After dinner, I washed up the dishes. By the time I was done, Isabel and Marie had taken their clothes off again and were back in bed. But they were mostly cuddling and talking softly. I took off my own clothes to join them, but I was too tired and too relaxed to do more than lie there and listen to their voices. After a while, someone must have turned off the lights. We all slept.
Once again, I woke in the middle of the night. Once again, Isabel and Marie were snoring. And I wasn't nearly as exhausted as I had been a few hours before. This time Isabel was in the middle of the bed (and next to me), while Marie was at the far edge. Hmm. Maybe I could play the same game with Isabel that I had played with Marie the night before. The arrangement seemed like too good a chance to pass up.
So I began lightly caressing Isabel's pubic hair, tracing it as far down as I could go without pushing her legs open. At first, there was no reaction. Then she stirred, and mumbled in her sleep. I was afraid she was going to roll over, which would end the game. But she stayed put. I kept stroking. She snored once more ... twice more ... and then stopped. Suddenly she made no noise at all.
That should have meant she was awake, but pretending to be asleep. Was it true? One way to check: I slid my caress down towards her crease, down towards her labia, but then stopped abruptly when I got to the spot where her legs came together. I moved my fingers gently up and down right there, to signal that I couldn't go any farther because her legs were closed. And then after a few seconds, Isabel stretched, insouciantly, as if she were still sound asleep and just stretching the way you do in your sleep. But when she was done stretching, her legs were open and I could reach everything.
So I stroked all the way down. I petted her labia, and pulled them gently apart. Pooled wetness spilled out. Once my fingers were slippery, I slid them back up again, painting the wetness all the way up Isabel's vulva. When I reached her clit, I went back for a second dose of the wetness, to make sure her clit was well-painted and smooth from every direction. In the semi-dark of the urban night, her clit stood up visibly. I slid my fingers back and forth across it, smearing the wetness more.
It wasn't long before I made my caresses more intense. Cupping my hand around her pubic bone, I curled two fingers inside her. I tried to reach her clit with my thumb, but ended up using my other hand to make sure that I never missed a single stroke. Isabel's whole body because to tense and stiffen; her breath was deep and hoarse. Across her, I saw Marie awaken, and roll onto her side to watch. A minute ... two minutes ... then I surprised Isabel by plunging my fingers deep inside as far as they would go. The surprise startled her expectations. For an instant she let go of all that tension—and in that instant the tension exploded through her. She cried out. Her body shook. And then she fell limp, panting heavily.
By this time I was hard again. I tried to climb on top of her. At first she turned away, as if she wanted to roll over and leave me to myself. But I whispered, "Hey, that's not fair after I did you," and she relented. I slid inside her, and loved her for a few minutes. After I was done, she rolled over and went straight back to sleep.
There had been other nights like this, in the past—nights when I had woken her out of sleep to a crashing orgasm, but when she was surly or unwilling to do the same for me. Since I always felt happy after sex, I could never understand why. But that evening I got an idea. Maybe—just maybe—she felt conflicted about it. Maybe she enjoyed the physical release, but felt unsafe when she was out of control. I'd have to think about that later. For now, the sex was making me groggy again.
Soon I was fast asleep.
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