3 comments/ 113256 views/ 39 favorites Sleepwalker By: fntcwriter I remember the first night my roommate, Emily, went sleepwalking. I was having trouble falling asleep due to mid-term exams, stressing about my grades, and horny as hell because I hadn't had a date in f-ing forever since I wanted to focus on my studies. Emily was having troubles, too, but not with her schoolwork. She was a straight-A student. Her problems were with her boyfriend. I guess they were keeping her up, too. I opened my eyes as Emily got up, mumbling to herself about something. She sleeps in these light teddies, and I always admired her DD breasts - much larger than my own 36 C's - and the way she never seemed to mind the fact that her sheer teddies left nothing to the imagination. "Em? What's the matter?" I asked drowsily. But she either didn't hear me or didn't care because she wandered off down the hall. I assumed she was just going to the bathroom or to get a drink of water. But when she didn't come back in about ten minutes, I got a little worried and slipped out of bed. "Emily?" I called softly. The kitchen light was on, and Emily was talking to somebody. Except it was a one-sided conversation, with her pausing every now and then as though someone were responding. I peeked around the corner and saw her standing in the kitchen with an empty glass, sipping from it every now and then as though it had water or something. Emily giggled, as if her imaginary friend had said something funny. I saw that, even though her eyes were open, they didn't seem focused. It would have creeped me out if I hadn't had some experience with sleepwalking before. When we were twelve, my twin brother (fraternal twin, obviously) went through a brief period of sleepwalking when my folks were having a rough patch in their marriage. That freaked me out, especially the night Zach walked into my room and started to crawl into bed with me! There wasn't anything sexual about it - he just really thought it was his bed, and didn't understand why I was in it. It happened again when we were about sixteen or so, when his hormones were surging like crazy. I often wondered if he masturbated a lot to handle it and try and lessen the pressure. (I know I did!) Anyway, when I realized what was going on, I said to Emily, gently but firmly: "Emily, why don't you go back to bed now, okay? It's late, honey, and you really need to get some sleep." Ok - creepies here when she looked at me with those blank eyes, but she smiled and nodded. "Okay," she said. "Tom, I need to go to bed, now. I'll see you tomorrow." Tom was her boyfriend. With that, she set her glass on the sink and shuffled back to our room. I followed, making sure she didn't bump into anything, and watched her as she slid into her bed. For some bizarre reason - don't ask me why right now - maybe it was subconscious - but I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and brushed her hair away from her forehead like I was her mom or something, and Emily muttered" "Thanks, mom. I love you, too" and drifted off. I slipped into bed, and my mind wandered. Odd imaginings drifted through my thoughts, and I guess I eventually fell asleep, too. It happened again a few nights later. This time, I wasn't as worried, but did get up and follow Emily around to make sure she didn't hurt herself. Much to my surprise, this time she had sex! With herself! Well, with her imaginary boyfriend, Tom. She was "fucking" him on the sofa in the living room, acting like she was bouncing up and down on his cock with him beneath her. I have to admit, it made me a little wet watching her - the way she was talking, and touching herself. She slid her teddy off and played with her boobs while "Tom" fucked her. Watching, I felt my nipples grow hard, and let my hand slip under my T to ease the ache with some light pulling. That, however, only made my pussy want more, increasing the hunger I felt down there. "Oh, yeah, mmmm..." Emily writhed. Then, to my further surprise, she came! Emily arched her back, and shuddered, and I saw her panties grow very wet as her liquid came flowing out. Her aroma was warm and delicious from where I stood. That was when the idea - the wicked, naughty little idea - crept into my head. Emily was sighing and laying down on top of her imaginary Tom, and slowly grinding her hips against the sofa cushion. I spoke firmly, but not loud - I didn't want to wake her and freak her out, let alone break the spell. "Emily, go back to bed. But when you get up, I want you to wake me with a kiss." I said it, feeling perhaps it needed time to trickle down in her awareness. Maybe I couldn't get such immediate responses like I did with the more innocuous request that she go back to bed. Then I remembered, too, that people - hypnotized people and sleepwalkers alike - will not do anything against their wishes. You can't make somebody a mass-murderer or do harm if that's not their nature. So, maybe Emily wasn't into girls at all. I didn't know, so I made it something easier to start with. Emily lazily got up and shuffled back to bed. Her face, lax as it was, still held an "after sex" glow that I envied, even if it was all in her mind! Emily slipped under her covers, and I stroked her hair before climbing back into my own bed. The impulse to implant a command was sudden, but just for fun. I thought. And so I wasn't all that attached to the outcome. I was, however, pleasantly surprised when I was awoken by a very light, sisterly kiss! That decided it. I made up my mind to "experiment" with Emily whenever I caught her sleepwalking. In fact, two nights later, when she did it again, I actually implanted the suggestion that she do this more often! I began with simple, "next day" suggestions. Part your hair on the other side. Wear a particular outfit. Borrow my panties without telling me. (I really got off when I found them in the laundry basket a few days later. I even fingered myself to orgasm, sniffing her scent out of the crotch, as my excitement and feeling of control grew!) Stuff like that. But soon, Emily was sleepwalking almost every other night, and I began to get bolder. My sense of power was growing, and I was really getting off on the feeling of being in control of my roommate. So, a few nights later, I suggested to Emily that she "suck Tom off like he's always wanted" the next time she saw him. Tom desperately wanted Emily to give him head, but she always refused. She had asked me about it, and I told her that all guys love to have their cocks sucked. And that they love a girl who will let them cum in their mouth. Emily made a face, and said "Eww! I don't think I'd let Tom do that." I just shrugged. It's not most girl's fantasy, I guess, though I know a lot of girls who do enjoy giving head. Just not taking the load in their mouths. "It's no big deal," I told her. "Some guys - yeah, it's pretty strong - even downright skanky! But most guys, it's just rather salty and, well, fishy." She didn't like that at all. Poor Tom. But I wondered if Emily had ever tried it - had ever tasted a guy's cum before - and figured, "What the heck! If she's really not into it, she won't do it. No harm." Well, to my delight - and Tom's - Emily did give in. She sucked him off in the front seat of his car after going to the movies. And she swallowed it all down! Emily told me about it that night as we were laying in bed. I was getting way turned on, more by the fact that I very well may have had something to do with it than anything else. But sex talk is sex talk, and it was making me horny. I lay in bed, playing with my pussy discretely under the covers, as she told me all about it. "I don't know what came over me!" she exclaimed. "But, well, I just saw his cock all hard and long, and knew he wanted me to put it in my mouth - and I have done that before. But this time... I don't know... I felt this, like, hunger inside me - way deep down. More - well, curious. But very turned on curious, you know what I mean? And I ignored that part of me that always got grossed out by the idea and just - well, kept on licking and sucking and making him feel good. And that was turning me on more than it ever has before, too! Knowing that he was going nuts, and that I was doing it to him!" "Mmm-hmm," I said, knowing exactly what she meant. Power is an aphrodisiac. "So, anyway, I could feel his cock get really hard, and like, tighten up, and he said 'Fuck, baby! I'm gonna' cum!' And I smiled, with my tongue sliding up that really sensitive spot just under the rim, and didn't back off. And he said 'Oh, fuck, babe! I'm gonna - I'm gonna'...' And then he came! "I didn't know what to expect, so I just kept my mouth wrapped around his cock and did my best not to choke as his jizz shot in my mouth. I choked some, too, which embarassed me..." Emily glanced at me to see if I thought any less of her for not being an expert at giving head, but I had my eyes half-closed, enjoying my own imaginary show, and just nodded. "Anyway - I felt kind of - I don't know... powerful? Really sexual, having his cock throbbing like that in my mouth. I swallowed down what I could, though a lot dribbled out - which was kind of a turn on, too, actually. I kind of liked it getting all messy, down my hands and chin and all... And while I can't say that I really love the taste," Emily paused again. "I did love the way it made me feel to get him off like that. And to hear him moan and writhe and feel so damn good." "Yeah," I replied. "I know what you mean. That is very sexy." I slipped a finger into my oh so wet pussy, wanting to do more, fuck the fact that Emily was right there. But another idea crept into my wicked little head... "So - are you going to do it to him again?" I asked. Emily cocked her head as she thought about it. I could see that she was turned on, too, by the way her nipples were showing through her night gown. "Yeah - I think I will. But I want it to be something special. I'm not going to go down on him all the time, just because he likes it!" I smiled at that. There was a pause as the conversation lagged, and finally Emily said "Well, goodnight, Kat. I - I'm kinda tired now, so I'm going to turn out the lights. Is that okay with you?" "Sure," I said. I was dying to put a little more effort into my masturbation, and felt it would be easier to do with the lights out, anyway. Emily turned out the lights, and I waited a few minutes listening to see if she went to sleep so I could get myself off. Damn me if she wasn't over there fingering herself in her bed, too! I guess the sex helped calm her unconscious down enough that she didn't sleepwalk for about four or five nights. But when she did, I suggested that she masturbate for me. I was more than