This was a dream, I knew it, but somehow I felt the pressure in all of the right spots of reality. Moments lapsed where I was awake, yet not fully conscience, still feeling the heat penetrating to my core, although my hands were idle. I writhed for a bit before falling asleep once more. This cycle continued, I was almost there, almost, but not able to feel that cut, that sting of the breaking point I needed so badly.
Once again I teeter between the reality and a flurried fantasy. I was pleasuring my self in my dream, hard, relentless in taking what was mine. Frantically, self arousing, I thrust my pelvis, muscles tightening, almost to releasing. Stronger, fiercer, faster I ravage and pull at hardened nipples. Quickly I move against the resistance, closer to becoming undone and dropped from this feeling of suspended ecstasy, to breathe normally again.
I would not climax in my dream, instead, I would awaken fully to long for it. My mind had been my lover, skilled, focusing expertly on the task at hand. My desires needed fulfilling, erotic dreams leaving me to my own devices for the time being. A few breaths later, a stifled moan, another moment lapses, I repeat, biting my lip full on in the rapture, tasting blood, smiling, I fall back into deep sleep.
My hand is still hot, fingers resting motionless, yet in position, hungry to serve with the slightest move, awakening me, incredibly aroused once again, in the morning air.