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The first part of Spooning (Lyn’s Night) was posted in December, 2009 and not taken down, but Matt’s Day and the Epilogue were taken down for publication. The repost will restore all 3.
Spooning (Lyn’s Night)
We went to bed spooned, as we often do, but this evening I just couldn’t seem to fall asleep. My mind wouldn’t relax, and my body, though comfortable, wouldn’t really let go. You know how that happens sometimes. The mundane niggling events of the workday just wouldn’t leave my head. I tried to distract myself with songs, memories, even sheep for goodness sakes, but nothing worked.
I was about to excuse myself from the bed and go to the den to read or watch the tube or something, but stopped as I moved my hand to tap my Matt’s arm. He was fast asleep. His long deep breaths were an instant giveaway. He rarely pretends to be asleep, but when he does, I can always tell, his breathing is never quite the same.
I sighed. It would be a chore to get him up if I really wanted to. Matt sleeps like a hibernating bear. It would take something akin to an air-raid siren in the bedroom to wake him when he’s really out. His left arm was wrapped possessively over my side, elbow by my navel, hand resting against my right breast. His right arm lay under both of us, passing under my right side with the palm and fingers of that hand resting on the top of my right leg. Though we often slept in positions similar to this I never wondered until now whether his arm ever fell asleep like that. Matt never mentioned it, at least.
I was curled in an almost fetal position, with Matt wrapped around me like a giant cape. I’m pretty petite, and he’s not, so I always feel… enveloped when we lie like this, only rarely do I find it uncomfortable or feel stuck. Almost always its more a feeling of security and warmth. This evening I was even more aware of it as I listened to him breathe and felt his chest expand and contract against my back. I felt totally safe. I felt happy. I dropped my left hand onto his and snuggled into him, content just to listen to and feel him for the rest of the night, or at least for now.
Sometime later I felt him get hard. A little shiver passed up my spine as I thrilled to the warm stiffening pressing between my legs. I read that most men get erections several times a night while they sleep, even if they aren’t having sexy dreams. My Matt is no exception. His cock was pointing down between our legs along our bodies. It pressed into the joining of my legs as it tried to rise. I wondered what he was dreaming about, if anything. Was it sexy? Was it about us? We’re monogamous, but we’ve both shared and play-acted fantasies, and dreams, of course, have no moral restrictions at all.
Images and memories of past dreams and games played in my own head, from silly things like “speeder seduces cop” and “quarterback nails cheerleader” (or vice versa) to elaborate candle and rose petal bath scenarios. From there my thoughts drifted to heavier stuff like “interrogating the prisoner” and “knocking up (name Matt’s infatuation of the month).”
I realized I was getting turned on.
A familiar pre-arousal tingling spread through my abdomen to my sex. But while I’d been fantasizing, Matt had subsided. I still felt his member between my upper thighs, but it was softer now, not pressing into me. I thought for a while. I could push my way out of our cuddle, roll him over with effort and get his attention. He doesn’t wake up to noises or jostling, but past experience has shown that a little brunette swallowing or impaling herself on his prick did work as a reveille call. But no. Even though sleepless, I was tired, and it felt too good now simply to have him around me.
If I moved my legs a bit, I could probably play with myself, masturbate in the embrace of my sleeping lover. That seemed like a decent idea, so I gave it a try, raising my left leg a few inches and reaching my left arm down over his, sliding over my belly into my pubic patch, to start teasing myself with slow caresses of my own fingertips. I was a little more ready – and randy – than I’d thought, and my own wetness quickly coated my fingers. I tried to keep as still and quiet as I could – an instinct I followed even though I almost certainly didn’t need to worry about waking Matt. I couldn’t help, however letting out some small sighs of pleasure and wiggling my lower body back against Matt just a little bit as I played.
It didn’t take long before I felt Matt rising again, whether from his own natural patterns or in unconscious reaction to me, I didn’t know. His hardening cock pressed against me again, but this time rose between my parted legs. I opened them further to let it grow unrestrained. When I felt it press up against my perineum, I lowered my leg, trapping him there, and squeezing my own fingers still sliding slowly along my labia. I felt his cock throb in its captivity, its heat reflecting my own. If I reached down further, I could touch the head, rub my juices on it, maybe even tickle that extra sensitive spot on the underside.
I’m no penis expert, but am still grateful to the powers in the universe who/that were responsible for endowing my husband. He doesn’t have one of those porno “monster cocks,” but whatever it is (Actually, we did measure it once, I’m just not telling) it is the perfect size and shape for me. The head is a little pointed, but widens enough that the feel of him entering me is like a force of nature stretching me open and seeking my center. Its long enough that, when we’re making love just so, I can feel him “bottom out” and press against end of my tunnel. When he cums that deep in me, I can imagine feeling his semen shoot right into my womb. We’ve been doing it just so a lot, recently.
Now, I wanted him. I was all hot and bothered by the flights of my fancy, my own fingers, and the hardness between my legs. I wiggled forward and back a bit, trying to somehow move myself to get his cock and my pussy to connect. I grasped gently at the head to guide it to me and arched to get my body to line up right. But was too constrained by our body positions. Erect, he jutted too far forward for me to capture him in my slit. His organ throbbed from the additional stimulation of my squirming. I stopped moving for a minute, realizing I might actually get him to climax while frustrating myself.
