I was dreaming. I was floating through oceans of always and clouds of never. As in never-ending. I was dreaming about a bunch of gray pictures. The world was made of gray pictures and in them were hearts, images of punctured hearts. My heart. My heart, punctured so many times. But it was all right. The world was cold, so they would survive to be stitched back together. Good for another round of torment by means of the male gender.
And in an instant it was all gone. Shot to black, and my eyelids rose nonchalantly as I was shaken to my wake.
“Jay.” Elliot called to me softly to reel me from my sleep.
“Hmm?” I replied, drowsy as I had been before I met with my dreams. “What time is it?”
“Like nine…” Elliot whispered, seating himself next to me on his imitation-suede couch, what a hand-me-down.
“Oh.” I mumbled wearily, not actually wanting to meet the light in the room quite yet.
“Wanna sleep here?” Elliot asked.
“I’m working tomorrow.” I said, finally drawing myself to full wake due to the reality of the question. After a moment more of irregular breathing and quick examination of the room I sighed. “If you take me to work tomorrow.”
I rolled over on my side now, getting back into a sleeping position since I had now come to terms with my desire to be dormant.
“Okay well I’m gonna get you a blanket or something.” He said, trekking into the back room, which belonged to his roommate, Chuggs, but also doubled as a large storage closet.
“Nooo.” I whined, eyes shut. “I wanna sleep with you.”
“Then get up.” He called from the back room.
I blinked defiantly since, obviously, I was not physically inclined to getting up at that moment. I shut my eyes once again, remaining silent for a moment. “No.” I said lazily.
“No?” He called once again from the backroom as if my answer was unbelievable.
“Carry me.” I whimpered. He said nothing. “Carry me, Elliot!” I whined again.
He finally stomped back into the living room, glaring at my dozing form on his couch. He shook his head. I could not see him but I knew exactly what his designated movements consisted of. He would stand there, placing all of his weight on one leg and shaking his head several times. He would raise a brow, lower it, and then sigh defeatedly.
“Come on, spoiled girl.” He grunted as he bent over to capture my body in his broad, masculine arms. I opened one eye as soon as I was sure we were moving. He turned himself sideways to fit into his bedroom door then kicked it shut with only his foot as he held me in his arms. He would then strategically drop me onto his crisp, cerulean blanket.
Elliot had quite an acquired taste. Everything he owned was the pinnacle of maturity. His comforter was so soft. It felt like it was new even though I’m sure it isn’t since I’ve slept there before. It smelled like him.
He crossed over and sat on the other side of the bed, placing both of his legs on top and turning to me. He smiled, glanced down at my pursed lips and pressed his to mine. He kissed my deeply but briefly and I could taste the alcohol on his lips. We’d been drinking before I fell asleep, caressing his sofa.
I will admit, his touches did arouse me seamlessly as they normally did. I adored them but I was tired. I’m not quite the type to have sex when I’m only half conscious. As he buried his face into my neck, he reached behind his bed for the light switch and summoned darkness to devour the room. He went to work, needless to say. His hand shot down into my jeans, unbuttoning them with ease and working on my underwear. The other remained at his primary target, which is every man’s primary target; breasts of course.
I could only hear the sound of my own breathing and him kissing the skin of my neck. He sat up after only a few minutes, his hair was already out of order. He scratched his head for a highly brief moment then bent over, pulling up the cropped white shirt I wore and kissing my naval. His movements only went south from there; he seemed oddly unconcerned with himself this night. Both of his hands, like thieves, latched on to opposite sides of my Aeropastale panties. With one tug I pressed my legs closed as tightly as I could. I could hear his arrogant chuckle, as if I feared his advances.
“No.” I groaned in the high-pitched voice I make when I’m only half awake.
“Why?” He whispered as if someone could hear us. We were alone in his apartment.
“I’m tired.” I said defiantly. I didn’t need an explanation.
“Please, Baby?” he whispered once again redundantly.
I simply rolled over to ignore him, pretending I had fallen asleep in that short secondary interlude between arguments. I could feel the pressure of his disappointed eyes on my closed eyes. I could almost hear his contemplation. Whether or not he should wake me up for sex. After a minute I knew he had decided. He groaned inwardly, lying down next to me with the utmost gentleness.
I smiled inside, feeling victorious. And I felt victorious for several minutes until I really did fall asleep. I fell to the black depths of my abused little mind, snoozing away with my trophies of male-defeat.
I saw nothing but this until the blissful scene of off white sheets cradled my thoughts. I lay in a bed, the most plush and comfortable bed built for the angels. The sheets were white, everything in the room was plush and white and beautiful. Stray pearls and feathers garnished the floor, which was also white, and the room was a filled with light. I lay naked actually, my tan skin contrasts satanically with the smoothness of the hue in the room. The bed itself was on some type of platform, one with round stairs but only two. Easy to access.
