth latched my bottom lip, just enough to titillate me, and she lifted her butt to meet me on the strikes and strokes of giving. Grunts building, I grappled both hands under one arm and trailed her front with my newly free hand, grabbing and softly pinching breasts, diaphragm, belly. I went until my hand met the rim of her pants.

Slowly, I slid my hand beneath the elastic band and drew circles on her skin. I dipped in and out of her warmth, drew my fingers to her clit and back down with the rising tides of her excitement.

When she was ready, eyes begging, biting and sucking her bottom lip, we bucked, surfing wave after wave. She screamed, moaning richly against the pounding... pounding... pounding... until our gasps and hollers became the neighbors pounding our wall.

We rolled in laughter and fell to bed, cuddled in sweat, until we curled into a deep, welcoming sleep. Her head and hands were cupped by my chin. Knees embraced my knee. Deliciously pleasant smiles wrapped our mouths. And the warmth of our laughter sheltered our souls for the night, as we dreamed one erotic adventure after the next.

In the middle of tranquility, my beautiful, erotic worlds warped into one hell after another. Tossing and turning, tumultuous waves of nightmares wrecked my heart against the jagged rocks of emotion.

"Sh." She crooned soothingly. Gentle caresses of her breath and hands coaxed my sobs into bitter chokes. "Sh."

My quaking ribcage stuttered beneath the sensitive warmth of her forearm's underside. Her palm clasped my collarbone, nose nested my neck, forehead pressed the back of my head. Two "spoons." One healing the other's bent heart.

Pulsing, calming, beats of her heart massaged the stress in my stricken spine. I felt my muscles relax into her beautiful love -- the passionate magic recited in fairy tales of bards, druids, mermaids, sirens. Her songstress was the songstress every man and woman encounters when sublimity meets love. A point where romance is only a fragment of what could be shared.

I shifted facing her, relieved from worry in the moment we locked eyes. To be before her, was to be completely eased from a swollen, tear-stricken throat. The hyperventilating fears were gone.

Her empathy was the aura of light wrung around the moon, kissing it and I as gently and present as wind. I buckled willingly into her, floating on waves of wise silence. Words were not needed to understand the pain in our hearts and joy for seeing our faces in grace of the full moon's light. I loved her for reasons I could not explain, other than our entities felt separate yet one.

Lips against my lips. Hips against my hips. I rolled into the intoxication of her teeth biting my skin. "Little bit lower," I thought to say, but what better than softly leading her head there by the hair? Playfully, of course, but still physically communicative. Much easier than verbalizing. Less likely to kill the mood.

Somehow without my asking, without signaling in any manner or way, she knew where to go. Giggles and gasps. Swirls of fingers and tongues. Feathering caresses. My every wish was her instinct.

Tiny wet kisses traced the concave of my armpit and chased the curve of my breast. Tongue-tipped bliss. I wanted more and it was granted. Suckles circled my nipple, coaxing moans. With irresistible persistence and the endurance of a marathon runner, she built my desire. I needed no patience, for as her lips grazed my belly button I orgasmed. Her tongue sprung into the small well of tingling treasures and surfed me to shore.

I sighed deliriously as she licked her way to my hips, burrowing into every secret pleasure spot. Her tongue was so close to my... my ...!!!! I arched in ecstasy as her lips took my clit into the warm haven of her mouth.

Her fingers entered my inner temple and massaged its inner walls in worship.