delighted when it didn't take a day or two for the suggestion to take effect. Emily was sitting up in bed when I said "Emily, play with yourself for me. I want to watch you cum." And she just pushed off the covers, pulled off her nighty and sat with her legs open, facing me, and began to do exactly that! I was in heaven! It was strange to have her looking at me, but not really at me, you know? Like, she was seeing me, but because she wasn't truly awake, I wasn't sure if she could watch me or not. Tentatively, I slipped out from under my covers and slid out of my panties and T and began to masturbate along with Emily. I watched her, and let her watch me getting off watching her. She didn't wake up, and she didn't snap out of it, but she just did what I asked. She masturbated in front of me as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Totally uninhibited. And hot! OM f-ing God! Emily has this strange innocent sexuality. She's built very curvy - wide hips, very rounded ass, huge breasts, and has this beautiful pussy, like an orchid. And she made sure that I could see it very well from where I lay, smiling as I watched. I only wished she weren't asleep! As exciting as it was - and it was, believe you me! - Emily wasn't getting off to me getting off to her. And I wanted that. I wanted to see her watch me play with my pussy. To know - just like Tom - that I was getting turned on and enjoying the sight of her playing with herself. That it was giving me a lot of pleasure and excitement to do this together. The fact that Emily responded so quickly to this suggestion was - well, suggestive - in and of itself. I felt even more turned on as another idea crept into my wicked head... "Emily," I said in my firm yet gentle tone. I was getting a lot of practice at this! "I think we should do this together more often, don't you? In fact, I want us to do this together. Soon! Tomorrow." Emily's face made a half-smile as she nodded. Her fingers were sliding over her pussy now, very hard, and she was really getting into it for me. "That's it," I said as I lay back enjoying the show. "Now, cum for me, Emily! Go ahead - cum! I want you to do it. We'll do it together, if you like." I came when Emily did because she made this little nod that she wanted me to cum, too, when she did. "Ohhhh!" I crooned as I orgasmed. I lay there panting as Emily, in a dream, got up and slowly slipped on her nighty and went back to bed. I gathered up my clothes and slipped them back on, too. I slept well, dreaming of the delights the next day should bring. The next day, I watched for signs that last night's suggestion had taken. Or if Emily rememembered watching me masturbate with her. I knew something was up because Emily seemed agitated. I'd catch her staring at me out of the corner of my eye. But when I turned to look, Emily would look away, a puzzled frown on her face. I wasn't sure if this boded well for my little control fantasy... Finally, I decided the best course of action for me to take was to act as if nothing was going to happen. That way, if it did - great! I would be in for a good time! If not - well, maybe we just needed a few more "sessions" - which I wouldn't mind so much, either. I would much rather have Emily an active, willing participant. But, in time... I went and took a shower. As I was in there, shaving my legs, Emily knocked and came into the bathroom. "Just - uh - needed something..." she said, and glanced around nervously. "Sure," I shrugged and went back to concentrating on my shaving. Knowing Emily was there, I decided to put on bit of a show, testing her. I rinsed off my legs and then lathered up my pubic hair. I keep it trimmed, and it was due for a shave. I like a little patch, just down the center. I noticed Emily watching me in the mirror. "Kat?" she finally spoke. "Can I ask you something?" Trying not to get too hopeful, I did my best to concentrate on what I was doing. Making sure that Emily could see my pussy as I trimmed the nether reaches of my outer lips. "Sure," I said, acting cool. Emily paused, watching me. Finally, I looked up and caught her glance in the mirror. She blushed, and pulled out a brush and began to brush out her hair. She has medium length, blonde hair with hilights to die for. "Uhm - have you ever..." she began. "Kat - have you ever - dreamed about - being with another woman?" she asked. She looked at me quickly, then went back to looking at herself in the mirror. "Sure," I said and laughed. "I used to all the time when I was a teen. It was when I began to figure out I was bi that I used to. Why?" Emily put the brush down. "Do you think - Do you think it means you're - into - other women if you - um, have a dream about one?" She was so cute. So naive, sometimes, but so cute! "Not necessarily. It could just be a dream. Like Freud said - 'sometimes a cigar is just a cigar'. It doesn't have to mean anything." Emily seemed to relax a bit when I said that. "Oh, thank God," she muttered softly. "Why? Did you -? Do you mean, you had a dream about another woman last night?" I asked, feiging ignorance. I was also trying to keep my tone playful and not betray the tickle of lust that was beginning in my pussy. Emily picked the brush back up and went back to brushing her hair. "No. Well, yes - but... Well, like you said, it doesn't mean anything, right?" "Right," I assured her. My hopes were up, though, and I felt my pussy grow warm. I concentrated on my razor, however. When I looked back up, Emily was looking at my pussy in the mirror. I had the lips pulled slightly apart as I cleaned the edges, and she got a good look at my pink center. I pretended not to notice. Soon, Emily finished brushing and said, "Well, thanks for the talk," and went out. Weird. But promising. Nothing much happened the rest of the aternoon, so I just figured she needed a few more nights of "coaching." I was right. That night, I heard Emily sit up. She was talking to me, and at first I thought she was awake. But when I turned on the reading lamp, I saw that she was in her sleepwalking state. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, mumbling something to me - I heard my name clearly but not much else. And Emily was already lifting up her teddy and pulling it off. Her hands ran over her beautiful, large nipples and she moaned. I slipped out from under the covers and lay back on my bed. I pulled off my panties and T-shirt and lay naked like I had the night before. I encouraged Emily as she began to slide her fingers under her panties. She slipped them off and opened her legs wider for me to see. "Mmmm - that's my good Emily," I said. "That looks wonderful. Doesn't it feel good to do that to yourself for me?" Emily replied "Yes" in that dreamy sleep-talk she had. "I like it when you show me your pussy," I told her gently. "I love to watch how you pleasure yourself. Would you like to watch me pleasure myself?" I asked. Emily nodded and got up from her bed. My heart was racing as she settled on mine, her far-away gaze sweeping over my body as I lay there. I was so tempted to reach out and touch her, but feared I'd wake her up if I went too far too soon. So I lifted one leg and slid my fingers into my pussy where she could see. If she could really see, that is. I hoped that, on some level, she was taking all this in. "Do you like my pussy?" I asked her. "Do you like to see my fingers going in and out of my wet little slit?" "Yes," she said. I picked up my pace as Emily continued her slow, dreamy masturbation while sitting on the edge of my bed. Only a few inches separated her skin from mine. The temptation was almost overpowering! "I want to see you, too," I told her. "Finger your wet pussy for me, Em." She immediately complied. "I like doing this..." she said softly. "I like doing this for you..." I thrilled to hear it! And it sent me over the edge. I came, and my juices flowed out of my pussy, soaking my cover sheet. "I'm so glad, Em" I said. I sat up, careful not to touch her though dying to do so. "I want you to do this for me. I want you to watch me, too. Will you, sweetie? Will you do this with me tomorrow? I want us to so much." Emily nodded and her hand pressed deeper into her own lovely pussy. "That's it, Em - finger yourself. Harder. I love it when you do that!" Her body responded, and her hand went faster and harder into her puss. "Oh, yes, Emily... yes!" I watched as her fingers played with her clit, and her body began to contract. "Cum for me, Em. Cum!" She shuddered as her orgasm broke over her. I watched as her hand pressed deep and hard, and smelled her wonderful aroma as her cum flowed out into her hand. I felt naughty and in control. "Let me smell you," I said. "Let me smell you from your hand." Emily lifted her hand and I inhaled her aroma deeply. Gently, fearing I might wake her, I let me tongue sneak out and just barely touch her wet skin. Her taste was warm and sweet, and I felt a jolt of delight go right through me. I was going to have to have more - and soon! Sleepwalker! Just past my 18th birthday my Dad died in a boating accident. The sudden death of my Father was like a dash of cold water in my face and that of my Mom. It took the wind right out of our sails. Suddenly we had almost no one but ourselves and the fear was intense for a while. Fortunately, our house was free from mortgage and Dad had left behind sufficient arrangements so that we were not paupers. Slowly and painfully my Mom led us back to sanity and stability. She had been working as a librarian for a few years and that kept her busy and distracted and I had my studies and gym. Naturally we grew closer than ever during the months after and the filial bonds strengthened. My Mom was a good looking Lady who had always had her share of stares from men and even older boys. She and Dad had always had a fairly moderate social life but they were not swingers and without my Dad my Mom pretty much withdrew from the social scene. We spent much of our free time together helping one another fill the gap. I started acting grown up and had to take on "responsibility". I focussed more and more on my studies as I saw that as the road to salvation. And I helped Mom at home. Chores I used to refuse to do were now a part of my routine. I was becoming the Man of the house. I had to. My Mom urged me to continue to be the person I was but yet she was also happy to see the change in me. I was fast becoming a good looking lad and conscientiously worked at my studies and the gym. For the past year or two I had been particularly noticing the way men looked at my Mom. She always dressed conservatively but I guess a great figure and looks just cannot be hidden. She had hair the colour of golden honey half-way down her back