The Spirituality of Sleep

I lie in bed semi-clad. I am wearing a small, black camisole that barely covers my most intimate parts; the edge of the silky material is wafting around my inner thigh, exciting me, enticing me to think very sexual thoughts.
I lay my hand on the material that covers my pubic hair. I don’t stroke it; I just place my hand there. There’s warmth within in doing this.
I straddle my legs slightly, giving room for a breath of air to seep between my legs. It is getting a little moist down there as the tension rises beneath my hand and I can feel anticipation growing. Mere anticipation, though there is nothing ‘mere’ about either the anticipation or the expectation of what I am about to receive.

A total state of relaxation overwhelms me. I am lying on my back. My hand is motionless. My mind is calm. Come to think of it, I don’t actually need to anticipate. It’s going to happen but I like to anticipate nonetheless.

He walks to the side of the bed, glancing towards me and smiling. There’s no smirk. There’s no urgent hunger in his dark eyes. Just a smile. There’s nothing knowing about it. There’s nothing suggestive. It’s just contentment.

He stands by the bed and slips out of his pants.
My clitoris responds. How strange that after all of this time, I still have an erection of my own at the sight of his cock, whether it is aroused or not. Just as he stands there for a split second, I instinctively need to move my legs a little further apart as I feast my eyes on that cock that pleasures me so intensely.
I’m not in great need. I wouldn’t even say I am hungrily wanting his cock inside me at that point. I am simply enjoying him standing there, allowing me to just look.

He moves the duvet back and clambers into bed. He imitates my position and lies on his back, not yet touching me, not even feeling my arm next to his. There is space between us.

The television is off and the music has been dismissed. I still lie still, though my hand has moved to my side. I lie with my head on the pillow, conscious that his hand has moved over his pubes and he can now feel the mound of his cock and balls in his grasp.
He’s not wanking. He’s just placing his hand there and feeling the warmth within. Unbeknowingly, he imitates my precise actions from a few minutes beforehand.
There’s comfort in that too.

Nothing needs to be said. There’s a time for words and they will come. Later.

With our heads on the pillows and our arms by our side, we turn to one another and smile.
There’s no need to move. It’s a precious and stable moment. It just needs to be. We need to be.

Hands eventually reach out for one another. Neither of us are the first to move. It is done in tandem.
Once hands are clasped together, bodies follow and an embrace of warmth emerges.
I wrap my leg over his. There’s nothing overtly sexual in this, though he must be able to feel the moistness of my pussy on his knee.
I know he can feel it when we kiss, and he gently pushes his patella into my groin so that I can ride the hardness. He moves his knee around so that its undulating sides rub my crack, and he must surely now feel the specific warmth of my juices.

I maneuvre my hips around so that I can enjoy the full extent of his knee being swallowed in my pubic hairs.
Still there is smiling. Still there is a gentleness washing over us.

He slides his hand under my camisole and feels the fullness of my breasts. He squeezes them tight. First one, and then the other, and then together as he kisses me; a tender, calm kiss that opens up so that we can explore one another’s mouths with our tongues. It is all so gentle. And yet, it is more needy now. I am rocking strongly on his knee and it is only a matter of time before I need something else.

His cock is rising. It’s knocking against me, reminding me of its growth and readiness. I lie on my side, still kissing him and reach out for his balls. I trace my finger down his erection, past his balls and towards his anus. I rub hard at the wealth of erection that I can find there. He is arched and ready.
As I walk my fingers back to his helmet, I pull gradually at his foreskin to reveal a sticky delight of excitement at the tip of his cock. It needs to be licked but I don’t want to move from this position.
I am enjoying his eyes and his mouth too much, no matter how much I want to taste that stickiness in my mouth.

But he is so stiff and I am now so needy.
Foreplay is going to be whole play. It is going to be intermingled. I lay him flat and I guide and glide his cock towards a very large opening between my legs. I crouch above him feeling the power of his cock rubbing inside me. I ride him hard. I lean back and arch myself so that I can feel that stiffness within me. I feel his movement and I imagine the places, the skin, the erectness that he is touching inside me with his.

