The Desire That Woke Me in the Middle of the Night

I woke up in the middle of the night with a strange feeling in my chest, a mixture of restlessness and desire. It wasn’t the first time it had happened to me, but that early morning was different. I opened my eyes in the darkness, heard your slow breathing beside me, and knew I wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep.

I was horny. For no apparent reason, without having dreamed anything I could remember, simply horny. My cock had gotten hard beneath my underwear, throbbing against the fabric, and every beat reminded me that I had a problem between my legs that wasn’t going to solve itself. Instead of calming down, my mind began circling around you. Around the fact that you were right there, a hand’s breadth away, and that all I wanted was to hold you, press my body against yours, and let the warmth bring me back to calm. I wanted to wrap my arm around you, find your tits with my hand, squeeze them slowly until I felt your nipple harden against my palm, and stay like that, still, until sleep returned.

But I couldn’t. You’d had that ache in your ribs for days, and I knew rubbing against you would hurt. Any pressure on that side would draw a complaint from you, and the last thing I wanted was to wake you up in a bad mood at that hour. So I stayed lying there, staring at the ceiling, my stiff dick making a bulge in the sheets, frustration nipping at desire’s heels.

In the end, the need to touch you won out. Without thinking too much, I slipped my hand beneath the waistband of your pajama bottoms. I only wanted some contact, any contact, to feel your skin so I wouldn’t feel quite so alone in the middle of the night. Your ass was the safest option, the one farthest from your aching side.

I liked finding you with nothing underneath. That habit of yours of sleeping without underwear had always seemed like a small invitation to me, even though you did it for comfort and nothing else. I stroked you slowly, drawing circles with my palm over that warm, firm ass cheek, occasionally squeezing the flesh between my fingers. I lowered my hand into the cleft, feeling around, and noticed the damp heat escaping from lower down. You were wet even in your sleep. My finger barely slid along the edge of your cunt, and I had to bite my lip to keep from letting out a moan. As I did, I thought about the summer ahead, about those hot nights when you’d sleep in nothing but the short nightdress. Practically naked. The thought turned me on even more, and I felt a drop of fluid escape from the tip of my cock.

What if we tried something else tonight?

The thought suddenly crossed my mind. If the problem was that pain in your ribs, if we couldn’t fuck the way we usually did because any position hurt you, maybe there was an alternative. One that didn’t require any effort from you, that wouldn’t make you bear any weight. Lower myself while kissing your back, inch by inch, until I buried my tongue between your thighs and didn’t come out of there until you came in my mouth.

***

I closed my eyes and let my mind race ahead. I imagined leaning over you, pressing my lips to the curve of your neck and hearing that tiny, almost unconscious moan of yours that always means I’m doing well. That sound of approval I know by heart and that gives me the courage I lack.

In my head I began making my way down. One kiss between your shoulder blades, another a little farther on, my tongue tracing the line of your spine while my hands supported your sides without squeezing. You opened your eyes halfway, still struggling against sleep, your gaze lost somewhere in the room.

The fantasy was so vivid I could almost feel your skin beneath my mouth. Your breathing changed rhythm, becoming a little shorter, a little deeper. Your pants slipped down to your knees and your back was left bare, exposed to the path of my hands. I moved up from the base of your spine to your neck, passed over your hips, trying not to leave a single inch untouched.

Meanwhile, my mouth lingered farther down, alternating soft kisses with the occasional light bite on the skin of your ass cheeks. A bite a little harder than intended on the roundness of your ass made you let out a sound halfway between pleasure and protest, that blurry boundary I love finding in you. I pulled your ass cheeks apart with my hands and ran my tongue along the entire cleft, from your asshole until I brushed the lips of your cunt from behind, and your whole body shuddered. And I kept going, patient, attentive to every reaction, gauging how far I dared to go.

Little by little, in that scene I was inventing with my eyes closed, your body began to turn. Your side-lying position slowly unraveled and you moved onto your back, almost without realizing it, as though desire itself were moving you. Without me doing anything, your pants finally came off your legs and my kisses changed territory.

Now they were below your navel. My fingers played in the area, unhurried, feeling around, while my tongue traced the line separating your thigh from your belly. First the right side, then the left, with the same deliberate calm, as if we had all night ahead of us. And we did. The smell of wet cunt reached me full-on and made me press my cock against the mattress so I wouldn’t come too soon.

Your T-shirt had ridden up to your neck, leaving your tits bare, your erect nipples pointing at the ceiling. If I lifted my eyes, I could barely make out your face, because your body arched slightly, seeking, asking without words. It was time. I knew it the way you know those things, by instinct, by the way everything around you tensed.