and she took care of it. Well she took care of herself with regular walks and was blessed with a complexion many paid for. Her figure was full, not quite voluptuous but certainly full with a tucked in lovely waist and a flare to her hips which led to a still tight rear. While she was certainly past her 20s, she still turned a few heads. This was despite her trying not to emphasise her attributes. The clothes she wore did not show off her figure and her hair was always in a simple bun. She wore sensible flat shoes and rarely applied make up. Yet many men noticed her. I guess she had something. Even today She always carried herself just right. Her walk had a gentle undulating flow to it and her eyes could send a shiver down a spine. If I observed closely I noticed how her breasts swayed as she walked and one fine day I had a growing hard-on while looking at her in the kitchen preparing breakfast. It had happened so sudden that I was shocked and ashamed. I was afraid of getting up from where I sat and walking out because I was certain shed notice the tented shorts. I stayed glued to my stool with my eyes definitely averted from her. However, try as I might my eyes would not stay away for more than a few moments. I kept glancing at her as the light from the window streamed through her wrap and outlined her in a dizzying fashion. The next few weeks and months went by with a raging battle between my head and my loins. I felt guilty that my Mom turned me on like she did though my head kept telling me this was not quite right. While my focus on my studies stayed firm I dated with less vigour. Whenever I did a picture of my Mom would somehow drift into my mind. The death of my Dad put a stop to all that but only for a while. Now more than ever, I was closer to my Mom. Often in the evenings my Mom would quietly weep and I had to hug her and hold her close to calm her down. Then we'd just sit close together and hold hands. No words needed to be exchanged but my mind was more and more a whirl of lurid thoughts. I could banish neither those thoughts nor the boner I got from looking at her or being near her. The inevitable happened sooner rather than later. I woke up one morning with a huge hard-on and my hand curled around it. The woman on my mind was my Mom. I groaned but kept caressing my cock as it throbbed into a monumental erection. Soon I was jerking off with pictures of my sweet Mom swirling through my mind. I barely made it to the bathroom when my cum spewed from my aching cock in long explosive spurts. That left me panting and wanting for more. This soon became a morning routine. Around this time, one night I was up late working on some research and submissions I had to make when I heard a noise from the hallway and stepped out. The soft groaning was coming from my Moms bedroom. I padded to the door which was always ajar and peeked in. The room was dark but the streetlights threw in enough illumination through the thin drapes. My Mom was in her bed and it took me a while to realise that she was asleep. She was having a dream I thought. She was slowly arching in the bed and her left hand was softly caressing her flat tummy. Her hand slowly rose to cover her breast as she let out a soft moan. With a shock I realised that her other hand was dipped between her thighs. I stared at this scene in fascination. She continued to caress herself and was practically writhing in her bed. My own crotch was throbbing like mad and my hand was under the elastic band of my shorts. That night I came watching my Mom doing the same in bed – in her sleep. A few nights later I again heard noise outside the door and saw my Mom slowly walk past in her negligee. I got up to speak with her but realised that she was sleepwalking! I followed her to the top of the stairs where she stopped and held the railing in her two hands as she mumbled and swayed. Her negligee was a sheer black lacy thing that barely hid anything. My eyes were glued to her rear as she leaned forward slowly. Her feet were splayed apart as she slowly started breathing heavier. Her head was bent forward and her lustrous hair tumbled all about her face as her hips slowly started flowing back n forth. In her sleepwalking state, my Mom was fucking someone imaginary!!! Her mumbles turned into moans as her hips swayed back n forth. Obviously I had a huge aching hard on. My eyes were all over her back and on her fabulous rear. Almost naked as she was, I truly realised how sexy my Mom was and why so many men stared at her. Her negligee fluttered about her hips as she "fucked" at the top of the stairs! I knelt behind her and unashamedly looked up between her parted thighs and peeped into heaven. Her lovely pink lips glistened with her pre-cum and I almost blasted off in my shorts there and then. The aroma of her musk filled the air and set me off trembling. I started fisting my huge cock as I watched her lips swell and get wet. By now she was moving faster and moaning quite loudly. Her hips sawed back towards my face as I leaned ever closer to them. Suddenly I could take it no longer and as my hand blurred on my cock I erupted. It was so big that the initial spatter of my cum shot clear through between her knees. I was fascinated when I saw her lips swell and clench and then her own juices dripped out and ran down her thighs. She slowly calmed down and her hands stopped clenching the banister. I got up on shaky feet and backed into my room as she turned and walked back to her bedroom and got into bed. I barely slept the rest of the night. I needed to go to the bathroom a few times and each time I spewed a load as big as the biggest I had and yet I remained hard and big for hours after. The next day things were normal between us. At least I was trying for that as much as I could. I could barely take my eyes off her though. While Mom went to work I worked on my assignments and submissions but was totally distracted by a constant ache in my balls. My hormones were raging fiercely. The next few nights went by in a hot daze for me. My Mom asked me if I was alright and I always said that it was all fine. Then one night, again, she seemed distressed and I saw her quietly wipe a tear from her eyes. I was immediately by her side and held her from behind and she leaned back against me with a shiver. I held her with my arms circled under her breasts. We were like this for a few minutes and she slowly relaxed back into my chest. But unlike before I did not let go of her. I continued to hold her because I liked the feel of my Mom in my arms! Her lovely full ass was slowly pressing against me as she relaxed and my face was buried in her hair. I softly kissed her hair and then she shook herself as though waking up and turned around to pat my cheek. Her eyes were bright. "Thank you Ben. I don't know what I would do without you" I shrugged in embarrassment. If only she knew my thoughts then! "I am always there for you Mom, whatever the need" I could not believe I had said that because it had many interpretations. "I know" she caressed my arm. "My Man. I am proud of you. Time for bed". "Night Mom". That night I lay awake savouring the memory of her lovely full body against mine. I wondered if she had felt the bulge in my crotch. Definitely not, I thought. I awoke from deep sleep and realised that I had fallen asleep. Some noise had awoken me and I sat up in bed. What I then heard gave me an instant stir in my crotch. I could hear my Mom moaning. I crept out and realised she was in bed and walked to her door. This time I did not stop there but boldly walked in and stood by the foot of her bed. She was wearing that sheer negligee and was softly moaning as her hands caressed up and down her curves. She dipped a hand between her thighs and slowly her knees rose and parted. I had a grandstand view of this all being at the foot of her bed. Her fingers softly ran along her lips as her other hand swept the negligee up until her breasts were exposed and I groaned out aloud. They were fabulous! Nothing like anything my girlfriends had not even what their mothers had. These were perfect globes with a delightful sag to them. Her areoles were light pink and small and her nips were small too though quite pointy and hard now. Her hand cupped them in turns as she started massaging her lips. I slowly knelt at the foot of her bed and stretched a hand up towards her crotch. Her lips were already wet and puffy as her hips slowly writhed. She slowly put both her hands to her breasts and moaned suddenly as she pinched her nipples slowly. My stretched hand was way up between her thighs and in a moment of madness I let a fingertip caress up the crease of her lips. She moaned again and her hips bucked slowly up. I repeated the caress only to see her start to slide lower seeking the caress. Her hands made mounds of her breasts as she fondled them. Her hips slid lower down the bed and I let my finger enter her moist lips. She was unbelievable hot and wet inside as my long finger slid into her. I started caressing her from within in a swirling motion. And got nearer her clitoris which obviously was quite excited by now. She started bucking her hips more and more fucking my finger with regular thrusts of her hips. She then raised her hands to the headboard and gripped it tight and pushed herself down on my finger hard! I lay half on her bed with my fingers (now two of them) sliding in and out of her dripping wet lips and her hips jerked up and down the bed as her hands pulled and pushed her. I was finger-fucking my luscious Mom! My other hand was gripping my cock as I fisted desperately. Her aroma was strong as she started a deep moan. My fingers were slick with her juices as they slid deep into her and my balls tightened and ached for release. I started thumbing her clit as my fingers rubbed into her and my Mom almost lifted her hips off the bed with a groan loud enough to be heard through the house. Her pussy exploded around my fingers! She was cumming on my fingers and I rubbed her fast and hard while fisting my cock towards my own orgasm. My entire being seemed to erupt as I came. My spurts threw my cum high up and onto her bed where it spattered her sheets. I quickly withdrew my hand and knelt and kept cumming! Oh Gods I came! I crawled off hearing her softening moans. When I looked back as I left her room she was curled up in bed and was smiling to herself, still asleep. I desperately avoided her for the next few days and finally she noticed it. "Ben. What is wrong?" "Nothing at all. Why do you ask?" "You have been very quiet these few days". She walked up to me and hugged me. "Won't you tell your Mom?" I squirmed but could only mumble some inane stuff about submissions etc. All