It seems weird when I write it, but this did happen this summer.
The next night I am lying on my back. Again, I am seemingly deep asleep; my hands behind my head acting like a pillow, elbows akimbo. I am content, blissfully unaware of the world and its woes, with my fiancé alongside me.
Again, I am wearing a little nightie – this one is a different colour - red, with frilly, lacy, white edges – but my figure is the same; mature, shapely, 27-year-old and fleshy, 5 foot 5, petite, 32 C, size 10, almost 12, big in the right places, small in the right places. My skin is brown and my black hair is shoulder-length.
James, my boyfriend, says that I lay on my back, my legs bare and beautiful, long and sexy, exposed to the world, my naked arms so dainty, my neck so biteable, my vulnerability so charming. He waited and stared at me, already hard, already naked himself, waiting, waiting, waiting, expecting something amazing to happen.
Eventually, well after midnight, it started.
It started with a murmur, like before; a gentle moaning, tossing, some heavy breathing. I was fast asleep, but moved my hands down to my hips and pulled my nightie up to uncover my sex – a small patch of black hair...oh gosh. James says my thighs parted, my knees parted. 'Mmmmm, oh, oh, ah, ah...yes' as if someone were fingering or licking me, but no one was there. Just me. My hands were both dormant, one on each hip. No one was touching me. 'Oh yes, I like that. Oh! Oh!' I was talking in my sleep.
James started stroking his cock, up and down, slow and thick and big. He was soooo aroused. I looked so fucking hot, he said. 'Oh, ah, ah,' I was beginning to orgasm, like I normally do with James, but this time alone. My legs were parting wider, flat now on the mattrass. I was fast asleep but I was talking. 'Yes, baby, like that, oh, ah.' I lifted my nightie upwards, above my Bollywood-belly-button...
