Chocolate

I woke up with Thoth's hands stroking along my side, over and over, from my thigh to my shoulder, curling around my breast and then down my belly to brush across my pubic mound.

It was slow and smooth and gentle, and he was mostly asleep.

He's a sleepwalker; the line between realstate and dreamstate is frequently blurred. Lately there's been a theme - he dreams that the woman beside him is a website, or a piece of complicated luggage, and he fiddles with her body accordingly. All while mostly asleep. During our holiday travels he spent half the night feeling up our friend Hestia, thinking she was a Java program.

We'd had sex before falling asleep, nothing exotic. We have fabulous sex, generally, without much effort... and also without encore, usually. Men in their 30s aren't much with the repeated orgasms, as far as I've noticed.

So I was quite surprised to find him fondling me, leaning in to sniff at my shoulder, my hair, his hands running over and over me like water. I was pretty much half-asleep myself, so I was totally passive under his touch. He ran his open palms over my nipples, like I do when I touch them myself, and they hardened. He cupped my mound, pressing the heel of his hand lightly against my clit, and I sighed with sleepy pleasure. His hands never stopped moving on my skin, and he buried his face in my neck and hair and breathed in deeply.

I drifted in and out of consciousness repeatedly as he touched me, full of a slow sensual heat like spicy honey, too sleepy to react strongly.

I came to a bit more when he stopped touching me and realized that he was masturbating. This woke me up enough to turn over and cup my hand under his balls, whispering I'm sorry... I fell back asleep. He wrapped an arm around me and put his face between my breasts, moaning quietly and rubbing the head of his cock against me as he stroked it. I rubbed my lips against the top of his head and curled against him, pressing my fingers against his prostate from the outside through his perineum. His legs tensed, relaxed, tensed, relaxed, and then he came in a series of shudders and gasps, the come trapped between our bodies.

We stayed there, his head on my chest and our arms around each other, until he started to snore. I fumbled around with my free arm until I located one of the sex towels we keep by the bed, sponged him off, and passed back out.

In the morning he told me that he'd been dreaming that I was made of dark chocolate.

I'm really okay with that.