Giving Up Sleep…

And everytime I go to bed
An image of you flickers in my head
And everytime I fall asleep
An image of you flows in my dreams
– Flickers, London Grammar

***

I wrote this a while ago while making the most of my own insomnia and, as it seemed to fit the brief, thought I’d enter it into Charlie’s (@sexblogofsorts) Lent flash erotica competition on Giving Something Up…

***

She opened her eyes and looked over at the clock. 3:42. Exactly 17 minutes since she had last checked. Sighing in frustration, she turned over and closed her eyes again, determined that insomnia would not get the better of her again. Purposefully slowing her breathing, she tried to relax the tension out of her body, tried to pretend that she was asleep…3:49. OK, this is just ridiculous!

She knew why she couldn’t sleep, but that knowledge was just making the situation worse. She seemed to have forgotten how to sleep alone, and it had been this way for three nights now. She could not remember the last time she had slept well except when she was enveloped in his arms. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. She didn’t exactly need him there to sleep…she just slept so much better when she had been fucked to within an inch of her life, and was sated and exhausted. The fact that she could then come down while still entangled in his body and fall asleep to his whispered endearments in her ear was a bonus. His business trip was only supposed to last a week, but she was not sure how she was going to survive that long. She had given up sleep without him…

She stretched beneath the sheets, dragging her tired limbs from the warmth she had made around her into the cool beyond. She moaned softly as the motion renewed the ache in her thighs and back that had not yet healed from their last desperate fuck before his flight. She flexed her legs to ease the cramping, trying not to think about him. She was supposed to be sleeping after all! But she could feel her body rousing and remembering against her will.

‘Fuck me like you’ll never see me again…fuck me hard like it’s the last time.’

Still holding his suitcase, he came down the stairs and glanced at his watch.

‘I don’t know,’ he shrugged, ‘my taxi will be here any minute now.’

Her face fell. She was about to formulate an excuse to hide her disappointment when he pushed her back into the dining room and slammed her up against the table. She gasped as he flipped her around, pressing her against the table edge.

‘Hard?’ he growled into her ear, ‘I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll still feel it when I come back next week.’

Now, lost in the dark and alone, she screwed her eyes shut to try and block out the images that fought for her attention. The big mirror in the dining room had meant that she could watch him behind her, could see his face as he wrenched up her skirt and pulled her soaked underwear aside. One hand entangled in her hair, holding down her against the cold table surface, while the other began to stroke her with increasing urgency, rubbing her clit and opening her up with his fingers until she was ready to take his thick, hard cock.

Her own hands now mirrored his movements, running her fingers over her slick opening, pinching her clit and slipping inside her. She remembered his face as he had plunged his cock in and reflexively opened her legs wide as if to allow him deeper. She pushed her hips up against her hand as she heard his moans of pleasure echo around her head. She licked her fingers and rubbed them over her hard nipples, sending bolts of electricity through her tormented body. She could almost feel his hands on her hips, holding her steady while he thrust powerfully into her, could almost feel that exquisite deep punch inside her as his cock had stretched and filled her.

Soon, her memory fractured as she began losing control. Disconnected but unimaginably hot images flooded through her mind, torturing her with sensations that were out of reach. Her hands gripping his hair…his teeth against her skin…the weight of his body pressed against her…his kiss…his cock moving deep inside her…oh fuck, it was too much. Finally finding release, she moaned as she came, frantically rubbing her clit with her thumb to keep the climax building while her body squeezed around her moving fingers.

As the last waves of her orgasm retreated, she exhaled and rolled over, hoping that sleep would finally come now that she had gone some way to quiet the aching need within her. And it seemed to be working…when her mind once again betrayed her at the last minute.

‘Imagine how good it’ll be when he gets back. Just imagine how amazing it will feel after all of this time.’

2 thoughts on “Giving Up Sleep…

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