The solution was simple in concept, but hard to execute given the state I was now in. I had to stop everything and wait for him to relax on his own. So I tried. I let go my hand, and raised my leg again, so my body didn’t squeeze him.
A long time passed. And I got hornier by the minute. I listened to Matt breathe, felt the hairs on his chest and legs tickle my skin, and waited for the stiffness pressed up between my legs to subside. The anticipation was agonizing. Every place we touched felt electric, especially down there, where he was so close to where I wanted him to be. I felt drips of my own excitement run over my leg to dampen the bed sheet. I grew cross with the cock, annoyed that it expected satisfaction right now when something so much better lay in store for it if it would only relax. I considered bringing myself off anyway, and to hell with the big lug. He wouldn’t know what he missed. But I rejected that thought as it formed. I knew that right now I wanted, needed him inside me.
I was getting ready to heave him over and jump on him when I finally felt him start to relax. I slowed my breathing to concentrate on feeling what was going on. I didn’t want to move too soon, lest I end up right where I’d started, and I wouldn’t be able to stand that. My heart was already beating fast from arousal, and now suspense added to it as I waited. Finally, the pressure was all but gone, and I could feel his mostly flaccid length lie on my upper inner right thigh.
I spread my legs a little wider and carefully reached down with my left hand. I grasped the soft, pliant glans of Matt’s penis in my fingers, pointed the head right between my wet and waiting labia, and held my breath.
It didn’t take long. Even in deep sleep, gentle direct manipulation of his cock got a reaction from Matt. He began to stiffen for a third time. And I almost lost him, too. My lubricated fingers slipped a bit and the head of the growing rod pointed off the wrong way for a moment. But I recovered quickly and poked him back into me. And that’s all I had to do. The lengthening, stiffening cock pushed into me by itself. I kept my hand there to prevent him from slipping out, but after that first heartbeat or two, it was really unnecessary. I let my left leg down.
He grew inside me, and oh, God, it was the most erotic thing! With each beat of his heart, his cock throbbed larger and longer, pushing deeper and deeper into me. I was so wet by now that the shaft had no trouble nosing as far as it wanted to go. I exhaled loudly, like he was forcing air out my lungs with his steady penetration. My left hand reached back and grabbed his muscular thigh as I arched and pressed my ass back into him. It was like a hot balloon inflating inside me. No, not a balloon, it was too substantial. I was so sensitized from my torturous wait, I felt every ridge and vein of the thickening meat slide against my inner flesh. It was such a turn on. I whimpered as I felt it pulse, fully erect and buried in me. My inner muscles squeezed it in return.
I let out a low, catlike purr. But now what? Part of me wanted to just stay like this and keep him inside me all night, or forever, whichever came first. Part of me wanted a real fuck – Matt would wake up, growl, grab me and start thrusting, maybe even flip us into a doggie style so he could really “do” me, or pull me back against his chest and plow up into me like a machine. Part of me wanted to get off by myself, with him firmly inside me, along for the ride. It would be so nice to drift off to sleep satisfied, with a hot cock buried in me. Who knows how we’d wake up?
My left hand again sought my sex, and I shuddered at my own touch. God, I was already so close! My stretched pussy clamped around Matt’s cock and the organ responded in kind with a twitch of its own. My index finger found my erect clit and circled and stroked it. I wanted to cum so badly, but teased myself to prolong the feeling. I realized I was shaking. Perspiration beaded on my exposed skin and made our bodies’ contact areas slick. Finally I couldn’t take it any more, and pressed into my clit, rubbing it earnestly up and down.
I came hard, my body jerking and quaking as the contractions hit me. I let out strangled grunts of climax, my efforts to keep quiet only making me want to scream louder. My pussy squeezed and squeezed Matt’s cock, its presence in me perfect in every way. I came… for a long time, subsiding into ragged breaths and the occasional shivering twinge of aftershock.
I slid my hand down further between my thighs, allowing them to close on my wrist. My palm rested on the junction of Matt’s cock and my pussy, my fingers lightly cradling is heavy balls. My body relaxed in the way that had been eluding me all night – the kind of letting go and settling that is essential for sleep. I took a deep breath and let out a long contented sigh.
Then, I heard an echoing deep intake of breath behind me. Almost imperceptibly, Matt’s left arm tightened around me, drawing me fractionally back to him. Deep within me, I felt Matt twitch…and expand…and throb. His hips moved, humping forward once in sleep. I felt the skin of Matt’s scrotum tighten against my hand. As I lay finally limp and passive in his bear-like embrace, his cock shuddered and erupted. Maybe I was already dreaming, because I imagined I could feel every jet of semen originate in his balls and surge into me. I counted three, four, five, more! Matt’s nocturnal emissions were apparently even more copious than his waking ones. The sheer quantity created a palpable additional fullness inside me. I hardly recognized my own low, breathy groan at the strange sensuality of the event.
My pussy instinctively squeezed him, repeatedly coaxing from him all he had to offer. With his bulk filling me so completely, I supposed there was nowhere for the volume to go other than deeper inside. A small shiver ran up my spine.
Final questions fought to keep me awake. Would he soften and slip out? Would he wake up and wonder what had happened? Would this time be the one? Interesting and distracting as they were, they finally could not hold my mind awake any more. I smiled the smallest of smiles as I at last drifted away, Matt’s final throbs beating the path into my dreams.
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