For You, It’s Always Yes

I wake up in her bed, a rare treat that I savor every time.  She’s still asleep next to me – soft, warm, relaxed.  We were up late fucking and talking and fucking some more. Now, I’m lying here looking at her in the dim morning light thinking I should let her sleep.  I rest my hand on her hip and resist the urge to press my fingertips into the crease between hip bone and mound.  I roll over and press my backside against hers and I can feel her breathing.  She settles against me in a way that speaks volumes about comfort and safety and belonging.  I close my eyes, willing myself to sleep a little longer, not wanting to break the moment.

But, no, I’m done sleeping.  I reach for my phone, on the side table.  I occupy myself for a while with social media until I’m just scrolling and no longer seeing anything.  She’s right there, right behind me, in her gloriously sexy birthday suit.  yes, she needs sleep but I can’t justify being on my phone when she’s right there.  We don’t have enough sleepovers, and really it wouldn’t matter how many we had, this moment, when I wake up with her, is too precious to squander.

Facing her again I slide one knee between her parted legs. Not aggressively, just to get my body closer to hers.  I adjust myself so my lips rest against the base of her neck. She takes a deep breath and settles into me. My fingertips trace a path from shoulder to thigh.  I’m not in a hurry, the pleasure her skin is too exquisite to rush. I take my time touching as much of her as I can reach without moving and disturbing her sleep. I reach across her body, palm resting on her belly.  I’m mesmerized by the rise and fall of her breath. I draw my hand lightly upward until it’s resting on her sternum. Her heart beat is steady and strong.  I can feel my own where my chest presses against her back and where it echoes between my legs.  Be patient, I tell myself, hold the moments as long as you can.

Whether it’s because of my hand roaming her body or because my need for her has found its way into her sleeping mind, she begins to stir.  She rolls partway over, into me, her head pressing back so that my lips find the spot under her ear. I kiss her lightly and cup her breast without pressure.  Her breath catches and her eyelids flutter.  It’s hard to tell if she’s waking or still asleep.  If she’s asleep, I wonder what her dreams look like. Do her dreaming eyes see me, or am I giving form to a fantasy of someone else? I’m curious, but it doesn’t matter either way.  The pleasure of her body and her skin are mine.

I become more insistent with my fingers and I start to kiss down her neck and across her shoulder, very gently grazing her with my teeth. At one point, when my palm crosses from hip to thigh, her pelvis tilts, just a little. I follow her lead, unconscious though it might be.  I’m remembering something she said the first time I slept over.  “The answer is ‘yes’, even if I’m asleep.  I trust you – for you, it’s always ‘yes’.”


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