***

And then, still afraid, still carrying that old feeling that at any moment you might ask me to stop, I went for it. Without asking, because asking would have broken the spell, I sought out your cunt with my mouth and began exploring every corner I could reach. The first lick was slow and flat, from bottom to top, taking you in all at once. You were soaking wet, salty and sweet at the same time, and that first taste made me moan against your thighs.

There was no rejection. I confess it because it still surprises me: I expected the usual gesture, that hand gently pushing me away, that “not now” I’d learned so many times to accept without protest. But it never came. On the contrary. You opened your legs a little wider, let your knees fall to the sides, made room for me, gave me permission in the only way that really counts.

That was where a strange and beautiful game began. I acted clumsily, with the insecurity of someone who has gone too long without doing something and fears he may have forgotten how. I parted the lips of your cunt with my thumbs and stared at it for a second before burying my face again. My tongue went in and out, sought your clitoris, circled it, pulled away and returned. Every movement of my tongue was a question, every pause a way of checking that you were still with me, that I wasn’t crossing the line. My lack of practice made me slow, almost timid, and at the same time forced me to pay attention to everything: your breathing, the tension in your thighs pressing against my ears, the way your fingers tangled in my hair and tugged a little whenever I found the exact spot.

I slipped one finger in slowly, then two, feeling your cunt squeeze and release them at a rhythm you couldn’t control. I curled them upward while my tongue kept working your clitoris, and every time I brushed that spongy spot inside, a deeper moan escaped you. With my other hand I reached up for one of your tits, squeezed the nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and tugged a little. You muffled a moan against the pillow so you wouldn’t wake anyone.

And you gave me everything. Minute by minute, instead of tiring or asking me to stop, you seemed to enjoy it more. Your body relaxed and tensed in waves, as if it had been waiting a long time for exactly this and was finally allowing itself to receive it. Your hips began moving on their own, rising to meet my mouth, rubbing shamelessly against my face. Every sigh of yours guided me better than any words could. Here, yes; slower there; just like that.

When I felt you were close, I changed the rhythm. I began sucking your clitoris continuously, gently drawing it into my mouth while my fingers kept moving in and out. Your thighs began to tremble, and a barely audible “don’t stop” escaped you, and I knew there was no turning back. You came against my mouth in a long spasm, your cunt squeezing my fingers hard, a wave of hot fluid sliding down my chin. I didn’t pull my face away. I kept licking slowly, prolonging your orgasm until you pushed my forehead with your hand because you couldn’t take any more.

I realized it had been months since we’d found each other that way. The pain, the exhaustion, the nights when one of us dropped off before the other, all of it had piled up until it became a silent distance neither of us mentioned. And suddenly, at three in the morning, because of some ordinary bout of insomnia, that distance vanished in an instant.

I didn’t say anything to you. There was no need. I stayed down there for another moment, my cheek resting against your thigh, feeling your cunt still pulsing near my mouth. It wasn’t just desire, though that was how it had begun. It was the certainty that we still knew how to find each other, that our bodies remembered how we fit together even if, during the day, our minds were too busy to remember.

When it was all over, you lay very still, your broken breathing gradually recovering. I climbed back up slowly, leaving a trail of kisses along the reverse path from the one I’d taken down, my chin still shining with your juices. I lay beside you, careful not to brush your sore side, and found your hand in the dimness. I found it at once, as if you had been looking for mine too. You guided that hand downward without saying a word, closed it around my cock, and began moving it slowly, up and down, while you looked at me in the darkness. It took no more than a couple of minutes. I came silently into your fist, biting my lip, feeling the semen escape warm between your fingers and fall onto my belly.

This is what I needed.

I thought it and almost said it aloud, but kept quiet. Some things are better left unspoken. You curled up against me, this time with nothing hurting, and I felt your breathing return to its slow, deep rhythm, the same one that had woken me a little while earlier.

It didn’t take me long to fall asleep after that. The restlessness in my chest had disappeared, replaced by a warm, satisfied calm. Before closing my eyes, I thought I had to remember that night, keep it somewhere safe, because it was proof that it didn’t take much for us to find each other again. Just a little courage at an ungodly hour and the desire to seek out the other person instead of lying there staring at the ceiling.

The next morning we didn’t talk about it. You made coffee as you did every other day, and I pretended to read my phone while watching you move around the kitchen. But at some point you turned, held my gaze for a second longer than usual, and smiled. A small, conspiratorial smile, the kind that needs no explanation.

That smile told me you remembered it too. And that, perhaps, the next time I woke in the middle of the night with that restlessness in my chest, I wouldn’t have to wait for the fear to pass. I would only have to reach for you.