the time I could only notice hoe her breasts squashed up against me. I barely made it to my bathroom. Things moved quickly from thereon. Almost every night I would creep into my Moms room and jack off watching her and on some nights she might have her dreams and I'd touch her. She also sleepwalked more often. One morning as I walked past her door, I saw her softly caressing her bed sheets with a strange look in her eyes and panicked when I remembered that I had cum on them last night. I avoided looking at her that morning before I slipped off to class. That night, she slowly walked into my room – in her sleep. She walked up to the drawers and placed her hands on the edge and spread her feet apart. She threw her head back as she moaned. Her hips in that now familiar rhythm. I knelt behind her and let her pussy come to my finger and she thrust them back to take in more and more of my two fingers. I was getting better at stimulating her with each try. I knew what made her mewl and shudder. I started two-fingering her clit and fisting my cock and soon her juices were dribbling down my knuckles. Her lovely full ass was thrusting back into my face and before I knew it I was softly licking my fingers to taste her as she moaned towards her orgasm. I had lost my mind and any fear that she could wake up never crossed my mind. As she exploded, I withdrew my fingers and arched my face up between her thighs and started licking her as her juices practically sprayed out of her and onto my stretched tongue. I was licking her as fast as she could cum. My hands softly held her hips. My lust filled mind missed something. My Mom turned and was suddenly facing me and I was staring at her pussy. She leaned her ripe ass against the dresser and placed her hands on the top of my head. I looked up to see her eyes were closed. I went rigid with fear. "Ben. Don't stop now." I was shocked. She was awake! Before I could say anything her hands pulled my face to her lips and I licked them and kissed them. I made love to her pussy. No, I worshipped her pussy that night. She rode my face and I put my tongue deep up into her and she rode that too. She had a series of orgasms that night and so did I. The floor was a puddle of our cum near the dresser. All through the whole episode, she never opened her eyes or at least I did not notice it. The next morning I was too ashamed to even get out of bed but Mom went about the day as though nothing had happened. I almost locked myself into my room for 2 days. Stepping out only for food. At the end of two days I realised that Mom was no different and she was not going to bring it up. So maybe it was best I ignore it too. That morning I stepped out as though everything was as usual. "Good Morning Mom." "Good Morning Ben. I missed our mornings. But you seem to be ok now. All well?" "Never better Mom." That was that. I heaved a sigh of relief. That night my Mom walked into my room in her negligee. I sat up in bed and watched her walk in. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling softly. As she shrugged out of her negligee her lovely breasts jostled softly as she walked to the edge of my bed and climbed up. She stood atop me as I looked up at her. Her hands caressed her flanks and her hips and then I sat up under her and started kissing and caressing her thighs. Soon her hands clawed through my hair as she drew my face to her pussy and I ate her. My hands were denting her lovely ass as I licked her deeply enough for her to cum twice in quick succession. She placed her hands on my shoulders as she moaned out her lust. Her juices poured into my hungry mouth. She then slowly knelt down until her lips were just above the tent my short were. I slowly wriggled my hips as I slid them off my feet. My hands came up to cup her breasts and I was thumbing her nips as she reached down between us to fist my hard cock. I grew and thickened with each passing minute and then she lowered herself on top of my cock. Her pussy was amazingly tight around it and she groaned as I went up her. She did not open her eyes but muttered. "So big!" My hands were around her slim waist as her hands gripped the headboard. She started riding my pole as I rammed up into her. I was fucking my lusty Mom! And she was a great fuck! Perhaps the best I'd ever have. My cock was throbbing fiercely as I rammed it up into her. She met my thrusts with her own downward thrusts impaling herself upon it. Her juices flowed and coated my shaft into silky smoothness. I thrashed up into her and my heart was hammering. My hands pulled her hips down as I thrust up grinding my cock into her. I was in no state to think of the situation. I just wanted to fuck this sexy woman riding my throbbing cock and that is exactly what I did. I soon blasted a huge load of cum into her and let out a huge groan as I did. This however did not do much to soften my hard on. It sometimes took me a couple of orgasms before I softened and I was stil hard in my Mom as we slowed to a shuddering halt. She slowly raised herself off me and stepped off the bed as I watched. My eyes crawled all over her voluptuous curves. As she walked away from the bed I stepped up to her and for the first time took charge. My hands curled around her hips and she stopped. I slowly pushed her down and knelt with her kissing her between her shoulders. As she knelt her perfect ass was pushed back into my lap and onto my still huge hard cock. I pushed her onto her hands and knees and slowly knelt behind her. I was going to fuck my Mother doggie-style! I reached under her to cup her heavy breasts as they quivered and entered her already wet lips. The first thrust was so long and deep that she let out a long groan at the end of it. My hands clasped her lovely clipped in waist as I rammed into her and she rocked back to take me in. All of me. My balls swung painfully as I fucked her like this. The thrusts were driving me deeper into her. More than I could imagine. I had a bigger than average cock and yet her pussy swallowed it all. Soon I was shuddering as I felt my cum rise through my shaft and then I buried myself one last time and spurted my cum into her fantastic pussy. I held her back against it with a hand grasping her waist while the other curled under her to cup and squeeze her breasts. All this without a word ever exchanged. She never once opened her eyes but she sure opened mine. My Mom sleepwalked almost every other night and I loved my Mom. Sleepwalker Shelley was visiting Beth and Mike. Shelley and Beth had been best friends since primary school, and had often stayed with each other. This, however, was the first time Shelley had come to stay overnight since Beth's marriage, about six months previously. As it was a while since she'd last visited, Shelley and Beth were nattering, as girls will do when they're catching up. Mike was amused by, but not really taking part in, the chatter. About ten he informed Beth that he was hitting the pillows, she could retire when and if she and Shelley ran out of things to say. The two young women said good night and Mike departed, leaving them to it. The talking continued, and it was nearly eleven thirty when Beth suddenly brought up the subject of Mike. "Mike is a lovely husband, you know, but he does have one odd habit," she suddenly announced. Shelley quirked an eyebrow at her. "And you're telling me this because???" she said, her hand circling in a tell me more motion. "Because this odd habit is that he sleepwalks sometimes. We don't know what sets it off, but once or twice a month he just gets up in the middle of the night and wanders around the house and then goes back to bed. He's even been known to make himself some coffee and drink it. It's eerie." Shelley laughed. "Do you know what causes it?" she asked, "And you've told me what the habit is, but not why you're suddenly telling me about it." "According to the psychiatrist he saw it's harmless, just a side effect of his creative mind searching for a solution to some project he's working on. I was told to just leave him go when he does it. The reason I'm telling you is I just saw him wander out of the bedroom and head down to the kitchen. He'll probably come in here before he goes back to bed." Shelley looked startled, and the two women watched the door. A short time later Mike, clad in pyjama bottoms, strolled through it and started wandering slowly around the room. The girls looked at each other and giggled, as it was rather obvious that their sleepwalking visitor was carrying an erection. Beth looked at Shelley, thoughtfully. "Tell me, Shell. Have you ever been raped?" she asked. Shelley looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Raped. It's where a man pulls down your panties and helps himself to the goodies without your permission." "I know what being raped mean," giggled Shelley, "and, no, I haven't. But why do you want to know?" "Have you ever wondered what it would be like?" continued Beth, looking at Mike has he wandered around the room. "I imagine most women have wondered," replied Shelley, "but you're being evasive again. Why are you asking?" "Well, I was thinking if you'd like to find out what it's like, go and stand where Mike will bump into you." "What?" "If I stand in front of Mike when he's like this, and he bumps into me, he promptly pushes me up against a wall and has sex with me. He doesn't even remember the next day that's he did it. It's quite an interesting experience." "Can't you just stop him?" asked Shelley. "I'm not sure. I tried to resist once but he just ignored that and had his fun, and I had to go along with it. I suspect that if I put up a real fight, he'd wake up, but I don't want to wake him while he's sleepwalking, because it upsets him." Shelley laughed. "He probably knows it's you and thinks he's entitled," she pointed out. "Only way to find out is for someone else to stand in front of him," pointed out Beth. "Be my guest," she added, sweeping her hand towards Mike. Shelley rose to her feet and moved in front of Mike. She hesitated. "You don't really think he'll just grab me and take me do you?" "I don't know, but don't worry if he does. He won't remember it." "Maybe not, but I'd definitely remember if he grabs me and bonks me," retorted Shelley. "And you'll remember. Won't you mind?" "I don't think so," said Beth. "He won't know anything about it and if he vaguely remembers having sex during the night, he'll automatically assume it was me." Shelley nervously regarded the approaching Mike. He looked as though he was awake and his eyes were open. Then she realised that he wasn't actually looking at her, but through her, staring into the distance. Deciding that discretion was called for, Shelley stepped