Sleepwalking Ch. 01

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Insomnia leads to erotic exploration.
3.1k words
4.48
31k
5

Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 10/09/2022
Created 09/23/2013
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I'm prone to insomnia. Most nights it's not too bad, but if I'm preoccupied with a problem, or not at home, I can sometimes lay awake for hours. Tossing and turning gets me nowhere, and, in fact, just pisses me off. Sometimes getting up is the only thing that can help me work off that excess energy.

Like tonight for example.

There was a party, a celebration: lots of people, lots of booze, and a great big rambling house in a part of town I rarely visited. Lauren was there: my BFF, my partner in crime. I think she knew the host, or maybe a friend of the host, or a friend of a friend. Regardless: we'd both heard that it would be a rager, and we weren't disappointed.

She and I had started the game of spin-the-bottle as a silly ice-breaker. It soon degenerated into a combination of strip-truth-or-dare and seven-minutes-in-heaven with a lot of exhibitionism thrown in for good measure. It was awesome. It was a blur of hot, sexy people, and a lot of giddy experimentation. I'd had the chance to make out with more people than I could count: men and women. I hadn't had that much fun since my first few forays into heavy petting in junior high. Something about the public and the forbidden mixed with alcohol-fueled inhibition ... I groaned and felt my panties getting wet again, just at the thought.

I touched my lips and remembered the taste and textures, of mouth after mouth greedily kissing, hands caressing my breasts, squeezing my nipples, rubbing, cupping, scooping each gladly offered bounty of flesh I dared to share. Other hands slowly, deliciously slipping up the insides of my thighs, seeking the warmth and wetness beneath my short summer dress. My nipples and cunt contracted in a single, powerful pulse as I remembered the feeling of being touched, explored, devoured by hungry hands and lips, while even more hungry eyes devoured the image of me arching and writhing as one person after another explored my body under the devilish encouragement of Lauren.

Finally, it had become too much, and dizzy and nauseated I bowed out of the game to a disappointed chorus of protests. Lauren had my back, as always, and she told everyone to cool it. She walked me to a guest room and put me to bed, locking the door behind me to keep me safe from anyone who might want to take advantage. She must have had a key, though, because when I woke at 4 a.m. She was sleeping next to me, hair tousled and wearing only her shirt and panties. I studied her face in the moonlight and felt a rush of sloppy drunken adoration. Her dark hair fell in a soft wave, partially obscuring her eyes and nose, but I could see her lips softly curved into a tiny, dreaming smile. The Mona Lisa of the bedroom.

I snickered to myself, then realized I was definitely not going to be able to fall asleep again--at least not right away. I didn't want to wake Lauren, so I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could and tiptoed toward the door, hoping that a short ramble around the house would be enough to soothe me back to sleep. As I rounded the corner of the bed, I snagged my foot in her shorts and almost fell, but caught myself just in time. I smothered a giggle, hoping I hadn't woken her up; I was still just a little tipsy, apparently. What I really needed was some water, and a good bout of nocturnal exploration.

The living room was pitch black and most of the party-goers had left, though there were still a few cars in the driveway. I felt hot and flushed, restless. Someone had shut the windows, and the room felt stuffy and close. I pressed my cheek against the cool window, trying to remember every delicious minute. I turned my face, rolling my forehead on the dark glass, my long hair hanging in curtains on either side of my face. My breath steamed the window in front of me, and I suddenly knew exactly what I needed to fall back to sleep. With no further thought I lightly ran the palm of my hand across my breasts, then traced it lightly down my belly, across the curve of my hips, then down toward my thighs. The hem of my dress was a whisper; it offered no resistance. My hand slid up, concealed in folds of fabric to find the soft edge of my panties, then slid gently beneath to the waiting slick silk of my hungry pussy.

My breath caught and I groaned in relief as I ground my palm over my hungry clit. I slid my fingers in feathery strokes up and down my lips, splaying them open, my busy hand tugging the elastic teasingly along the delicate junctures of my thighs. My clit vibrated for more attention, but I took my time, teasing myself. I'd been so wound up earlier during the game, but so drunk I hadn't been able to get off. And maybe, in spite of my apparent lack of inhibition, there was a part of me that didn't want to share that most intimate experience with a room full of strangers: no matter how deliciously sexy everyone was and how horny I was feeling.

I was so wrapped up in self-exploration I didn't notice the sound of someone behind me until it was too late. I felt a gentle hand slip over my eyes and a hot kiss fall on my shoulder. I froze, knuckle deep in my own pussy, dizzy with lust, but also torn by shock and shame at having been caught like this in someone's living room.

The lips were still touching my shoulder, and I heard a soft voice, the barest husky murmur. I couldn't understand it at first; I felt it on my skin more than heard it. I wanted to reply, but my tongue had frozen in my mouth, my right hand buried in my cunt and my left pressed against the glass near my head, supporting my weight as I sagged forward, knees weak with lust. I tilted my head just a bit, my shoulders shifting as if I meant to stand and turn.

