Anya finally found a man up for fulfilling her ultimate fantasy.
I love to sleep. And I sleep a lot. Friends say they’ve never met anyone with such a talent for it. I’ve fallen asleep during horror films in cinemas; against throbbing, sweaty walls in the corners of nightclubs; on cold doorsteps (when locked out); even mid-foreplay. Some people think I’m missing out, but they don’t know how great my dreams are. Or that I can come while unconscious.
It’s unsurprising, then, that the idea of sex while asleep has always appealed to me. Partly it’s just practical – it increases my chances of getting a shag by a good fifty percent if I don’t have to be awake for it. And partly it’s the idea of being in a state that’s so vulnerable and defenceless. Seemingly inanimate, and therefore incapable of pleasure or pain, resistance or choice. A living sex doll. I don’t know why that’s so arousing. I just know that for me there’s an escape that comes with helplessness and a freedom that comes with restraint; and there’s not one thing I can do about it. Except enjoy it, obviously.
Until recently I never found anyone willing to try this fantasy out with me, though. I think the blokes I asked were too scared I’d change my mind mid-way and call the police. Plus, it takes a special kind of man to really get off on the idea of a totally helpless partner. It turned out that man was Christian.
I’d been seeing him a few months when he came in one day and found me dozing on the sofa, fresh from the shower, wearing only a towel. He woke me with a kiss and a hand between my legs, then dragged me onto the floor and fucked me there. Afterwards he told me I was lucky he hadn’t just jumped right in without waking me up. I didn’t even reply; just looked at him. I think a small moan might have escaped my lips. He looked back, saw the effect his comment had had on me, and smiled a rather evil smile.
“Well well…” he said softly. “That’d work for you, would it?” I just nodded my head.
For weeks I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Wondering when he’d do it. I knew from experience that Christian didn’t forget conversations like this; the boy’s mind was always working when it came to fucking. I’d fall asleep wet and wake even wetter, sometimes having dreamt that he was inside me. But he waited, and by doing so he got me to the point where my body was always ready for him and my mind always running on him, whether sleeping or waking.
The night he did it, he must have been very gentle, to start with. I remember becoming gradually aware that another body was pressing on mine, and then that my legs were spread wide apart and then there was the pressure of his groin on my clit and his cock planted deep inside me, thrusting with slow strokes. My arms were pinned above my head. I could feel how slippery I was. I opened my eyes and looked into his. He stared back at me seriously, as though checking my reaction. He had that look of mixed inquisitiveness, awe and arousal he’d always get when trying something new on me.
“H – hello,” I gasped, for want of anything better to say. Satisfied, he crushed his mouth onto mine and sped up the pace until my whole body was jerking and the bedhead rang rhythmically against the walls. It took just minutes for us both to come, so easily and loudly I imagine we woke the neighbours several doors down. Afterwards – call it chemistry – I was ready to marry the man. He owned me. Now he does it often and they’re the easiest orgasms I’ve ever had – even easier than the ones I have while I’m dreaming. Laziness pays off, basically.
