We call them midnight friskies, which really sounds like a sexy breakfast cereal. Which is appropriate, I suppose, since it’s also a late night snack of choice…
I’m not sure who usually initiates it. Probably me. But it begins with both of us asleep and either snuggled together or otherwise touching. I assume one of us has a sexy dream sequence and our bodies respond, and that’s how it starts, but since we’re both asleep when it begins, the true origins remain shrouded in mystery.
We’re about ten percent awake. We caress, stroke, and rub. Usually just one of us at first. Eventually the initiator gets aroused enough to wake a little more and the sexual touch intensifies. Then the other person begins to respond. If I’m rubbing her thighs or butt, she rolls her hips, pressing them into me. If she’s stroking my hips, I’m thrusting against her hands. And the awareness grows.
We’re about a quarter awake. Just enough to make noise: sighs and moans of pleasure escape our lips regularly. Perhaps the oral aspect of this sound kicks something primordial in, and we begin kissing. Not each other’s lips, mind you. That would require far more mutual awareness and general coordination than we have available at this point. I’m kissing her back or she’s kissing my chest or basically one or both of us are kissing whatever’s immediately available. Any unoccupied mouth continues making that breathy music. And the awareness goes.
We’re about half awake. We’re a tangle of grinding limbs. Mindless caresses shift toward deliberate erogenous zones. We’re slow dancing to a song only perceptible by the rhythm of our sounds of pleasure. She’s grinding herself against me and I her, and we’ve synchronized our motions. Our arousal skyrockets with the direct stimulation, and our kisses become more breathy. Sometimes more teethy. And the awareness grows.
I imagine we look ridiculous, but we feel foggily ecstatic, making otherworldly love at 2:47am.
We’re about two thirds awake. We’re still substantially in a dream state, but we’re cognizant enough to resituate so we can do the deed. Sometimes I’m on top, and sometimes she is. Other times we’re spooning side by side. But we’re always closely and clumsily pressed together. I imagine we look ridiculous, but we feel foggily ecstatic, making otherworldly love at 2:47am. Then one or both of us comes to a climax. And the awareness grows.
We clean up and groggily return to bed to cuddle, potentially never fully waking. In the morning, one of us may have forgotten all about it. But the other could remember an overtly realistic erotic dream and asks, “Midnight friskies?”
Then, it clicks, like a complex lock with a perfect key. The other smiles. “Yes, I believe so.”
We like midnight friskies.
Originally posted 2015-07-06 08:00:39.