From absolutely nowhere I began playing with myself. I touched every inch of skin that made up my body. My cold fingertips drew excitement into my nipples as they perked curiously. My legs seemed to spread on their own. I was not the least bit embarrassed when I dampened those admirable sheets. I even moaned out loud, hearing myself and becoming even more aroused by the sounds I made. My fingers were professional in this act; they spared no liberty with my insides. In and out in the same rhythm. I was only bothered with how slow and monotonous they were. No matter how much harder I tried, they never seemed to get faster and the area they could reach was modest at best.
I was yearning for the touch of another. I wanted to encounter than feeling I only knew in the real world, that cold feeling in my feet when I’ve reached the peak of ecstasy and I’m falling back into my zone of security, challenging myself to get higher next time.
I continued desperately, shutting my eyes as tightly as I could in order to feel it as much as possible. Broken, I whispered, “Fuck me…” without thinking. As I unclenched my eyes I saw two forms had joined me on the bed. Both men, their skin was the essence of ivory and their bodies were sculpted beyond perfection. One appeared to be more muscular however but they both fondled in their hands quite large, pulsing penises.
I didn’t have to think at that moment. Instinct took over and I made my legs wide so that one of them – or both of them if the absurdity of the dream permitted – enter me and fill the damp space.
I was upset by that moment because I could tell something spectacular was about to happen. But heaven permitted that I would open my eyes. My skin burned and my heart pounded. Elliot was asleep next to me and moisture lingered persistently between my legs. I rolled over to stare at him and glance at the clock simultaneously. It was 2am.
Was it selfish to wake him up at this time of night just for sex? It had to be, especially because I had rejected him earlier. I was unsure of what to do necessarily so I lay there, staring at the ceiling and fondling myself through my wet panties. I ran my fingers back and forth, sighing and moaning modestly. I was inadvertently kicking the sheets back and forth with my feet as they turned about under the blanket.
“Oh God, I want to cum.” I whispered to myself as I worked with what I had. I finally became frustrated with my underwear standing between self-achieved ecstasy and me. I pulled them off quickly and violently and spread my legs wider.
At that moment Elliot exhaled deeply. His reclined body was facing mine and his hand, without warning replaced my own. His was a bit more persistent. While he appeared to still be asleep he was fingering me – and doing a good job of it. I was confused but I wouldn’t want to question a good thing. I just helped him out and moved my hips in rhythm to his fingers as I began to press my palm against the zipper of his Hollister jeans. A bulge.
I was unsure still. He may have been sleep fingering. Perhaps that was a new disease I’d never heard of. No other part of him was moving, just his fingers. Second following my confusion he said quite clearly, “Unzip my pants.” He sounded so alert as if he’d been awake the entire time. I didn’t think about it. I just did as he said, pulling his member through the opening and stroking it as caringly as he had done to me.
His eyes were still shut but I could see, even in the dim light his lips part out the corner of my eye. Subtle moans sounded and he continued his ministrations. “I want you.” I said audibly between moans, resulting in another uncultured moan from him.
With no other words being said he pulled his fingers away from me, being sure to stick them in his mouth to lick them clean. He positioned himself on top of me with little effort as my legs were already spread. His hand navigated his penis as it pressed against me. I could feel the warm droplets of his raw excitement running down its length as he teased the head against my flesh. He pressed it in finally and I began to convulse. For whatever reason, I wasn’t much for remaining that night.
“Oh God.” I cried out, eyes clenched shut as the feeling exploded inside my heart. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum already.” I blurted out without any previous thought to who in his building would hear it.
“That dick feels good, doesn’t it?” He whispered cruelly. He got like this quite often when we were in this position. He spared no naughty word. “Am I gonna have to fuck you extra hard to make you cum again?”
I made no effort to respond but rather let him continue working. He began some pace of thrusting. I couldn’t feel it right away; I was a bit numb from coming down so hard. I could tell my silence disturbed him as he began to grunt in frustration.
“Nothing to say?” He murmured, brows furrowed. I didn’t respond.
He went harder and deeper but faster as well. My breath caught something imaginary in my throat and I began to feel his actions. My head was actually pumping against the headboard over and over and the headboard was knocking against the wall obnoxiously. I was sure anyone who wasn’t deaf could hear him. But he had something to prove. At this moment I was sure he didn’t care who heard.
My nails dug into his clothed back so I reached under so they would press into his skin. I shouted as loud as my head knocked against the wall. It hurt but in the most pleasant manner. I was almost sure I was bleeding down there. But I didn’t care.
He would drive me to the highest point of orgasm that I’d ever seen. I had nothing to do but than him by the end as I was literally in tears against his chest. The feeling of him inside me overwhelmed every one of my senses and I began to live him. I was breathing him. He became everything to me and now he is everything to me. He occupies my soul. His sex occupies my soul.