aside, only to find that Mike had stepped aside to go around her. They came together, and Mike's arms closed around her. "Beth," she called. "Too late, I think," Beth giggled. "You're about to be screwed." "Beth, call him off," squeaked Shelley, finding that Mike was backing her up against the wall. "Stop it, Mike." "Unfortunately, Shell, he can't hear you. But since you told him not to, I think it's now rape. I'm not sure of the legalities when the man's not conscious." "This isn't funny, Beth," called Shelley. "Can't you do something?" "I can watch and see how he goes with another woman," giggled Beth. Shelley now found that Mike had her backed up against the wall, and his hand was reaching up her dress and pulling at her panties. She pushed at him hoping to shake him awake, but quickly learned that this was the wrong thing to do. Mike caught her hands and lifted them above her head, holding them pressed to the wall with one hand. Mike's free hand returned to addressing the panties issue, stopping to check out her breasts on the way down. She squirmed, trying to move away from that groping hand, but Mike expertly pulled her panties down. Now he'd lifted her dress and was pressing against her. She could feel his erection pressing against her, and realised that it had slipped out of his pyjamas, ready for action. She flung a frantic look at Beth, only to see her watching the action with interest. Then Shelley gasped as she felt Mike moving her lips apart and pressing his erection into the space created. "Beth," she protested. "He's really going to take me. Stop him." She squeaked as she felt Mike press more firmly against her and then he was sliding smoothly into her, filling her with one long smooth thrust. "Son of a bitch," she exclaimed, "he's really doing it. What do I do now, Beth?" "There's nothing you can do. Just follow Confucius's advise. Relax and enjoy." Shelley groaned as Mike slowly pulled back, and then groaned again as her returned deep into her. "You bitch," she groaned at Beth. "You deliberately set me up for this. Oh, god." Shelley gasped and gave little squeaks as Mike moved slowly in and out of her pussy, taking his time but making sure his thrusts penetrated deeply into her. "How do you make him hurry up and get it over with," she gasped, squirming and feeling her insides turning inside out at the slow movements Mike was inflicting on her. "You can't," came the giggled reply. "I've tried. He just maintains that slow pace until the very end. It drives me wild when he does it. Totally different to the way he takes me when he's awake. If it's any help, he'll quicken up when he's ready to come." "That's not a help. I can't concentrate with this thing inside me," gasped Shelley. "How long does he go on for?" "It varies," said Beth. "It's a bit hard to tell how long he's taking when his cock is slowly turning you inside out." Shelley groaned, and Mike slowly drove into her. Something was different, Shelley knew, and she tried to focus long enough to work out what. Her hands, she realised. Mike had let them go, and his hands were now on her breasts, squeezing them in time to those damned slow thrusts. She hadn't even noticed him freeing them from her top and bra. Shelley writhed, gasped and squeaked, while Beth watched with fascination and Mike continued on his leisurely way, taking his pleasure from the nubile young body he had pinned against the wall. Shelley gasped and suddenly screamed, an orgasm sweeping over her. Mike may have been building it slowly, but he had definitely given her one. She sagged back against the wall, held firmly in place by Mike's slow but relentless pounding. Shelley heard Beth saying something, but didn't have enough self-awareness to comprehend. What she was aware of was the aftermath of her climax and that cock still pounding away inside her. Pounding is the wrong word, an errant thought told her. This was more like being massaged internally with warm silk. As her climax faded into memory Shelley found Mike's slow treatment once again coming to the fore of her mind. Everything was that cock and the way it was moving in her, slowly building her tensions, tightening them with each long leisurely stroke. Her squeaks and squeals came louder and faster as she felt herself moving towards the edge of a cliff, and then she screamed as Mike gave a sudden surge and pushed her over, when he suddenly slammed into her hard and fast, letting his own climax run its course. Shelley leant back against the wall gasping, while a giggling Beth steered Mike towards the bedroom. She watched him climb into bed and settle down, and returned to Shelley. "So, Shell," Beth asked. "Ever been raped, and if so, what was it like?" Shelley gave her a pained look, and then laughed. "That was fun," she admitted. "Are you sure he won't remember in the morning?" "Positive. As far as he's concerned, it never happened. He's good, though, isn't he? Not as imaginative as when he's awake, but slow and steady does the trick at times." "It did the trick twice, that time," said Shelley, a giggle in her voice. In the bedroom, Mike settled down to go to sleep. It wasn't often that a man got to rape his wife's friend in front of her and not have to worry about any comeback, either from his wife or the friend. He idly wondered if she could be persuaded to ask some other friends to sleep over. Sleepwalker The first time it happened, I woke up straddling the banister, my toes kicking against the carpeted stair on the right and open air on the left. My jaw was stretched at the hinges and complained when I pushed against the cottony mass in my teeth with my dry tongue - the edge of my t-shirt, pulled over my breasts and jammed into my mouth. My panties were a wet mess, the inside edge of both leg bands worked tight into my outer lips. When I hazily dismounted and made my way to the bathroom, I was sure from the soaked cotton gusset and the clammy damp I felt down to my knees that I'd peed myself, but I was wrong. No ammonia on the smell of my panties, none on me, just the seashell musk neediness of having come and come and come again, riding the second floor banister in my sleep. My throat scratched with pulled-in screams the next day and I only figured out three days later that the lingering twinge along the inside edges of each breast when I put on or took off my bra must have come from me crushing and stroking them against the polished wood of the handrail. Alan never noticed I was out of bed at all. He's been travelling a lot for work, and was never even what you'd call a good sleeper at home. When he'd come home from the third trip hollow-eyed exhausted from the thousand complaints of the sensitive shoulder on the hotel mattress, I nuzzled my lips against the short hair just above his ear and made him promise me he'd talk to his doctor. He's been on Ambien now for three months, and it drops him like a rock no matter where his bed is. We were warned about the side effects, to watch closely for not just sleepwalking and conversations in pajamas that he couldn't remember in the morning, but for the more exotic symptoms: eating endless bowls of cereal at 3 AM, driving to the corner store with no conscious mind. Beth, a good friend, warned me especially about the sleep sex. Her husband, a thick-thighed man who plays in a weekend rugby league had been on the drug a week the first time she'd woken up to his tongue rooting against her asshole. Over the course of a month, the pattern repeated, not every night but always the same when it happened. He'd start by gently tonguing her ass open then he'd turn her onto her knees so he could put his thumb in her anus and two thick fingers in her pussy, rubbing the tips together against the thin membrane of muscle between the two. If she tried to move other than to stroke her clit or shake with orgasm, he held her firm by the nape of the neck until he was finished. Whenever his sleep-wrapped brain told him they were both ready, he'd mount her from behind and dig his hands into her hips, barreling at her until he pulled out and came on her back. When he was awake, he liked her to ride on top of him, working his palms against her breasts. When he was awake, he always asked to start with her mouth pulling him into full hardness while he stretched out on the mattress. When he was awake, he'd never eaten her ass. Beth thought it was a game at first, she winked and smiled at what she assumed were put-on baffled looks when she teased him about being sore from his rough treatment the night before. It wasn't until he told her he'd asked his doctor at the follow-up visit if Ambien was causing him not to remember kicking her in the night that she realized he didn't remember any of it at all. Before she could tie words enough to tell him around her pleasure and guilt for their early morning sex, he'd changed prescriptions. Now she tries to satisfy that part of herself by getting him to change positions and fuck her from behind sometimes - she can't bring herself to ask him to lick her. Instead, she looks through his porn history when he's at rugby practice for all the anal scenes and gets herself off with a dildo curved over on itself like a "c." In hindsight, Beth and I probably shouldn't have split a second bottle of wine that night. When Alan started on Ambien, I spent the first two weeks tingling with excitement that I might wake up in the middle of the night with his fingers inside me or the head of his cock probing against my sleep-sighing lips. Even nights when we'd had sex already, I waited for that secret door inside him to open up to me, for him to knock on my own secret doors under cover of sleep. I had trouble going to sleep and woke at the slightest turn of his body tugging the sheets. I fantasized every day about what carnality I'd find in him when the Ambien swept away his inhibitions. He's so polite, my Alan. So Midwestern, so quiet. When we were dating, he would move my hand if it got too high on his leg in a restaurant but as soon as we got in the door of his apartment, he'd lay me out on the floor and fuck me until the hardwood left a sore scuff against my tailbone. He's a contained man, a ship in a bottle man. When we were dating, I knew just how to shake the glass to billow his sails. Living together, being married...there's something about that intimacy of sharing a towel when the rest are in the laundry and rolling your eyes over a forgotten bill that pulls the cork out of the bottle. So we fuck politely all the time now, with him asking my permission by rubbing my shoulders or squeezing my hand after dinner, then coming to bed in nothing but his boxers a few hours later. He kisses my shoulder, I put my book away. I squeeze at