My mind takes over, and I am totally turned on by the completeness of this moment. With his cock still firmly embedded in my cunt, I lie on top of him, rubbing my clitoris against his pubes, moving my hips to feel the stimulation at every conceivable angle. I press hard and feel the orgasm coming. It’s a clitoral stimulation, a clitoral cum and it takes longer to arrive than a vaginal gush. I know it is coming and the anticipation of waiting for it to build is fucking brilliant. I want to hold onto the orgasm for as long as possible, and he adores me doing that. He knows I am in a state of utter bliss, and he selflessly holds himself in a position where I can receive the full glory of an ongoing orgasm.
In doing this, my mind has flowed right back to the bodily connection and I am aware once more how big his cock is inside me, how near it is to my cervix and I now need to ride rapidly.

He seems to have reached new depths within me. He’s not the only one fucking me right now. I’m fucking myself too with my mind and I know that he is doing exactly the same. The immediacy of my gush is astonishing. He giggles as it hurtles down his shaft, over his balls, out of my cunt and covers every conceivable and inconceivable part of the sheet. I feel it running down my left hip and he indicates that it has swept past his left hand.
It’s not over yet.

I climb off him and dive under the covers to lick away my juices from his dick. I maneuvre myself so that my pussy is over his right hip and I go down on him, strong and ferociously. I take his cock deep inside my mouth as far as his balls and I repeat this until I can feel more cum dribbling out of me.
He delights in my enthusiasm for fellatio and is further excited when he feels the incredible power of my mind working in tandem with my body as I gag on the size of his cock that makes both my eyes and my cunt water.

I flop onto the bed as he raises himself from it, and leans before me with his hands dancing towards my already drenched pussy, knowing that there is still more to come. I push his fingers inside me and he enthusiastically finger fucks me until another tirade of fuck juices spill out.

He then lays me down and watches himself pushing into my cunt. He sees his cock emerging and then being enveloped by my labia as he continues to fuck me in the most desirable manner.
He lies on top of me, as I lay on him before.

He reaches beneath my arse and places his hands on each cheek, firmly gripping as he pushes himself inside me further. He nuzzles his face into my neck as he stops and starts the final assault to his own orgasm.
I encourage him to cum. I can feel the proximity of his climax as he grabs my right cheek a little harder.
He groans into my hair as he thrusts his spunk into my awaiting cunt. I reciprocate almost immediately by climaxing onto his cock and shoving him out of me.

We lie down on the bed and I reach inside me to feel the softness of his sperm over my inner labia. I adore feeling his spunk inside me immediately after he has cum. There is something almost miraculous about that.
I love it.

We spoon together to singly and connectedly appreciate our bliss. The force and endurance of such passion is almost impossible to describe. It is intransigent and determined, happy to remain there for a moment longer to remember, to feel, to explode once more with the beauty of the sexual oneness.

We fall asleep. Together. Wrapped as one. Oblivious to anything. Mindful of everything and nothing. We think. We are without thought. We feel. We are devoid of any feeling other than the moment.

We fall asleep.

I move. He responds by clasping me nearer to him but he is sleeping.

I turn to face him.
His arms flop by my side, still clasping my hand.

I feel his body. It’s warm. It is full of life as he gently sleeps.

My cunt is still excited and I have to slip out of bed to get rid of a few more juices. There must be a cavity within me that collects the remnants of the physical and the thoughtful. I go to the toilet once more and I emit a clear, colourless spillage into the loo. It’s come from just lying there and watching him sleep.

I return to bed and slide the covers over me, careful not to disturb his slumber and I drift away, unseen and seemingly into a deep sleep.
Hours pass and through that time, there is occasional touching from him and from me.
A leg moves over here. A hand twitches to touch there. An arm glides over the shoulder and embraces the breast. One reciprocates and gently flutters over the pubes.
It is slight at first. There is a break of several minutes between each touch. Then the bodies come closer. The time between touches diminishes and uninvited yet perfectly desired, a finger slides once more into my cunt.
I am barely awake, yet it feels right. He wants me to cum and I oblige all too quickly.
This excites his cock once more and for hours and hours we make love, and we fall asleep, and we touch one another, and we make love some more.

