Um 1

"And wide awake." His words were sharp and clear, cutting through the fog in her head. She opened her eyes and blinked.

The first thing she saw was her boyfriend's face. His expression was completely neutral. He was sitting on a chair across from the bed. He was slouched in his usual casual posture, legs crossed, arms crossed over his chest.

"Did you have a nice nap?" he asked. His tone was bland.

All she could do was blink at him. She was too confused and groggy to do anything else.

"Um" was all she could reply. A wave of warmth rolled over her. She found herself smiling too, probably a little vapidly. She didn't care, though. She was still waking up -- she was entitled to be a little fuzzy after waking up from a nap.

Had she been napping? She didn't remember lying down for a nap. There was light streaming through the bedroom window, which meant it was midday. She didn't really nap during the day unless she wasn't feeling well. Was she sick? Maybe that would explain the mental fuzziness. She blinked again.

"You're feeling a little fuzzy, aren't you?" her boyfriend asked. His tone was no longer bland. On the surface, it was solicitous. Yet, there was an undercurrent of condescension.

"Um," she replied. There was that feeling of warmth again. The warmth made her feel happy, lighter. She shook her head. Why couldn't she say anything more than "um"?

"It's okay to feel fuzzy," he continued. Now, he wasn't even trying to be solicitous. The condescension was loud and clear.

Her brow furrowed. The condescension bothered her. Well, it sort of bothered her. She would normally feel more bothered by guys being chauvinistic. However, she couldn't get that worked up about it right now. It just didn't seem important.

She couldn't get worked up about much of anything, actually. The fog swirling around her brain when she first woke up hadn't dissipated. If anything, it had gotten thicker. Her thoughts struggled to break through the fog. As the fog thickened, she gave up on thinking.

Giving up on thinking, letting the fog surround her brain, should have bothered her quite a bit. She prided herself on being smart. All her life, people had told her how smart she was. If they could see her now...

She decided she would take a break from thinking until the fog cleared. Maybe if she were awake for a bit longer, she'd be less fuzzy. She blinked again.

"You're having a lot of trouble thinking right now, aren't you?" her boyfriend asked. "Like I said, it's okay to feel fuzzy. You don't need to think."

Those last words were really condescending. She furrowed her brows again. It should have bothered her quite a bit. Yet, where there would normally be anger, there was apathy. Acceptance, even.

"Um," she repeated.

The wave of warmth was stronger this time. It was more targeted, too. She felt it between her legs. She rubbed her thighs together -- not so the warmth would dissipate, so that it would last a bit longer.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked. "Are you getting a little warm, maybe?"

How did he know? She wondered. "Um," she responded. This time, it wasn't warmth, but heat that flowed through her. It was especially strong between her legs.

"You might feel better if you took off your tank top," her boyfriend suggested.

She looked down. She never slept in a tank top. Tank tops always got bunched up, or the straps slipped down. Why was she wearing one, now? She decided not to think about it. Instead, she pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. Tossing clothes aside was something else she'd never do. She was far too much of a neat freak to simply leave clothes lying around without folding them and putting them away.

But she didn't care about that right now. Her boyfriend was right, it did feel better without her tank top on. The cool air washed over her. Her nipples hardened in response.

"Isn't that better?" he asked. His voice had become slightly husky.

"Um," she replied.

The heat grew, and with it, a feeling of pleasure. She giggled. That was weird -- she wasn't the type to giggle. She was normally a serious person. But right now, she felt... what did she feel? Definitely not serious. Serious people didn't sit on the bed shirtless, with their nipples becoming harder and harder, and their panties getting wetter. She giggled again. Giggling felt good. It felt right.

"Is something funny?" he asked, a sly smile spreading across his face.

"Um," she answered, giggling again. The more she giggled, the better she felt. She felt loose, free, warm, sexy. Also horny, a little voice said. It cut through the fog. The voice was very decisive. Yes, she felt horny. Without thinking about it, she began running a finger over her nipple.

She heard his breath catch. "Does that feel good?" he asked, his voice uneven.

"Ummm," she moaned.

It did feel good. Her other hand began playing with her other nipple, which felt even better. With every stroke and circle, a shot of pleasure went straight to her core. She felt her panties grow even wetter.

She was only wearing panties. That was also weird, if she thought about it. She would always wear pajama pants to bed. She decided not to think about it.

"Why don't you take off your underwear?" her boyfriend suggested. His breathing was becoming more ragged.

How did he know she was only wearing panties under the blanket? She decided not to think about that, either. Taking off her underwear was a good idea, she admitted, although it would mean she'd have to stop playing with her nipples.

Her brow furrowed in concentration. How could she solve this problem?

Fortunately, her boyfriend came to the rescue. "Let me help you," he said.

He sat down on the bed. She hadn't noticed him getting undressed. He must have done it when she was playing with her nipples. He slid her now very wet panties down her legs. She didn't protest or make any move to stop him. Her hands were too busy, and she was enjoying playing with her nipples too much.

"I can make this even better," he said softly, leaning towards her. He kissed her bare shoulders, down her arms.

"Ummm," she moaned again. His kisses left a trail of heat on her skin.

"Lie back," he instructed, gently guiding her down onto the pillow. Then, his hands and lips were everywhere -- her breasts, her stomach, her legs. She let out another moan. A tsunami of pleasure threatened to overwhelm her.

Just when she thought he couldn't feel any better, his fingers slid inside of her. He flexed them, moving them in a come-hither motion. She held her breath. It felt good -- no, it felt amazing -- but that little voice in her head told her it would feel even better. Her body relaxed into the pillow.

It did get better. He slid a third finger in. She was full to the brim, filled by him. She sighed happily. Wait, it's going to feel really good soon, the voice said. The voice was right. His fingers continued to flex inside of her. A pressure built up between her legs. It was hot and insistent. She squirmed. The pressure was wonderful, yet she needed a release from it.

Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers. She let out a disappointed cry. He grinned at her.

"Don't worry, I have something better," he panted.

He sat up and placed her on his lap. She sat on something smooth and hard. She shifted her weight. She was full once again. This feels good, the little voice said. She silently agreed.

He put his hands on her hips. "You feel incredible," he whispered as he kissed her neck.

She responded by rocking back and forth in his lap. The rocking brought forth a moan from him. The pressure was back. It was building slowly, yet she could feel it.

His finger found its way between her legs, to that bundle of nerve endings just above the point where they were joined.

"Ahh," she moaned.

He rubbed lightly, slowly. She wanted to scream at him to go faster, harder. All she could say was "um," and she was having trouble getting even that much out.

Somehow, he understood her. His finger moved faster and faster. The pressure mounted higher and higher. Then, it flooded its banks. Her body stiffened, then slumped as the pleasure pulsed through her. She heard him moan from a distance, felt him shudder against her. She couldn't focus, though. Her head lolled against his shoulder. Her eyes closed. Behind her closed eyelids, stars winked merrily.

She felt her boyfriend lower her body back onto the pillow. He gently kissed her shoulder. A sleepy smile spread across her lips.

"Did you like that?" He ran a finger along her jaw.

"Um," she moaned. A mild wave of warmth washed over her.

"You want your vocabulary back yet?" Her boyfriend's tone was playful.

She wrinkled her nose. She spent so much time being smart, so much time being serious. This was way more fun, this feeling of being loose, silly, horny. She shook her head.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Um," she moaned again. And smiled.