his dry cock through his boxers and his thickness against my palm, it always makes me wet for him. I can't help the way I'm built, the way my body knows it was made to hold him inside me. He kisses his way on top of me and strokes the head of his cock against my clit while I bury my face in the black hair on his chest and breathe in his rich smell and imagine him as a pirate or a high school teacher or a hundred men in a long line waiting for my cunt. When he enters me it's always a tight fit, always feels like opening and giving on a bigger scale, and it pushes whatever other role I've cast him in out of my mind, out of my body from the bottom up. He never lasts inside me as long as I want, but I always tell him it is good. I don't ask his permission at all anymore because I learned long ago that I ask in the wrong ways, that my tongue in his ear or my panties pressed against his hip turn him off when he's not expecting them. I used to have him use his fingers to make me come three, four more times after we were done with sex, but not anymore. He'll try anything I ask without complaining, and he'll try it enthusiastically for about a minute before he stops to kiss me instead. He'll never do it again if I don't ask. He'll try anything I ask without complaining because that is what's polite. So that first time it happened, I really did think it was a dream, even as I stripped out of my wet panties and blinked in the half-light of the bathroom at the tiny divots my teeth left in the cotton of my t-shirt. I thought I might still be dreaming as I ran a cold washcloth over my thighs and stinging, swollen lips, pulled fresh panties from the hamper, and curled back against the mattress at Alan's side. I had to accept that something, however strange, had happened when I furtively wiped the dried residue off the bannister while my husband packed his suitcase. I was quiet with soreness and wonder as I drove him to the airport. "Hey, don't be sad," he stroked my jaw with the backs of his fingers, mistaking the meaning in the tightness of my mouth. "It's this trip until Sunday, then the one to Atlanta next week, then I'm home for a whole month." He kissed me and I tilted my head against his shoulder, wanting nothing more than to hold him against me forever and for him to get the fuck out of the car already. "I'll see you on Sunday." The second time it happened, I woke up in the 4 AM dark with my naked skin pressed to the front door, my hands clenched painful tight against the curtain of the nearby window and the doorknob lodged wetly inside me. I must have used the curtain to pull myself up, because I didn't see a chair or anything else nearby I could have used as a step. Any move I made, any shift of weight, turned me on the hard, smooth brass of the doorknob and stretched and pressed my inner lips. When I tried to gently slide off to one side, the intensity of it made me come, my knees and nipples stiff against the door. After several more painful shifts, I finally got enough leverage that, with a hard yank on the curtains, I fell in a heap on the floor. The curtain rod pulled its screws from the wall and bonked me on the head to punctuate the reality of the situation. My vulva ached and I could feel the puddle under my calf that couldn't have been anything but my own wetness, slick-pooled on the floor. My throat tasted like dust. I rolled onto my back, tangled in the curtain, to collect what I remembered about how I got there, what dream I'd been having, what thoughts I had before bed. Nothing. I had nothing that even partially explained how I'd ended up fucking the front door. Three hours and a shower later, I picked Alan up from the airport. We grabbed lunch and ran a few errands. In the grocery store, he rubbed my shoulders and sniffed my hair, as clear a sign he wanted sex when we got home as a billboard. My skin stretched over me tight as wire mesh with the desire to have him inside my bruised and aching pussy but it violently rejected the idea at the same time. After ten minutes of dithering over shampoo as a cover, I finally dropped an offhand comment about my menstrual cramps. That was enough to stop him cold. Sex on my period is messy. It's impolite. I did give him a long, enthusiastic blowjob at home, kneeling between his spread legs on the bed. When he drifted off into an afternoon nap after coming, I carefully slipped away from his side to open his suitcase. Tucked into his shaving kit was the orange bottle of Ambien. I took it into the bathroom with me and spilled the tablets out on the vanity. I counted, re-counted. The bottle held exactly thirty-seven pills, the number it should have if Alan had been taking one every night since he got the prescription filled. I hadn't taken one accidentally and he certainly couldn't have given me one last night, when he was still away. That had been my best guess to explain my two sleepwalking episodes and it was dead wrong. I was jumpy about sleep for the rest of the week and didn't get nearly enough of it. I didn't have any more episodes, but I watched myself all the time when I was awake for any weirdness of thought, any missed turns driving to work. My boss noticed and told me I had plenty of paid time off saved up and was ahead on all my projects - when Alan's out of town, I tend to go into work early and stay late - and gently suggested I take a few days off. I agreed, and finished up what I was doing for the day and went home at lunch. I paused just inside the closed front door and dropped to my knees, hazily licking the smooth surface of the doorknob. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I thought I could still taste traces of myself on the brass. I dug my hands under the hem of my skirt and rubbed them furiously against my outer lips. I wasn't wearing panties. How had I forgotten to put on panties before going to work? Had I taken them off? My confusion only added to my arousal; half-awake I was fully free. I came three times. I took a nap on the couch with Pi, our black and white cat, curled on my feet. It happened for the third time that night and I didn't stop myself. I woke up on my back in the kitchen in nothing but my t-shirt, pulled up to my throat to accommodate my hands frantically clutching and kneading at my breasts. The only light was what spilled in the window from the sodium lamps outside, so my pale skin looked orange and my pink nipples were dark brown. My hands looked like someone else's hands, they gripped and twisted my nipples, pulling my skin into tight pyramids. My ass felt full but not stretched. I brushed my heel against my anus and couldn't feel anything outside its puckering grasp. The only things I could see on the tile floor with me were a ten pound bag of coffee beans and my biggest kitchen knife. My hands were like gloves controlled by some other hands with other desires pushed inside them. They left my breasts and spread wide the lips of my soaking pussy, my clit jolting at the sudden exposure to the cold air of the kitchen. My right hand dove at my clit, rubbing with two fingers, while my left dug into the bag of coffee. I sighed as the hands that were and weren't mine pushed bean after black bean inside me. I counted them: thirty-seven. When there were exactly thirty-seven coffee beans inside me, my left hand clamped against my lips as if to stifle the coffee from screaming out of me and my right hand rubbed me over the edge to orgasm. Twice more I put another thirty-seven beans inside myself, though the last ones had me so stretched and soaked I came twice before they were all inside me. They warmed with the heat of my body and the smell of fresh coffee spread over all the other sensations of the kitchen. Perhaps that's why I started stroking the flat of the carving knife blade down my nose first. I don't know. I don't remember making any decisions, just delighting in my own unexpected actions and the pure, weird sensations they produced. The cold, smooth steel was comforting against my face after the frenetic stuffing and masturbation with the coffee. Down my nose, across my cheek, pressed against my lips - the knife was all the softer and more innocuous because of my awareness of the red promise along its edge. My tongue darted out to tease the dull back, my teeth clicked against the steel as I sucked on every dull part of the blade. I pressed the flat against my throat, the sharpness teasing my clavicles. I put the handle between my breasts and pushed them together, the tip grazing my chin. I arched my back as I carefully squeezed and stroked my breasts along the knife, the coffee beans shifting inside my vagina, a few falling to the floor. I took the knife back in my right hand and teased each of my nipples with the cold flat of the blade, then stroked it down my stomach. I knew where this was going, had known since the moment I curled my fingers around the handle, but there was nothing I could do but watch and wait, riding the experience. My left hand spread my outer lips again, and coffee filled my nose as my right hand dragged the dull edge of the knife smoothly across my clit. The knife turned, spreading and pressing against my inner lips as I rubbed myself against the cold, flat steel. I came gulping and gasping, my shaking hands and stone-stiff thighs making it impossible to keep my skin as safe as I had before. The fog that had wrapped into the crenulations of my brain through the whole dreamy thing covered me over entirely and I dozed off. I woke up fully myself, fully in control, and still half naked on the kitchen floor with a knife in my hand and my pussy and ass stuffed full of coffee beans. Dawn sliced in from the windows and I heard Alan's alarm clock chirp upstairs. I knew I'd never be able to get upstairs to the bathroom in time to put on clothes before he saw me. The urge to crawl into a cabinet and just hide from him, for him to wake up in a house without me or any trace of why I left overcame me, but the rational part of my brain made me shift to my feet and go to the laundry room instead. I dug into the hamper for a short bathrobe and tossed it over my shoulders before gently digging the coffee beans I could easily reach out of my vagina and into my palm. I heard Alan's feet on the stairs down from the bedroom and hurried to the kitchen. Just as he rounded the corner and smiled sleepily at me, I dropped my handful of coffee beans into the grinder and pressed my thumb against the button that whirled them into aromatic dust. He leaned over the breakfast bar to give me a kiss on the forehead and, while his eyes were closed, I slid the carving knife across the floor with my foot to the space underneath the overhanging cabinets. Other than a few stray