I find myself looking at his back. I’m not worried about disturbing him. That is not a selfish statement. He’ll sleep through my touches if he wants to but I need to just place my hand down his back.
I feel his being and I am satisfied. He smiles. I can’t see it but I know it is there.

I turn away and sleep.

He brushes my neck with his hand. I turn over and accept the awaiting hug.

We fall asleep once more.

The morning arrives with more of the same.
He takes my hand and I guide him to my pussy. We both enter into it. We both get a drenching.
He moves on top of me, and he fucks me again.
I take his cock in my hand and wank away, hoping he will squirt more of his stuff all over me. He obliges and I rub it into my stomach and over my boobs. I kiss his cock immediately afterwards. I love doing that.

We don’t sleep now. We just lie there and think.

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I miss him on the nights when we are not together. I miss this; the spirituality of sleep. I’d miss it and long for it even if the sex wasn’t there.
There is something incredibly perfect about lying in bed with someone that you care for, someone that you want and need to be with.

A hug is only real when it is felt by more than the actual physical presence. A kiss is merely a kiss when it has no meaning of relationship behind it, nice as the hug and the kiss from anyone has the potential to be.
But there is an abundance of spirituality in the sharing that a night bed has to offer.
There is no need for an imaginary umbilical cord or a band of gold to show such togetherness. The spirituality of sleep is in a place of its own. As I said, the words are not needed yet I feel a need to scream out and shout from the heights to reiterate how important it is – for me, for everyone.

Can you be spiritual and unconscious? Is sleep really as unconscious as we think?
I don’t know the answer to those questions. All I do know is that, for me, there is always going to be the spirituality in sharing that quietness of sleep. There is a state of being, a satori that we can all have with wonderful sex and perfect intimacy. When this is accompanied by hours and hours of quiet togetherness, often unconscious in sleep, it seems to sensitise it even more. It harmonises. It places you in another realm.
Yes, there is very definitely a sensuality and spirituality in sleep. Think about it next time you are in bed with your loved one(s). Morning, noon or night.

And then meditate. Meditating on such thoughts is blissful too.

Sleeping, Sex and Quickies

Sleeping, sex and quickies

The article in the Guardian magazine told the world something quite amazing. It stated that there was correlation between how a couple slept together and how intimate they were when they were awake. It stated that the closest couples were those who went to bed at the same time, even if one fell asleep before the other. It stated that a lack of sleep can be quite stressful and the cause of inflated problems because fatigue affects the frontal lobes meaning that self-control can go out of the window. It then stated that you should do something together just before going to bed, like watching something you both enjoy on television rather than talking about mundane chores. It finished with the surprising conclusion that if you really want a good night’s sleep you should have damn fine sex, preferably with an orgasm. Apparently, endorphins released during orgasm have sedative qualities and arousal releases opiate like effects ensuring a good soporific state.

Tell me something I didn’t know, on nearly all of these statements.
But I suppose it is always good to have your knowledge confirmed by the weightier and more serious newspapers. It is always good for such newspapers to remind the unenlightened world that these are the realities of life and that sex is rather good for you in so many different ways, which is why people should do it more often!

I, of course, struggle with all of these statements, mainly because I know them to be right, mainly because even though I know them to be correct, I don’t live my life in this way.

I think sometimes that my lover thinks I have a perverse fixation with sleeping with him. I adore falling asleep with his arms wrapped around me, letting my endorphins loose, giving me that natural high from the opiate-like microbes or whatever they are. Blimey, we have always known that there are natural highs in life and there is nothing more natural and nothing more perfect than the natural high that comes from sex.
I love the times when we have slept together, falling gracefully into slumber after the usual phenomenally good sex that we have. And we have woken in the middle of the night and still needed to make love. And I have also delighted in waking up in the morning and having yet more sex because the intimacy and closeness of the sex just keeps the appetite going and the desire increases with more sex. Sex breeds more sex breeds further desire for sex and so on.
There is no saturation point – back to drugs and natural highs!
Yes, I think I can safely admit that I am addicted to this type of sex. I have an insatiable appetite.
Is it any wonder that I want it to happen more frequently? Is there any abnormality or perversion in that?