The voice rose enough for me to hear: "No, don't. ... move ... so fucking hot ..." the ragged whisper was smothered as the mouth resumed its attention on my shoulder, the lips opening slightly, tongue trailing along the line of my scapula until it reached the thin cotton strap of my dress. I heard a tiny intake of breath and then felt the unmistakeable nip of teeth as the mouth bit lightly at my skin, caught the strap, and gently urged it down the slope of my shoulder.

The hand slipped from my eyes, but I kept my head pressed hard against the glass. Was this a dream? Was this really happening? Was I slipping into an alcohol-induced coma and having an erotic near-death experience? Cool!!

Or not.

I shook my head and again made as if to step back again. Both hands tightened on my shoulders. "No, please ..." the voice whispered again. It was soft and low. I couldn't even tell if it was a woman or a man, but at this point I didn't really care. "Please," the voice said again, lips hot against my skin. "I want you like this, I want to discover you, I want to touch every inch of you and find where your limbs meet meet in the hollows and shadows of your body. I want to write poetry on your flesh with my tongue, and make music in your cunt with my fingers and mouth ..."

My body reacted instantly. My nipples were rock hard, my pussy clenched around my fingers like a pulse and I felt a fresh surge of wetness ooze from my already sopping cunt. The voice continued, "Can I? Can I do this? Please say yes. Please ..." In answer, I removed my fingers and lifted them slowly toward my shoulder, toward the hot mouth that spun such filthy beauty and offered them. All I heard in reply was a throaty groan and the feel of greedy lips sucking the moisture from my fingers.

The hands slipped suddenly from my shoulders, trailing down my back and hips to the hem of my skirt, where they deftly slipped beneath, grabbed the edges of my panties and pulled. They offered no resistance and I stepped out of them, placing my bare feet back down, one by one. I felt the coolness of the hardwood floor beneath my feet, and the shock of the night air hitting my steaming cunt. Gentle hands pressed the insides of my thighs, encouraging them further apart, tracing the tendons as they stretched a little wider, opening my body to further exploration.

Then suddenly the hands were gone. I was standing, legs spread wide, my face still pressed against the glass, eyes shut and buried in the crook of my left elbow, right hand curved up and cupping my shoulder where my mystery lover had left it. But before I could react, I felt that mouth again, followed by the press of a body against me—a woman's body, I could now tell. She was about my height, her tits soft and warm against me. I felt her hips tucking forward, her pubis pressed hungrily against my ass, moving restlessly, seeking a place to rub away her need. She slid down my body, losing control. I felt the press of her panties and sopping wet pussy grinding briefly against my thigh and hipbone—my goodness, she was limber—and she gasped, then quickly pulled back, wanting to delay the release for as long as possible. Her warm arms wrapped around me as her voice again breathed: " ... are you sure? No going back once we start ..."

I nodded, mute, my mouth fused with lust.

" .... I need to hear it, I need the word ... you've been drinking, I've been drinking ..." her tongue and lips were working on my shoulders again, nibbling up my neck and toward the little hollow beneath my ear. My pussy clenched in reply before I could form the words. Moisture oozed down the inside of my left thigh. My legs and arms thrummed in anticipation. " ... yes ..." I breathed. There was no other possible answer.

Again, the press of her body was gone, but I heard the creak of floorboards and then the brush of flesh against my legs. She had turned, and was now kneeling between my legs. I tried to steal a glance, dying to know her identity. I was in the thrall of lust, and half terrified of getting caught. What if Lauren woke up and noticed me gone? What if she came looking for me? What would she think, finding me with some stranger with her face buried in my cunt? And speaking of strangers—who on earth was this woman, this faceless, nameless goddess of lust who was preparing to go down on me in the middle of the night in the living room of a strange house, while I was pressed against the picture window for all to see. Truth or dare, indeed.

I craned my neck, peering down the length of my body to see her face. Damn my dress! Damn the adorable flirty, full skirt that Lauren had told me was perfect for the party. "You'll be beating guys off with a stick all night," she said, then laughed at the unintentional pun. "You know what I mean." And I had.

The dress was amazing: it was indigo blue with a stretchy shirred top with enough support that I didn't need a bra. The straps were thin and tied at the top. The bodice skimmed lightly down my ribs, shaped by a collection of tiny vertical darts that finally flared into pleats that completed the full, flouncy skirt. Stupid skirt. It fell forward in a soft cloud and effectively hid the woman's face, even her hair. I felt her breath on the inside of my leg. I suddenly forgot about cursing the skirt and closed my eyes in anticipation.

Her lips were hot. Her tongue quickly found the moisture that was already running down my thighs. I heard her intake of breath as she savored the heat and scent radiating from my body. She knelt between my thighs, pushing my legs even farther apart, almost to the point of pain, to allow herself access. I felt her soft hair, I felt her hands running along my calves, my knees, my thighs, caressing and soothing the tensed muscles. When was she going to get down to business, for fucks' sake?!? I heard her chuckle under hear breath, like she was reading my mind. She was teasing me!!

"Fucking bitch," I groaned. She laughed again, hot against my thigh.

