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Early Morning Dew

by Theresa Wilhelm 11 months ago in fiction
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When anxiety keeps your partner awake

Early Morning Dew
Photo by LeeAnn Cline on Unsplash

Silence fills the air, the summer heat weighs on us like a thick, furry winter blanket. Upon opening my eyes, I see you lying next to me in bed, wide awake. You’re staring intently at a spot on the ceiling as if something is there, a sure sign you’ve got something on your mind. Seemingly unaware of my waking, I contemplate whether I should make it known. By the look of the lighting in the room, I'd say it's right before dawn. How long have you been awake? I get an inkling you've gotten stuck in a state of existential crisis and worry you’ve not slept at all.

I scan you up and down to see that you managed to remove your shirt during the night. My eyes lock onto the patch of hair on your chest, I resist all urges to reach out and play with it in preference to observe you a moment longer before speaking up. “Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah, just lost in thought.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Feel free to go back to sleep.”

Of course I am not going to be able to sleep while knowing you’re wide awake. There has to be something I can do to help further your sleeping process. A lightbulb of desire goes off inside of me and I lean forward, closer to your face. The scruff of your beard tickles my nose slightly as I plant a kiss on your cheek, breaking your reverie further. You crack a small smile, but your gaze remains on the ceiling. Testing the waters further I lean to kiss you again, but instead of your cheek I place one in the crook of your neck. Feeling even friskier, I decide to continue a trail of kisses down the length of your torso.

"What are you doing?"

I pause my kissing onslaught to respond, "Stimulating sleep."

"That's going to have the opposite effect."

I ignore your statement and continue until I reach the waistband of your shorts. You hold your breath with anticipation of my next move. I know what you’re thinking, but I have calculated this moment. I look up and see the hopeful anticipation pouring from your eyes. I give you my most coquettish of smiles as my left hand traces up along your thigh from the outside in. Up, up, up until I feel the terrain of your shorts elevating under my touch, the reaction I was hoping for. With eyes still locked, I continue my trail of kisses back to face you. You release a sexually frustrated breath. I can tell by the look in your eyes that I may have managed to avert you from an existential crisis, only to awaken something else inside you. Just like I intended.

Without hesitation, you place your hand on my lower back, pulling me closer to you. Our bodies merge into one. Your hands tangle themselves in my hair as you press your lips to mine. A spark of arousal shoots throughout my body.

You manage to free your hands from my hair and trace them down the length of my back. My abdomen tenses when I feel one of your hands lifting the bottom hem of my shirt enough to slip under it. The tips of your fingers trace up higher and higher until they reach the squishy treasure they're searching for. The palm of your hand completely cups my boob perfectly as you knead it like dough. It feels divine inside your hand, a perfect home for them to rest. Using your free hand you pull my shirt up over my head and onto the floor, revealing my bare chest. You push your hips down on mine enough so that I can feel the imprint of your shaft against my thighs. You moan into my mouth and I respond with a tug of your bottom lip.

You reciprocate my signals by kissing my neck, one of my more sensitive spots. Darting your warm mouth over the top of my breast, you bury my nipple inside your damp cavern and suckle down. Your teeth close around the tippy top of my nipple and pull it upward succulently. You push the fabric of my underwear off to one side and slip a finger inside of me with ease. It's no surprise to me that I am sopping wet in preparation for you. As you insert another finger, I clasp my walls tightly around both. Threatening no release.

Once again my hand begins its inquisitive search for your flapper, slipping my hand into your shorts I wrap my hand around him. He ignites with vivacious life in response to my touch. I begin a gentle back-forth stroke, making him stiffer with each one. You release my nipple from the confines of your teeth. I can gauge how perky it has become as the cool air surrounds what used to be covered by your mouth. You nuzzle your face into my neck and begin to kiss and suckle on my sweet spot once again. I feel tension around my nipple once again. Your fingers pinch and pull at them causing me to burst out, “OH!”

I release my grasp and slide my hand upwards and tug at the waistband of your shorts, they slide effortlessly down, low enough so that Sir Flaps-a-Lot embraces his momentary lapse of freedom. I reach my free hand inside of my pillowcase and pull out a familiar square wrapper and place it on my chest for you to take. You look down and back up at me confused. Before you can ask any questions I whisper, “Be prepared, that’s the McNugget motto.” Leaving no time for further confusion I rip open the package myself, take the contents out, and swiftly unroll it over Mr. Flaps. Once again, you push your hips against mine begging for entry. Your wish becomes my command as I relax my thighs and part them permitting you access.

You bring your lips back to meet mine and release your finger’s clasp on my nipple so that you can pull my face closer towards yours. Your way of giving thanks, as you slide your pulsating shaft with precision into my compact quarters. You gently thrust your hips into mine and I raise mine to meet with yours. You pause once fully inside of me and we both let out an exasperated breath of relief. I look up at your face to find your eyes drowning in bliss and staring right back at me. Having you inside me feels like heaven, if such a place exists I know that it has to feel exactly like this.

You lower your head to place your mouth over my other nipple, the one left unattended until now. The warmth of your mouth makes me arch my back upward encapsulating my breast inside your mouth. I feel pressure releasing down below as you begin to pull out. I brace myself for your first full thrust.

Your tongue flicks back and forth ferociously over my nipple, I have to resist the urge to squirm in delight. You suckle and pull at my tit just as you reach the tip end of our alignment. With one last inhale you release my breast from your mouth and bring your face back to mine. As I gaze into your eyes I see they hold the question of readiness. Receiving a gentle nod by me you begin your reinsertion. I clench my inner walls tightly around your shaft as you enter. We begin to create a euphoric rhythm with each thrust, gradually building one another up to climax. When the moment finally comes, our bodies ride the waves of orgasm together.

You collapse exhaustively on top of me and lay there for a moment, our chests panting in unison, before rolling back to your side of the bed. After you've managed to collect your breath you ask, "You're not gonna ask me what I was thinking about?"

I snuggle up against you to rest my head on your chest and you place your arm around me. “Of course I'm always curious as to what you're thinking, but I figured you'd tell me when and if you wanted."

You remain quiet for a moment before responding, “Just irrational worrying about the future, one of the many existential crises.”

“Ah, I see. I figured as much. It doesn’t do any good to worry about what has yet to come. When you do that you miss out on all the wonderful that is now, in the present.”

You give off a thoughtful sigh and respond, “True.”

As we lay cuddled together, I trace gentle patterns in the patch of hair that rests on your chest. Within minutes I feel the rise and fall of your breathing move into a pattern of deep sleep. I smile to myself as my heart warms with happiness from easing your troubled thoughts, if only for a night. I feel the weight of sleep pulling at my eyelids and shortly I drift off to sleep alongside you.

fiction

About the author

Theresa Wilhelm

Spiritual nerd

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