Sleeping with someone who you care about and who you want to share a bed with is a divine experience. The proximity, familiarity, loveliness is awesome. It is priceless. It is irreplaceable. It is what I crave, yes crave! In saying this, it doesn’t mean that without it my relationship is incomplete. Far from it, and we can always imagine - when it is not possible to spend a night with one another.

The joy is that I know enough about sex to know that irrespective of whether we are spending a night together, we still have the endorphins, we still have the natural highs and we can still de-stress and fall into a divinely soporific state. It doesn’t have to be night-time for this to happen.
It’s just that, as this article points out, that would be a sensible state. That would probably be the natural way to live.
This is the ultimate stress buster!

And I know this because in my life, I break all these natural rules. I go to bed hours before my partner. We sleep at either end of the bed. We don’t watch television together. We don’t do these things.
We certainly don’t have sex.
I know the reader might say “Well do something about it” but life is not that simple. I’m not into comparisons but sometimes, it is difficult. It is so difficult.
I’m not going to write any more about this because I fear that I could be seen as the biggest hypocrite in the world for espousing this as a way of life and not managing to engage in it myself.
Needless to say, in different circumstances this would be exactly the way I would go to bed, night in night out.

One final comment, though I must add.
In this article it said it would be a good idea to go to bed together after watching something you both enjoy on television. Whilst I think this is a good idea, I also think that talking to one another is also something that I would advocate. You don’t need television. Talking, not about chores but just talking is good. And the other thing missing from this article is music.
Those words at the start of Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night” were not just conjured up on a whim!
Music and love, whatever that may be, go hand in hand. Before, during, after sex – music is life-giving, life-enhancing.
Use it wisely!
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Another magazine, another sex article – only this time it is advocating quickies.
It says that we shouldn’t dismiss the quickie as an insignificant sexual experience compared with the longer version with full-on foreplay. It says that a ten minute quickie instead of “45 minutes” is often more appealing to women. It goes on to say that the wonderful “new man” may be worried about giving his woman a quickie because it doesn’t really give her time to orgasm (Duh???) and is therefore somewhat selfish. Apparently, when talking about quickies, the majority of the women interviewed used words such as ‘energised’, ‘exhilarated’, ‘empowered’, ‘invigorated’.
“It provides more of a buzz, rather than that sleepy relaxed feeling of long sex” says one contributor. And then comes the comment from the specialist – the expert. “Even a 20 second hug raises your oxytocin (bonding hormone) levels”. So a quickie is fine.

Before I make comments on these, I have to mention one wonderful anecdotal fact in this article. It says that a recent Scottish study found that people who have sex every other day looked seven to 12 years younger than the less active!
So maybe the best birthday present one can give to their partner is sex every other day. I think this is a must. It has to be arranged. What greater gift can you give to one another, especially if there is concern that age is creeping up and up and up!

Right, let us return to this article.
One of the first things I would like to say is that it is once more positive to see articles about sex in a relatively up market magazine. People should be encouraged to get sex as often as possible, and should not dismiss the pleasantries of a quickie.
In contrast to this though, I sincerely hope there might be a day when people read these articles purely for affirmation of their behaviour rather than learning something new. I hope that information based articles should be redundant.
Whilst I am about to scrutinise and challenge some of the comments and do exactly what I am about to complain about, I have to say something.
Is it really necessary to compartmentalise sex in this way? Quickies, long love-making, oral sex, DIY – we order, analyse, circumnavigate sex too often. It goes back to a statement I have made time and time again. In this country we are so preoccupied with sex that we don’t actually get round to doing it, naturally, as it comes, as it feels right in the moment. We pretend that we are enlightened about sex but the very fact that we need such articles suggests that we are hardly using this wealth of knowledge in our daily sexual lives. I think there is a huge danger than people feel they are sexually enlightened because they read such articles without blushing. Now get them to read the article with their partner. Different story, I think. Now get them to do some of the things suggested in the articles – and it is time for sleep and crawling under the duvet, away from aforementioned partner. Or am I being too harsh?

