I Woke Up Before She Did and Couldn’t Hold Myself Back

Feeling her wrapped around me that morning was, without a doubt, the best wake-up I could have asked for. The warmth of her naked body pressed against mine, her slow breathing brushing my shoulder. She had an angelic face, her eyes still closed, savoring that restorative sleep that only comes after a whole night of sex.

The sun was just slipping through the slats of the blinds, enough to sketch the room’s shapes. Our clothes were still scattered across the floor, mute witnesses to the hours before, to the caresses only those of us who know what it is to desire another woman can truly understand.

The night before, we had met almost by accident, at a cramped table in a downtown bar, and it took only one conversation that went on too long and two too many drinks for me to end up bringing her to my bed. What was meant to be a one-time thing turned into hours, and now the timid morning light was catching me while I wanted nothing more than for her not to leave.

I lifted the sheets carefully, just enough to admire at my leisure that body which, for one night, had been entirely mine.

In the half-light I made out her breasts, firm, now surrendered to their own weight, orphaned from hands. I felt the urge to touch them, but I held back. I endured my own desire to squeeze those breasts that drew me like a magnet made of warm flesh. I still hadn’t had enough of her. I didn’t want to wake her, not yet.

Her belly was a slide leading straight to the center of my desire. Smooth, marked by a navel that seemed to beg to be kissed, licked without haste. It was hard to keep myself in check.

I lifted the sheet a little higher and my eyes reached that soft skin that seemed impossible to me. My heart was pounding hard in my chest, as if it were the first time.

A trimmed patch of pubic hair, not too much and not too little, barely a shadow over that triangle that for me was a temple to make a pilgrimage to every evening, every dawn. Her legs, slightly parted, marked two paths pointing exactly in the direction I wanted to follow.

My mouth watered just imagining myself buried between those folds of warm flesh. I wanted to put my tongue in her spring and finally quench this thirst that was devouring me from the inside.

She was still sunk in the world of dreams, completely unaware of my gaze, of my restrained desire, of the scrutiny I was subjecting every pore of her skin to. I looked her over in full, slowly, feeling something like envy, but happy to be able to admire that body resting beside me.

I moved a lock of hair off her face with two fingers. Her half-open mouth promised slow, wet kisses. I knew the color of her eyes, hidden now behind her lids: that sea-green that unsettled me when she looked at me up close, two emeralds cut into a porcelain face.

Wake up already. No, don’t wake up yet.

Carried by desire, I slid my hand down until I came near the temptation of her exposed flesh. The warmth of her breast welcomed me at once. Soft, gentle to the touch, round and firm, crowned by a pink nipple that I wanted to bite without a second thought. I kneaded it slowly, measuring every movement so as not to disturb her sleep.

My fingers rediscovered what it was to touch heaven. Only the slight hardness of her nipple broke the smoothness of the furtive caress. I traced it all the way through until I felt in my palm that womanly heat that makes you forget where you are and what time it is.

It was as if I had never touched another woman before. A gift being opened for the first time, made real. That trembling teenage thrill swept through me, the one that discovers the forbidden and doesn’t know whether to laugh or run. I had spent years with others, in a hurry and out of habit, but none had ever made me feel this mix of patience and hunger at the same time.

I let my hand wander downward, without fear but without impatience. I stopped in the little hollow of her navel, in the calm of her flesh, in the slow rise and fall of her deep breathing. I went lower, farther past the waist, sinking into that warmth until I felt a shiver that shrank my soul and made me unwilling to step back.

And I let myself be carried by the tide. I forgot the moment and the place. I crossed the last barriers to feel, at my fingertips, the softness of the mound I had so often imagined. The hair softened my caress, just before the edge.

A barely audible moan, a sleeping murmur, startled me. I froze like a child caught doing something naughty. But nothing happened. It was only the echo of a dream.

Calm returned.

And with it came back the urge to go all the way. One more step, just a few centimeters of hot flesh, and the doors I had been peeping at all morning would open. My fingers brushed the delicacy that clouded my thoughts. One more, just one more, and I was reaching her intimacy.

My eyes followed my fingers, searching for the reason behind this unease gnawing at me. She was still closed, my caresses still opening no door at all. I persisted. I needed to see it, touch it and, if I could, taste it.

It was my own saliva that became the lubricant that turned the caress into a soft torment I dared to sustain. First with subtlety, without going into detail, just to feel that pulse at the tip of my finger. I stroked it as if without strength, but without surrendering. I had to calm this need growing in my guts.

Little by little her folds opened. My pupils guessed the source of everything. A little wet hardness told me I was on the right path.

I rested my head carefully on her belly. Her scent suddenly clouded my senses. A new moan seemed to give me free rein to go on.

Gently I pushed the flesh of her thighs apart until I cleared the last barrier. Before me, at last, the sanctuary I had been dreaming of for weeks. I couldn’t hold back the urgency to touch it with my mouth.

An emerging wetness greeted me. Between my fingers rolled the fruit of the passion that had shut down my thoughts. I stroked and touched greedily, just like in the dark hours of the night, ruled by that priority that governs sex. I needed to feel her beating against my tongue.

I settled my body so I could get even closer to that forbidden place. It offered itself before me like a desired apparition. I looked at it head-on. There was no turning back now.

I leaned in and placed a soft kiss. A cry seized me. I looked up for her face and the emeralds of her eyes met mine with a tenderness that undid me. She gave me the green light, parting her thighs a little more. She had woken from one dream only to sink into another, more real, more tangible, more sensorial.

—Don’t stop —she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

I had no intention of stopping. I buried my mouth in the well opening before me. I drank from the spring that soothes both flesh and soul.

My tongue traced her deep paths, wrenching tremors from her, savoring that tide bursting on my palate. Slowly I sank all the way in. Her pulse emboldened me, her moans urged me on. The hand that tangled in my hair pushed me against her, setting the rhythm, asking for more.

—Like that, just like that —she panted, arching her back.

I clamped my hands around her buttocks to keep her from escaping. The firm flesh became my grip while my mouth kept seeking her swollen clit. My saliva sweetened it and her moans rose in pitch, less and less restrained with each passing second.

I devoured everything within reach. I endured the pressure of her thighs against my ears. Seeing her writhing was proof that waking before her had been worth it.

I barely had time to prepare myself. Even seeing it coming, I was startled by the spasm that shook her whole body. The knot of her legs kept me from pulling away. I held on as best I could through the earthquake tearing through her body, rocked by the waves of her flesh, soaked by a wetness that kept drenching my lips, my mouth, my face.

From far away, as if from another world, I could hear her broken moans. Cries of pleasure that echoed against the sheets and the curtain. Ecstasy became word, word and flesh in that communion of two women that flushes cheeks and hardens breasts, that pounds at the temples and ravages the entire skin.

Then came the languor of letting myself fall off a cliff of sleep. I dozed with my cheek resting on her still trembling thigh, feeling her body slowly loosen. And turquoise eyes that slipped back behind perfect eyelids.

I covered her in kisses, from pubis to chest. Neck, lips, cheeks. Each kiss was a way of saying thank you without spending words.

I let myself fall face to face with her, looking at her. She said nothing. Just one hand squeezing mine as her only thanks.

Maybe later I’ll give back what she gave me.

Maybe. For now I preferred to stay like this, side to side, feeling her hot skin and that sweet drowsiness wrapping around us both. Outside, the day was beginning without us, and neither of us cared.