MerryMercyP
Virgin
- Joined
- Apr 29, 2013
- Posts
- 1
"Just let me hold you baby, hold you right here."
I felt myself cede control, relax. His breath was close, warm, hinting at the touch requested, lips lightly brushing against my skin. I felt my pulse thumping madly, wondered if he could feel it beating, throbbing.
"Okay," I whispered.
And then I couldn't whisper any more. I tried to inhale, but I couldn't. Slow, deep breaths were my usual method of fighting panic. Count to five while I breathe in, count to five while I hold it in, count to five as I exhale.
My heart raced faster. I pushed against his weight. My arms wouldn't budge. My head was getting cloudy. Fuzzy. I felt like I was drowning. I tried to scream. All that came out was a soft croak.
Too far, my mind was echoing over and over, getting dimmer, fainter. I tried to turn to the light. There had to be light somewhere.
'So why's it gotta be so hard? Why you wanna hurt so bad? Why won't you take a deep breath? Inhale me in, inhale me in, me in...'
Saved by the bell, or ring tone, more appropriately.
I woke and felt my hands go automatically to my throat. Gulped in a few big deep breaths. It had just been a dream. 'The' dream, actually. The one that had been waking me up in the middle of the night in a panicked cold sweat for the last year or so. Every time I thought I'd put it to rest, finally, it came roaring back with a vengeance. Only now, it wasn't just that I couldn't breathe. It was someone there, caressing my naked body from toe to head, working his way up, then whispering in my ear.
"Just let me hold you baby, hold you right here," he would say softly, while clamping his hand tighter over my neck. Taking my breath.
The first time, I attributed it to too much ice cream too close to bed time. It had been short, I'd woken myself, feeling like there was someone in the room with me. I cut out the ice cream. I lost three pounds. But the dream returned. And each time, I felt like it lasted longer. When I was able to wake myself I was in more than a panic. I felt violated, like someone had been there, so much so I was afraid to open my eyes.
My best friend said she was worried about me, that I looked tired. I told her about most of the dream, the choking, suffocating sensation I woke with more nights than not. She decided I had sleep apnea and ordered me to see a doctor. I did. The test required I sleep over night at a small hospital, hooked up to all sorts of wires and monitors. I prepared, hoping this would be the end of it, I'd get fitted for one of those 'breathing machines,' and the dreams would cease. That didn't happen. I don't have sleep apnea, at least according to the test.
Then there was the sleeping pill trial. One didn't work at all, one made me unbelievably groggy, and one made me want to get up and cook.
So, I was going to see a shrink, as sort of a last resort. I didn't expect it to help. I wasn't even planning on telling him or her the entire story. At least not the part that had only started happening the last couple of weeks, or so.
I had started having orgasms in my sleep. When I heard the voice, that hypnotic 'just let me hold you baby, hold you right here,' I felt my belly grow warm, then the feeling spread to my my thighs, and between, inside. In my dream, I could almost feel something penetrating me, a hard thumb against my clitoris, rubbing me while I struggled. And then I would wake up at the moment the climax started to flow. My hands were at my sides, and when I put them to my face, I didn't detect the scent my arousal, so I wasn't touching myself when it happened. But I was having an orgasm, of that there was no doubt.
The "shrink," or doctor, I suppose they prefer to be called, turned out to be a man. His receptionist, or secretary, or whatever it is they like to be called these days, smiled warmly when I walked in and gave her my name. She handed me the usual clipboard with forms to complete and told me the doctor would be ready for me in about 15 minutes. I nodded thanks and took a seat to fill out the papers she handed me. I tried to be as complete and truthful as I could, writing 'insomnia' as the reason for my visit.
Dr. West turned out to be a man. Handsome, seemingly interested in what I had to say, and he had a voice that put me at immediate ease. It seemed familiar. I was certain I'd never met him, but there was something about him that drew me, almost had me confessing the last part of my recent dreams. But I held back, that part. It was just my first visit. I didn't feel that comfortable yet, not enough to confess having orgasms in my sleep.
The hour passed quickly, and while I didn't feel like we had done more than share small talk, I did feel somewhat lighter after speaking with him. He gave me a few simple exercises to do at night before bed, advised the usual insomnia treatments I'd heard from everyone else, and told me to make a follow up appointment for the next week. When he stood to walk me out, he shook my hand briefly, just long enough for me to appreciate the warmth, strength in his fingers. There was a moment where his touch was almost familiar; so much so I didn't want to let go. But I did, and left his office feeling a little more optimistic about a good night's sleep than I had in awhile.
