An Insomnia Cure?

Sleep either slams into me, taking me where I stand so I cannot find consciousness until morning – or sleep is a slow lover, satiating me enough to get a few hours of sleep before I wake up wanting more but not finding it.

Insomnia is my new love, or so it feels.

Sometimes, I decide that I will take matters in my own hand – a nice build up to a good orgasm to put me to sleep.  And I’m known to employ erotic story sites to help – exploring everything from kink to anal to reluctant to control – until I find something that gives me what I need mentally to build me to that orgasm.

What I am finding some nights as of late, no matter what I read – I go to him in my semi-conscious, aroused state.

I’m standing in his bedroom, naked before him.  His hand are in my hair – his teeth against my neck.  I’m thankful for his other arm around me as I melt into him from the arousal those two things immediately trigger with him.

I hear him ordering me to my knees.  “Make me nice and hard” he commands as I take his cock into my mouth and bring him to a fully erect state.  Feeling his hands in my hair, I look up with my eye – mouth full of his cock – and can hear his breathy comment about how beautiful I look just like that – right there, on my knees with his cock in my mouth.  That statement each time would crank up my arousal – and it was no different reliving it in my head.

My fingers on my clit go a bit faster as I know what will happen next.  He will pull me to standing – turn me towards his bed – grab a pillow (not for my hips but to muffle my screams) – and push me over the bed.  “Stay there” he says as he turns to go to his nightstand – for condoms – and I always know to his toy bag for his studded leather paddle.  I push my ass further back – the anticipation making me hotter and hornier than I was at the start.

I hear the condom roll onto his cock.  He wonders aloud if he should be nice today and use lube.  Truth be told, I told fucking care – I just need him to take me.

With his foot, he nudges my feet apart “that’s my good girl” he says under his breath. I feel his cock at my anus – I know what’s next – I push my face into the pillow, telling myself to breath, telling myself to take it – then he shoves his magnificent cock into my ass in one thrust.  And I scream into the pillow.

No lube, outside of my own, this time.

He pauses on his own, but I beg him to give me a minute none the less.  He give me half of one before he starts to move inside me.  Each thrust like the first – hard, unyielding, and controlling.  I feel myself relax a bit – the pain (the good pain) subsiding.  I start to moan.

“Does my baby girl like Daddy’s cock in her ass?”

I can barely eek out “yes, Daddy” as his assault continues…..or just starts.

I can feel my fingers getting slicker on my clit as my juices start flowing – my arousal over this memory grows.

He starts spanking my ass with his hands – hard, firm, and without warm up.  My cries are even more – not from the pain but from the combined pleasures I am feeling.  Even as I am dreaming this, I know that the night before he had likely beat me with his canes, his paddle, and whatever else he chose.  I know that this act is more intense because of it.  He shoves his cock as deep into my ass as he can, pauses, and starts lightly letting the studded side of his paddle against my red ass.  I know what is next….

WHACK, WHACK, WHACK

I cried out, I moved on his cock, and he moaned.

“I love it when you little asshole tightens around my cock when I do that,” he comments before continuing for a few more strikes. Then he drops the paddle next to me and resumes fucking me hard.

I feel my nipples harden as I know he will, in my memory, go to my nipples next – squeezing them – tugging them hard – pulling them to the point where tears well up in my eyes and the pillow barely muffles my cries. I know I will fight. I know that will make him latch onto them harder with his iron fingers.  And I know he will chuckle when I stop and tell me I’m a good girl for taking it.

The continued images whirl through my brain as I feel my orgasm coming – I feel my body arching into it.  I feel his fingers and hand on my body – I hear words in my head, calling me his baby and his good girl – and I feel his cock taking my ass hard – and I cum, silently but intensely.

As I lay there in the aftermath – catching my breath, feeling the last of the orgasism roll over my body, I realize there are tears in my eyes.

And I think, “fuck.  Why did my brain have to replace the words I was reading with this memory?”

I would wonder why the memory was so strong that it could force its way into my brain at that moment but I know why.  Intense, intimate feelings during a sexual act are strong – they don’t fade, they don’t go away. You can’t push them away.  No matter how much you want them to.

It’s funny (in a sad clown sort of way) but I rarely remember all of the details like I do with the times I’ve had with him.  I think it was the intensity of our overall relationship that burned them into my mind – it was the intensity of our intimacy.

Or it’s what I would like to believe.

Regardless, it’s how I feel, and I fall back to sleep – satiated.  And as I fell back to sleep, all I can feel is the way I did after he would fuck me like that – I would be wrapped in his arms and his body, warm under a blanket, my head on his shoulder, feeling his kisses on my face  – and relaxed and ready to go back to sleep.

Some feelings remain unchanged.

For better or for worse….

What do you think?