"What's wrong?" She breathed. "Can I do anything for you?" Her open mouth adhered itself to my inner thigh, just inches from my gaping hungry cunt.

"You know what you can do for me, slut," I murmured, "either put that sweet little mouth to work, or get the fuck out!" I sounded tough, but on the inside I knew if she stopped right now I would very likely cry or go insane—or both.

Luckily, she had no intention of leaving.

I suddenly felt what I wanted: her mouth, hot, wet and open, tongue soft and pliant, planted against my aching pussy. I stifled a small cry, and almost came right there, but I held back. I opened my eyes and looked at the driveway, counting cars, I had to make this last; I couldn't come after 10 seconds like a horny teenager.

"One ... two ... three cars ..." I thought to myself, then gasped as her open mouth increased suction and pulled agonizingly at my pussy. I had never felt anything like this. " ... four ... five ... six ..." I was counting out loud now, under my breath, trying to gain control of my libido.

She stopped suddenly, and a more normal voice came muffled from beneath my skirts, "Are you counting??" she asked.

"Uh huh ..." I groaned, "Can't ... come ... too ... soon."

I heard her laughter again, and she sounded pleased. "Don't you worry, sweetness, I'll make sure you have plenty of fun, don't you worry." And then her lips were on my cunt again, silencing us both, for a while.

She shifted a little on her knees, and resting one hand on my hip, slid the other between my legs. She spread me open gently, and I thought I heard her murmur something, but it was lost in a sharp intake of breath (mine) and a rumbly growl of lust (hers). I savored the slow sweet ache of her tongue tracing my slit, up and down each side, leaving a trail of anticipation in its wake. At the apex, where my clit stood happily at attention, she would stop—and I swear I could feel her smile—as she skipped that most sensitive point before touching down on the other side and continuing her circuitous explorations of the limits of my lust.

My limits were negligible. After a minute or two of this exquisite torture I could bear it no longer. "Please," I said, and I snaked one hand down to my pussy, spreading myself, tilting my hips at an obscene angle, " ... please."

She answered with a small kiss on my fingers, gently nudging my hand away with her nose. I put it, sopping, against the window, my juices making a little halo of mist around my fingers on the glass. I felt her own fingers, three of them, poised against my aching hole. I groaned in reply and moved my hips in a greedy circle. They slid in quick, hard, and deep, her thumb pressing just to the side of my clit. I felt my heart beat in my cunt, behind my knees, under my arms, in my nipples, and my in my head; my entire body felt like it was waking up, reaching toward my core to experience this moment. I thought it would be her thumb but it was her tongue, that strummed me to completion; soft, warm and pliant, gently licking at that poor beleaguered nub of flesh as her fingers pounded furiously in and out of me. It didn't take long.

The orgasm hit me out of nowhere; there was no room left for a slow build. My body buckled and I nearly collapsed. I felt her smile against my cunt as the walls of my vagina convulsed and clenched around her fingers, and my clit bounced and thrummed like someone had plugged me into a light socket. I tried to muffle my cries, but I couldn't tell if I was succeeding. Instead, I buried my mouth in the crook of my arm and hoped for the best, tears of relief streaming from my eyes.

It took me a minute to come around, but I was finally able to register she was still there between my legs, her cheek pressed softly against my thigh, hands patiently stroking my ass and legs, waiting for me to collect myself.

"Oh my god," I said, "that was fucking fantastic ..."

"I know," she said, then laughed. "Just let me know when you're ready and we'll go for round two!"

I didn't think it was possible, but my body thought otherwise. My cunt contracted like an angry animal, and I struggled to rein it in. "God, yes, but ... wait ... I want ..." I trailed off, lost as her fingers started their butterfly dance around my pussy again.

"You want ...?" she asked, her breath hot against me.

I shook my head, "I want you. I want to make you feel the way I feel right now. I want to taste you. I want to feel you go weak with desire, and then explode, shatter into a million pieces. Please ... "

It was her turn to freeze ... her fingers paused ... she was considering. Her breath was on my thigh. My face and arms were pressed to the glass. Moisture trickled down my thighs, and I felt her tracing the silky trails with one delicate finger as she thought.

"OK," she said .... "Here's how it's gonna happen."

------ TO BE CONTINUED -----

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4 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 4 years ago
I'm sure this just was an intrduction to a much longer story...

...now please don't disappoint us either by not producing a sequal to this story (hopefully involving somnambulism (aka sleepwalking) or worse still, by not continuing on with this sexy thread you started with, and leaving us hanging.

YOMEYO

SkinTicklerSkinTickleralmost 7 years ago
Sleepwalking?

There's no sleepwalking here, but it would be a fun subject. Fun scene, anyway. Would love to see a whole story

AnonymousAnonymousabout 7 years ago

Where is there a Sleepwalking person? I read through both parts and didn't find anyone sleepwalking!

Insomnia = Sleepwalking??? NO!

vonWachsteinvonWachsteinover 10 years ago
MORE!!!

That was incredibly hot! I can't wait for more.

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