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The Deepest Part of the Night


 It's the middle of the night. The quietest part of the night. Not a sound breaks the quiet and yet you wake. In that still, silent time you wonder vaguely why you are awake, or if you are even awake at all.

 You are about to drift back into a more sound sleep, when a feather soft touch enters your awareness. Something, you can't tell what, drifts slowly across your breast and away again before the touch truly registers. An endless moment then, it repeats on the other breast. Again, the soft touch, one breast to the other, around the fullness, across sensitive nipples. The contact is slow and causal, but sure in its intent. Your arousal builds slowly until you find yourself arching, waiting, for the next feather soft stroke.

 You become more aware, more awake, or so you think. You open your eyes to total darkness. Now you are sure this is a dream. Until you blink and feel your lashes brush something. A blindfold? An image within your dream? Awake or asleep? Again you are unsure.

 Do you fight to wake? To find your lovers arms and lose yourself in them. To ask her to finish what your dream started. Or do you relax and let this phantom lover take you where she will?

  Once more you arch under an invisible touch. This time a slow caress moves down the skin between your breasts to follow the line of your chest down your belly to a sensitive navel. You don't know whether to laugh at the ticklish sensation or gasp at the other sensation that comes with it.

 In reflex you move your hands down to cover sensitive flesh. With a jolt of awareness you realize that your hands are immobile. You are suddenly wide awake, as a quick tug verifies that you are tied, spread eagled, on your own bed .

  You tug at your bonds and instantly the touch leaves your skin. It is replaced by a more familiar contact as a sure hand strokes your face soothingly. In a whispered plea you call your lovers name. You are still not sure if you are locked in a dream, but you know you need to hear her voice.

  You feel lips nuzzle close to your ear and then her voice.

 “Shhh. Trust me."

 And you do. Whether she is real or the phantom of your dream, you trust her. In that instant you give yourself over to sensation. You try to speak again but she hushes you. You realize, whether dream or reality, this will be played out in silence.

 A stroke of a single finger across your cheek seems to ask the question and you nod.

 Then, those fingers begin a slow thorough exploration. Minutes? Hours? Days? In the silent darkness you cannot tell. You pull against the restraints as your arousal grows. From fingertips and down, ignoring wanting breasts and mound, to end at ankles then to reverse and begin anew. The cords feel silky against your wrists and ankles, yet you are bound tight as steel. You pull and tug, arch and move. You are open and helpless under this soft, sure attention.

 You are unable to act, to reach out to her. You are bound, able to do no more than feel. And so you do. You revel in this sweet torture, lose yourself in sensation. Silently you beg her to hurry, praying that she will never stop.

 Your wanting mounts, the pressure builds. Still, she moves across your skin with infinite patience. Her touch is velvet, leaving fire in its wake. Your moans are as constant as her fingers are relentless.

 Until you whimper/beg for a more intimate touch


 You hear a quiet chuckle as fingers withdraw.

 Before you can protest the absence, your breast is taken in a firm grip. Its twin is sucked into a warm mouth. Instantly your back arches off the bed and you call out her name. A short moment only, and the warmth of that mouth covers your own. The kiss is deep and passion filled. Your arousal is acute as you moan into her mouth. She moves to kiss and lick your neck and the movement lets you nuzzle into her shoulder.

 When her hand cups your mound you gasp. When she slides easily through your slick wetness and enters you, you bite. She nips your neck lightly in response, but does not move away from your teeth. When she begins to move inside you, you bite again. Her moan is quiet, but you hear it.

 Her movements are steady and sure. She feasts on your exposed neck and moaning mouth, dipping down time and again to tease aching breasts. The speed of her strokes steadily increases. Your hips tilt and thrust to meet each movement of strong fingers.

 When she moves her thumb to cover an aching clit, you shudder. A few strokes and you climax. A few more and you climax again.

 Slick with sweat and shuddering with aftershocks, she continues a slow gentle stroking, making the sensations last as long as possible.

 You are limp. Your body spent. You make no effort to move as you feel the restraints on your limbs being taken away. The blindfold is removed and can't find the energy to open your eyes.

 You are taken into strong arms. You rest your head on a comfortable breast, listen to the soothing beat of a familiar heart.


An encounter in the darkness of a still silent night.

Awake or asleep? You still don't know.

You realize you don't care.

You let the darkness, the silence take you, and you sleep.