I felt myself cede control, relax. His breath was close, warm, hinting at the touch requested, lips lightly brushing against my skin. I felt my pulse thumping madly, wondered if he could feel it beating, throbbing.
"Okay," I whispered.
And then I couldn't whisper any more. I tried to inhale, but I couldn't. Slow, deep breaths were my usual method of fighting panic. Count to five while I breathe in, count to five while I hold it in, count to five as I exhale.
My heart raced faster. I pushed against his weight. My arms wouldn't budge. My head was getting cloudy. Fuzzy. I felt like I was drowning. I tried to scream. All that came out was a soft croak.
Too far, my mind was echoing over and over, getting dimmer, fainter. I tried to turn to the light. There had to be light somewhere.
'So why's it gotta be so hard? Why you wanna hurt so bad? Why won't you take a deep breath? Inhale me in, inhale me in, me in...'
Saved by the bell, or ring tone, more appropriately.
I woke and felt my hands go automatically to my throat. Gulped in a few big deep breaths. It had just been a dream. 'The' dream, actually. The one that had been waking me up in the middle of the night in a panicked cold sweat for the last year or so. Every time I thought I'd put it to rest, finally, it came roaring back with a vengeance. Only now, it wasn't just that I couldn't breathe. It was someone there, caressing my naked body from toe to head, working his way up, then whispering in my ear.
"Just let me hold you baby, hold you right here," he would say softly, while clamping his hand tighter over my neck. Taking my breath.
The first time, I attributed it to too much ice cream too close to bed time. It had been short, I'd woken myself, feeling like there was someone in the room with me. I cut out the ice cream. I lost three pounds. But the dream returned. And each time, I felt like it lasted longer. When I was able to wake myself I was in more than a panic. I felt violated, like someone had been there, so much so I was afraid to open my eyes.
My best friend said she was worried about me, that I looked tired. I told her about most of the dream, the choking, suffocating sensation I woke with more nights than not. She decided I had sleep apnea and ordered me to see a doctor. I did. The test required I sleep over night at a small hospital, hooked up to all sorts of wires and monitors. I prepared, hoping this would be the end of it, I'd get fitted for one of those 'breathing machines,' and the dreams would cease. That didn't happen. I don't have sleep apnea, at least according to the test.
Then there was the sleeping pill trial. One didn't work at all, one made me unbelievably groggy, and one made me want to get up and cook.
So, I was going to see a shrink, as sort of a last resort. I didn't expect it to help. I wasn't even planning on telling him or her the entire story. At least not the part that had only started happening the last couple of weeks, or so.
I had started having orgasms in my sleep. When I heard the voice, that hypnotic 'just let me hold you baby, hold you right here,' I felt my belly grow warm, then the feeling spread to my my thighs, and between, inside. In my dream, I could almost feel something penetrating me, a hard thumb against my clitoris, rubbing me while I struggled. And then I would wake up at the moment the climax started to flow. My hands were at my sides, and when I put them to my face, I didn't detect the scent my arousal, so I wasn't touching myself when it happened. But I was having an orgasm, of that there was no doubt.
The "shrink," or doctor, I suppose they prefer to be called, turned out to be a man. His receptionist, or secretary, or whatever it is they like to be called these days, smiled warmly when I walked in and gave her my name. She handed me the usual clipboard with forms to complete and told me the doctor would be ready for me in about 15 minutes. I nodded thanks and took a seat to fill out the papers she handed me. I tried to be as complete and truthful as I could, writing 'insomnia' as the reason for my visit.
Dr. West turned out to be a man. Handsome, seemingly interested in what I had to say, and he had a voice that put me at immediate ease. It seemed familiar. I was certain I'd never met him, but there was something about him that drew me, almost had me confessing the last part of my recent dreams. But I held back, that part. It was just my first visit. I didn't feel that comfortable yet, not enough to confess having orgasms in my sleep.
The hour passed quickly, and while I didn't feel like we had done more than share small talk, I did feel somewhat lighter after speaking with him. He gave me a few simple exercises to do at night before bed, advised the usual insomnia treatments I'd heard from everyone else, and told me to make a follow up appointment for the next week. When he stood to walk me out, he shook my hand briefly, just long enough for me to appreciate the warmth, strength in his fingers. There was a moment where his touch was almost familiar; so much so I didn't want to let go. But I did, and left his office feeling a little more optimistic about a good night's sleep than I had in awhile.