coffee beans, there was no visible evidence of what I'd been doing an hour before. "Morning, Love," I sighed at him. "What are you going to do with three whole days off and me in Atlanta?" He asked, wrapping his forearm across my chest from shoulder to shoulder and pressing against my back. "Sleep in." "Not today." "Nope. Got up early, couldn't get back to sleep." It sounded so true coming out of my mouth that I believed it, I believed it entirely until I felt the fullness of my ass still stuffed with an unknown multiple of thirty-seven coffee beans and a vague sting on the inside of my left thigh. "Thought I'd make the most out of it and get a jump start on breakfast." He kissed my cheek and unwound from me, then sat at the table to check e-mails on his phone. He didn't notice me put the carving knife in the dishwasher or any unusual flavor to the coffee. He did notice something I hadn't as I brought plates of eggs and bacon to the table. "What's that on your leg? Is that...blood?" I looked down and saw smeared trickles of fresh red, mostly on my left thigh, inside and well above the knee. "Oh." He got up and took the plates from my hands. "How about I take these and you go clean up? Seems like it's been a rough week with...that." So polite. That's the closest he'll get to openly acknowledging the period I've had every month we've ever been together. In the bathroom, I wiped away the blood and finally saw the shallow cuts along my inner thigh like layers in creamy sandstone. Most of them were already closing and the deeper nicks were easily soaked with bits of toilet paper, like I made a disaster of shaving. Back at the table, Alan rubbed my shoulder in the non-sexual way. It's a subtle language we share, a joint physicality I've never had with anyone else. "I've been thinking, instead of you taking me to the airport today and picking me up Saturday, I should just take the Metro. We're so close to the station and my flights are at times it's easy to get a train." "Yeah, okay," I agreed. "I want to go to the hardware store, anyway," I added, the idea forming in my mind as soon as the words did on my lips. "I want to use my time off to do all those little house projects we've been putting off. Really go HGTV all over this place." His poorly-covered worry opened up on relief that I was back to business as usual. "Just make sure I can recognize the house when I get back." You know, I've done exactly what I said. I've probably made a dozen trips to the hardware store these past few days for spackle, paint, light bulbs, nails, shelves, picture frames. Everything we've ever said might be nice, I've done. I work against sleep, always finding some excuse not to get into our bed at night. It was covered in drawers I was lining with lavender-scented paper on Wednesday; mounded with laundry on Thursday; freshly ironed curtains laid out across it like a wedding trousseau on Friday. I nap, never more than three hours at a time, curled in on myself on couches and chairs. This afternoon I slept in a pile of freshly washed and dried sheets on the laundry room floor before balling them into the washer again. Pi curls with me, for the most part, or watches from a higher surface with her legs tucked under her, a black and white Buddha with a bottle-green blink. She probably thinks I've finally taken all her painstaking lessons in how to be a proper cat to heart. Even though my Winchester House routine is designed to stave off more sleepwalking, even though I wear two pairs of panties layered over each other at all times, my hands still haunt me. I wake from one nap pulling at my nipples, one in each hand, my body steepled across the back of the couch like an open book. In the shower, I reach for my razor but come back with my fingers wrapped around the handle of the carving knife. I have somehow purchased thirty-seven claw hammers. Sleepwalker The fourth time it happens, I wake up standing on the bathroom vanity, unscrewing the last light bulb from the fixture and dropping it into a pillowcase already full of light bulbs. I'm wearing nothing but my panties, the nested layers of cotton holding the pronged end of the hammer shoved down the front stiff before me, the smooth metal of the head parting my inner lips. I stroke the handle rocking the varnished wood against my swollen clit, hungry and over-sated at the same time. I climb off the counter and hoist my pillowcase in one fist, filling the other with a second case, also stuffed with light bulbs, just outside the bathroom door. It is Saturday, and late afternoon by the light coming in the windows. Alan could be walking home from the train station now, for all I know. I swing one of the cases as hard as I can against the wall. It's easy to lose sight of myself in the experience of smashing all the light bulbs in the house. The rhythm of each arm swinging its shrinking case, the arc of the bags of glass and metal shards, the WHUMP-tinkle of each hit against the walls, the floor, the bannister - the sensuality of each perfectly-fitted piece leaves no room for me to wonder why I have unscrewed every bulb in the house to break. I just have. I just do. I rain the spidery remains down the stairs from the second floor balcony where I first woke up from walking. My steps crunch as I swagger down, impossible not to with the handle of the hammer slapping against my bare belly like a truly impressive erection. The friction breaks me out in gooseflesh all over and I claw the bannister the last few steps, knees shaking, breath shallow from orgasm. I can't maintain and end up kneeling on the floor, jerking the hot metal head of the hammer inside myself to build from one orgasm to the next, seeing their borders etched as clear and bright as my bleeding footprints on the hardwood. I can hear Alan on the front steps. He's checking the mailbox. With a groan, I pull the hammer from my panties and swing with all the strength in my shaky arm. I bury the claw end in the wood of the door. Alan rings the bell to let me know he's home before he digs into his pocket for his key. So polite. Which of us will open the door? Sleepwalker Jan and Matt had a good friend, Bob, who had an odd condition. He was a sleepwalker, which is not all that unusual. However, Bob's condition was so severe that he could appear to be awake and alert when he was actually asleep. The only way to tell if he was asleep was to talk to him. If Bob were asleep, he would not respond. When Bob came to visit Jan and Matt, he confided in his good friends that his doctor had told him that it was very dangerous to awaken him when he was sleepwalking. "If you find me sleepwalking," he implored, "please don't wake me up." "Whatever you are doing at the time, just keep at it as if there is nothing wrong." Assuming that the worst that could happen was Bob wondering around the house at night, Jan and Matt promised Bob that they would not wake him if they found him sleepwalking. Nothing happened for the first couple of nights, and Jan and Matt forgot about Bob's condition. On the third night, Jan and Matt felt comfortable enough to make love in their bedroom while Bob was asleep. Before long, they were naked with Jan on her back and Matt busily licking her wet pussy. As Matt ran his tongue over Jan's clit, the bedroom door creaked open. Startled, Matt and Jan turned to look. There stood Bob in the doorway, completely naked, looking right at them. Matt said sharply, "Bob, what the hell . . .," but Jan quickly stopped him. "He's asleep," she said quietly. "Remember, what the doctor told him. We can't wake him, under any circumstances." Matt immediately calmed down, now concerned for his friend. "Right, we are supposed to just keep doing whatever we are doing." Jan stifled a laugh, thinking about exactly what is was they had been doing when Bob walked in. "Well," she whispered, "it's not like he's really seeing us." With that, Matt plunged his face back in Jan's pussy. Jan closed her eyes, excited by the fact that Bob was in the room, even if he really wasn't aware of what was going on. Jan was imagining just what might have happened if Bob had been awake, when suddenly she felt something pressed up against her face. She opened her eyes to see that it was Bob's hard cock. Soon, Bob had his hand on her head and was guiding her mouth towards his erection. Jan couldn't believe it, but did not want to wake poor Bob. Instead, she did what she thought she had to do and opened her mouth, allowing Bob's cock to slide into her mouth. Matt had his eyes closed as he continued to lap his wife's pussy and was unaware of this development. Jan closed her mouth around Bob's cock and began sucking it. Bob was silent, but his hips moved a little to match the motion of Jan's mouth. In seconds, she felt Bob grow even harder. The combination of Bob's cock in her mouth and Matt's tongue on her pussy was overwhelming and she began cumming. Just at that moment, Bob's cock exploded in her mouth, his cum shooting down her throat. The surprise, made her open her mouth. Bob's still semi-erect cock popped out, spraying cum on her face and breasts. Hearing the commotion, Matt chose that moment to look up. He was stunned to see Jan with cum dripping from her face and breasts. "What the fuck?" he mouthed. Jan just looked at him as if to say, "What else was I supposed to do?" The couple looked at Bob, who had taken a step backwards. Amazingly, he was already almost erect again. Jan said, "we need to keep doing what we were doing, or we might wake him." Matt, surprised at finding himself quite excited by seeing his wife covered in his good friend's cum, didn't argue. Matt lay on his back and pulled Jan on top of him. He positioned his hard cock on the moist lips of her pussy. Jan slid down on it and began riding him slowly. Matt looked up at Jan, her face and breasts still dripping Bob's cum. He reached up and began rubbing her breasts and squeezing her nipples, using Bob's cum like a lotion. Jan began moan, almost forgetting about Bob being in the room. Matt closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of his wife riding his cock. Suddenly, Jan felt Bob behind her, his hard cock touching her thigh. Then Matt felt something pushing against his cock. At first he was perplexed. Then he realized that Bob was pushing his cock into Jan's pussy where it rubbed against his own. Jan let out a moan, as two cocks filled her tight wet pussy. She could not believe she was riding was riding both of them. The more this continued, the more excited Jan and Matt became. It wasn't long before Jan and Matt were both cumming again, quickly followed by Bob. For a few minutes, all three of them were motionless. Then Bob suddenly withdrew and stood