Anyway, as promised, let’s get back to the article.
I actually think it is a good idea to suggest people have quickies whenever they can. Quick sex is brilliantly horny. Recently, I had very little time with my lover and he suggested frigging me till I came on the kitchen floor. At first I was disappointed that we didn’t have longer, then I realised that in procrastinating, we had actually run out of time, so a very small finger fuck was all there was time for, and I had to hold back from cumming because there wasn’t enough time!
The point is that if the time is right for sex you should just get on with it because that is the right thing to do.

Of course, I am going to have to take exception to this idea that women cannot cum quickly. To be fair, even the article says that this is bollocks. “Women do not take longer to get aroused than men; they simply get too little and the wrong kind of stimulation” says the co-authors Marcia and Lisa Douglass in their book, “Are We Having Fun Yet: The Intelligent Woman’s Guide to Sex”.
And herein lies the issue. People do not use all of their intelligences to get aroused.
By the time my lover has got his fingers or his cock or his tongue into my cunt, I’m already there, quickie or no quickie, because he fucks my mind as competently as he fucks my body. He has stimulated me, and I have enabled him to stimulate me with his kisses or the urgency in his eyes. There have been times when I have thought about sex so much on my journey to his house that I am completely aroused before he opens the door, such is my anticipation and imaginative foreplay, so that as soon as he touches me, I am aware that one millimetre of a move will bring on a cascade.
Essentially, I use my mind as well as my body and then I remember and embrace the spiritual wonderment of sex and all of this BEFORE any bodily contact has taken place.
Please listen to this folks. This is so damn important.
Women can get aroused but don’t leave it all down to your partner twiddling and fiddling with your sexual organs. DO something about it for yourself with your thoughts and your feelings, even if you cannot contemplate giving yourself a finger fuck to get things going.

The other thing that I want to mention is this timing issue. A quickie could be three minutes if you want it. There are some people who will read this article and think that ten minutes is a long session not a quickie, and will be quite demoralised. Poor them is what I say because on reading this article, I was feeling somewhat smug. The reason for this smugness was the fact that they suggested that 45 minutes was a long love-making session.
Pah! That’s sort of medium. I am such a bloody, lucky girl. Over an hour is not unusual. Two hours on and off has not been unheard of. Going back to the Guardian article, prolonged sex interspersed with sleeping is not unheard of; perpetual non-stop sex through the night is going to happen and soon! Promise!

I don’t want people to feel horribly envious of me and I am only saying this to remind people that if they want hour or hour’s long sex, then they should strive for it, for it is attainable.
Again, I am not suggesting that I have cock inside me for an entire, uninterrupted two hours, but who the hell said penetrative sex was the be all and end all of sex?
Give me a good finger fuck; shove even more than one or two fingers up my fanny, and replace them with a hard cock, and I can guarantee I’ll be happy. Lick my cunt and take my copious cum in your mouth and I promise I won’t want to stop there. Lie down and relax for a while whilst grabbing a handful of my tit, gently tweaking my erect nipples – it’s still sex and as soon as I am ready for more, I will spread my legs or take your hand and forcefully direct it to do some more work. It’s all sex!

‘Energised’, ‘exhilarated’, ‘empowered’, ‘invigorated’ – these are all words that everyone should be using about sex whether it lasts for three, five, ten, twenty, eighty or two hundred minutes. These are the feelings that come from good sex, and it is the goodness of the sex rather than the amount of time which is the really important thing, the thing that we should be advocating above and beyond anything else.

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And just to prove the point, I’m going to have to have a quickie now – a quick wank because whilst I was writing this penultimate paragraph, I had a huge flashback to the incredible sex I had last week and a rush of adrenelin and hormonal rushes at the thought of having that again.