by the bed again. Matt used the opportunity to withdraw himself and sit up, his legs having fallen asleep. Matt looked at Jan as cum dripped from her pussy and down her thighs. The sight started arousing him. He then looked at Bob, who stood a couple feet from the bed with nearly a full erection. Jan saw this too. "Oh, my God," Jan whispered to Matt, "he's hard again." "Should we wake him now?" he whispered back. "No, we can't risk it," Jan replied. In truth, neither one wanted this to stop anytime soon. "You're right, I'm sure," replied Matt. "What next?" Jan just looked at Matt and pushed him down onto his back. Matt decided just to go with it, as Jan climbed on top of him in a 69 position, lowering her cum-soaked pussy to Matt's face. Before he realized fully what was happening, Matt was pinned to the bed by Jan. Matt felt he had no choice at this point and began licking Jan clean of both Bob's and his own cum. Jan moaned as she closed her mouth around Matt's cock, causing Matt to moan in turn. Lost in what they were doing, Jan and Matt almost forgot about sleepwalking Bob. However, that was not to last. Matt suddenly became aware of Bob standing nearby. Looking up, he saw Bob's erect cock, closing in on Jan's pussy. "Now what?" he thought, as Bob slipped his cock into Jan. In this position, Bob's cock was essentially in Matt face. Nonetheless, he didn't want to risk waking Bob, so he continued to lick Jan's pussy as Bob fucked her. Jan moaned loudly. Bob was slamming hard into Jan by this point, and his balls slapped Matt's face with each stroke. Then, unbelievably, Bob came again. As before, he withdrew and stepped away from the bed. Bob's cum dripped from Jan's pussy as she ground it into Matt's face, leaving him no escape. After hanging on the edge for what seemed like forever, Jan let out a horse, "I'm cumming," pushing so hard into Matt's face that he could barely breathe. When Jan was finally satisfied, she let Matt back up. Matt's head was spinning, but for some reason, he was getting aroused again. Still a little annoyed at how hard Jan had ground her pussy into his face, he thought, "This will teach you." Reaching into the nightstand he pulled out some lubricant and began rubbing it on his cock. Pulling Jan over on her side with her knees up, he began rubbing his hard lubricated cock on her little anus. Jan reached down to rub her pussy, as Matt pushed his cock into her ass. It had been a while since they had done this, and pretty soon Matt was lost in how good it felt to be fucking his wife's tight ass. Jan too was caught up in the moment, rubbing her pussy hard and fast. Suddenly, Matt felt something touching his own anus. Before he could even consider what it might be, it began to slide inside him. It was something hard and lubricated. Confused, Matt turned to look over his shoulder. It was then that he felt a pair of vise-like hands on his hips. Realization was instantaneous - it was Bob trying to fuck him while he fucked his wife. Jan looked up at that moment and quickly understood what was happening. "Matt, don't say anything," she pleaded, "just go with it." "We can't wake him. He probably thinks he is at home fucking his girlfriend." By now, Bob's cock was buried halfway into Matt's ass. As a result, Matt was in a little pain but also too excited to stop Bob. Besides, he told himself, he didn't want to risk what might happen if he woke Bob. In any case, there was no way he could move given Bob's intense grip. Bob began pushing further into Matt's virgin anus and was soon far inside him. Matt moaned, despite himself. Then, Bob was thrusting into him, forcing Matt's own cock deeper into Jan's ass. All this was a bit overwhelming for Matt, fucking his wife in the ass as his friend fucked him. Before long all three of them were cumming hard. As quickly as it started, it was over. Bob simply stood up and returned to his room. Jan and Matt looked at each other and shook their heads. It was a night neither one would ever forget. "Too bad Bob won't remember any of this," they thought. Back in his room, Bob took a small notebook from his bag. Opening it up, he looked at the list he had compiled. Scrolling down, he smiled and put a check next to "Jan and Matt." Sleepwalker I made Emily cum with my lips and tongue. Her hands clasped mine when she came. It was sweet! As she lay catching her breath, I kissed and licked my way back up to her mouth. When my lips, covered with her juices, reached her, Emily practically attacked my mouth! "Oh, Kat!" she breathed into my ear. "That felt so good!" I smiled and said, "I'm glad you liked it. I'd be happy to do that whenever you like!" Emily laughed and hugged me. "Oh, Kat - I love you so much!" "I love you, too, Em" I said. "And I have something I'd like to ask..." Emily looked at me, dreamy and pleased. "What? I'd do anything you want." I felt a shiver of pleasure at that. "I want to watch you, Em," I said. "I want to watch you pleasure yourself while I pleasure myself. I want to watch you while you watch me. I've wanted this for a long time!" Emily made a wry face. "Really? You want to see me - play with myself?" I nodded and kissed her. I pressed my pussy against hers, letting her feel me desire. "Mm-hmm... I've wanted this for a long time. I've gotten off dreaming about it. Now, I want it for real. Do it, Emily. Cum for me!" Emily didn't reply, at first. But shortly, her pussy began to grind into mine in reply, and her nipples hardened. "Oh, hell, Kat!" she said at last. "You make me so fucking hot and wet! How can I not?" I smiled and felt a new surge of desire flow into my pussy as Emily slid out from under me and moved to the head of my bed. She puffed up some pillows and opened her legs, exposing her wonderful, pink slit. "Like this?" she asked coyly, and slowly let one hand drift down to her pussy. She rubbed it with her fingers, pressing down on the clit. I nodded and moved to the corner of my bed. I pushed up the quilt to give me something to lay back against, and parted my legs so she could see me. Our ankles crossed, adding a small charge that seemed to flow back and forth bewteen us - contact of skin on skin - as I opened my pussy with my left hand, and slid my fingers from my right into my slit. "Mm-hmm... like this," I said. Emily's eyes drank me in. She slipped two fingers into her pussy, and let her left hand play over her breasts. "Just do what feels good," I said softly. "I want to see what feels good to you. And show you what feels good to me!" Emily nodded and half-closed her eyes as she split her focus between watching me play with myself and pleasuring herself. I felt an orgasm building quickly. My fingers began to play more rapidly as the orgasm built. Emily seemed to respond, her excitment growing, too. Soon, I felt that wonderful, incredible first pulse, and drove my fingers deep inside my pussy. I pressed hard as my orgasm hit. I lost awareness of Emily for a second, only aware of that first, intense pulse as it made my body contract. I moaned and tensed. Then, when I could hold it no more, I relaxed, and the other waves followed, rolling over me. Emily came, too, while my orgasms were fading. Seeing her climax seemed to renew the energy in me, and another, smaller orgasm rippled through me. "Oh!" I cried. Emily lay basking. Her pussy looked so beautiful as she lay there. I scooted forward, swinging one leg over Emily's. "What are you doing?" Emily asked, curious. I smiled. "Just following what feels good," I answered as I moved my pussy close to hers. I held one of her legs and pressed my wet slit against hers. "I like doing this," I said. Emily seemed to enjoy the sensation, too, because she just opened her legs a little more and met my pressure with her own. I moved my hips, sliding my pussy over Emily's. The feel of a girl's pussy sliding over your own is indescribable, and something one simply has to experience for themselves. Some girls don't really get off on it; others do. I'm one who does. And, so it turns out, is Emily! We tribbed for a while, the pressure of our pussies gradually building as our climax neared. Before long, we were bouncing our pussies together, practically fucking each other with our clits as our pussies met with increasing need. "Oohhh!" I cried, grasping Emily's leg tight as I came. Emily held her pussy hard on mine as I came. She hadn't quite cum, yet. But I was more than willing to resume and bounce my pussy on hers until she did. "Ahhh my god!" she cried and lay back, gasping. "Fuck, Kat," she wheezed after she came. "That was intense!" I crawled up and cuddled with her. "I know. I'm glad you liked it. I love feeling your pussy on mine!" Emily kissed me, and I kissed her back. We lay together for a while, just enjoying the closeness and intimacy. The smell of girl sex was everywhere, like a sweet, rich perfume. "Kat?" Emily asked. "Yeah?" "Does this mean I'm gay?" I laughed softly. "No, not necessarily," I answered her. "Unless you liked it so much, you never want to have a dick again." Emily paused, cuddling closer. "I'm not sure," she said at last. "I mean, maybe it's just because this is so new - and so wonderful with you. But, I swear, part of me does feel like I'd never miss having a cock in me if I can have more of that again!" I laughed and nuzzled at her neck. "I'm glad you liked it," I said. "And to be honest, when I first discovered that I really liked girls, too, I felt the same way. I was afraid it meant I was gay, and what that all might mean with my parents and all. But, after a while, I found that I did like having a dick in me as well. It's just different. Sometimes you like peaches, and sometimes you like - bananas." Emily giggled. "And you like bananas?" she asked. I pinched her ass. "And cherries," I said. "But, yeah, I like to give head - to guys and girls. I love the taste of a woman. But there is something about making a guy cum that gets me off, too. I guess I just like to give pleasure." Emily caressed my breasts as she said, "Oh, you certainly do that! I've never had an orgasm like I did with you. All of them!" She laughed. I was glad. Emily still sleepwalks on occassion. And when she does, I have found that I can get her to explore things she isn't quite comfortable with while she is awake - like anal (wink, wink). Then, soon after, Emily is "curious to try something new" in our loveplay. And there is something about having that kind of control over another sexually that is a bit of a high. But nothing beats having Emily awake and full of lust, playing with herself for my pleasure, and going down on me or letting me go down on her. Nothing beats seeing the sparkle of desire in your lover's eye, knowing they are seeing it in your own.