Half Awake and Fully Aroused

Brandi Love

This is an old story I dredged out of a hard drive from years ago-it doesn’t seem as polished as my more recent efforts, but I hope you enjoy it!


It’s been a stressful year for both of us. My job has changed drastically, our kids are both having a tough time in 8th and 10th grade respectively, and my wife’s mom is in declining health. We’re doing everything we can, but we both feel run into the ground every evening as we collapse in front of the TV after dinner.

Unfortunately, one of our favorite stress-relievers isn’t there for us either. We used to lock away the world and hide in the bedroom, talking dirty and teasing each other before getting down to business. My beautiful wife-short blonde hair, flashing green eyes, and a body at 50 that still seems like it belongs to the 22-year old I started dating so long ago. The same woman who once stripped down in the car and gave me road head for an hour hasn’t seen my dick in six months unless I was getting out of the shower. Pretty much every routine of our old lives has been disrupted by one problem or another.

One thing that helps me cope is meditation. Every morning, I get up early and center myself, heading into the day a little more balanced than I woke up. Unfortunately, my wife finds it incredibly boring, so it has become just another thing we don’t share. One thing that does seem to help her cope is Xanax. She is careful not to abuse it, but she went through a long period of not sleeping well, waking up with racing thoughts and a wildly beating heart. When she feels like that’s a possibility, she’ll take a half-tablet and zonk out for the night. She often jokes that she doesn’t feel any less stressed, but at least she can turn her brain off for a few hours. For her, sleep is the ultimate restorative, and she needs it the way I’ve come to need my “Zen time” as she calls my morning ritual.

Things came to a head last weekend, though. I worked a 14-hour day on Friday. The next morning, Jen’s mom had to be hospitalized for dehydration, and we spend Saturday getting her transported and settled in. Our son had a crisis among his peer group and didn’t want to talk about it, leaving us with surly responses and the sadness of seeing him isolated. I don’t remember what set our daughter off, but she flounced out mid-afternoon to spend the night with a friend because no one understands her here at home. Excellent weekend, right?

Anyway, I tried to mitigate the whirlwind by making a nice dinner for the three of us. As I finished up, though, our son came down and said he’d been invited to a video-game party and could he go spend the night at Spencer’s? Of course. Glad to hear it.

That left Jen and I to eat alone for the first time in a long while, and we opened a bottle of wine while we made our way through salads, shrimp linguine, and cheesecake. Even a couple of glasses is more than we’re used to, and we were both feeling as relaxed as we had in weeks. I have to admit that my thoughts were straying forward in time to a happy transition from table to bed to some serious catching up.

The phone rang at 9:00 and killed that dream, however. The nurse on duty called to let us know that Jen’s mom wasn’t just dehydrated-she was showing signs of Alzheimer’s even after she was stabilized. There was nothing to do about it that night, but Jen loyally called her siblings to pass along the news while I cleaned up the kitchen with a sigh. The romantic ship had sailed.

Talking to her brother and sister was a pretty emotional thing-obviously-and I poured her the tuzla eve gelen escort last glass of wine while she sat curled up in the living room on her phone. When she finally got off the phone, it was 11:00, and she was exhausted. Her sister couldn’t help, and her brother didn’t think it was such a big deal. Both easy things to say when you’re 600 miles away!

Anyway, Jen was a mess. She took a quick shower, but then came out and kissed me goodnight. In her hand were a glass of water and a whole Xanax, not just a half like usual. She nodded grimly and said, “It’s been that kind of night!” and popped it down before going off to bed.

Frustrated, I sat in the living room for a while. When I went to the bathroom, I passed our bedroom door and saw her sleeping peacefully. The house was quiet-the kids were away, Jen was asleep, and the TV was off. Hmm…

Pretty soon, I was stretched out in my favorite chair, laptop in place, and videos of willing wives going down on their husbands loading across multiple tabs. I may not have mentioned before, but my other coping mechanism is porn. Just zoning out and watching takes my mind off my usual troubles, and there’s the added bonus of a happy ending, even if it’s self-administered. After a while, the jeans and polo shirt I was wearing were getting in the way-no one likes to mess with a zipper at a crucial moment! I decided to change into pajamas and finish up with greater freedom.

When I walked into the bedroom, though, I paused. Jen was asleep, but she was stretched out across the bed diagonally, and the covers were kicked down in a way I know so well. She was wearing a ribbed tank top and loose blue shorts-a sexy little outfit-and her ass was pointed toward my side of the bed. The word “maybe…” flashed across my mind. Here I was with a raging hard-on, and we had both had a couple of glasses of wine after a stressful day. The kids were away, and that ass looked so succulent in the dim light of my reading lamp.

In a flash, I stripped down to my boxers. As gently as I could, I climbed onto the bed. Since I was there to wake her up if I could, I don’t know why I was moving so slowly, but it didn’t feel right to jump on the bed (or her) too abruptly. I settled in a foot behind her facing the same way and put my hand on her hip.

As my hand caressed the swell of her hip and down her upper thigh, my cock twitched with excitement. No panties! There’s no signal clearer than a layered-up wife to say “leave me alone!” when a husband is feeling frisky. In retrospect, I am 100% certain this choice was a product of fatigue and not sexual intentions, but I was happy to find no obstruction in the way of my roaming hand.

When my hand dipped lower to curve around the taut flesh of her ass, she moaned slightly and kept right on sleeping. Her body, however, reacted more positively-she bent her knee and pulled her upper leg up toward her chest, allowing me much better access. I leaned closer and kissed her shoulder, then down her arm, propping myself on one elbow to reach more of her. Aside from a slight shifting of her weight when I moved toward her, there was no reaction.

Since I was there to wake her up, not molest her, I took a more direct approach. I kissed the side of her neck softly and let my hand stroke the backs of her thighs, which always turns her on. That seemed to work! She smiled and moaned a little bit, eyes still closed.

When my fingers trailed up the inner surfaces of her thighs and bumped into the crotch of her shorts, she tuzla otele gelen escort moaned again, still smiling. My heart pounded happily when she rolled toward me and her legs fell open a bit. A quick look at her face, though, showed that she was not fully awake.

I rubbed more insistently on her crotch then, and like magic, her far leg flexed as she lifted it out to the side to grant me more access. My fingers went instantly inside the loose waistband of her shorts, moving as far down as I could reach to cup the soft curls that covered her mound. My fingers trailed along her labia, and I could feel the heat building under my touch. I started to stroke back and forth then, kissing her neck and feeling her body respond.

My pulse raced when Jen’s hand moved in the narrow space between us, searching for my cock. I quickly nudged my boxers out of the way, freeing myself for her groping hand. She grabbed it right away and held me tightly, not jerking me off but squeezing periodically and keeping my arousal at its peak.

When my probing finger slid experimentally along her slit, I found her damp with excitement already. I used my fingertips to spread the moisture around, coating her labia and her clit with slippery lubrication. My fingers were slick as well, and this allowed me to slip one and then two fingers into her pussy, working them in and out, letting her excitement build slowly as I prepared her for my cock.

“Babe,” I whispered urgently, again kissing her neck and nibbling her earlobe, “I want to be inside you!”

“Mmmm…OK,” she responded sleepily. Her hand squeezed me again tightly.

Eagerly, I slid my body into one of our favorite positions. I lifted her leg over my hip and scooted my ass forward. She was forced to let go of my cock when I did this, but I took matters into my own hands. Reaching across her to line up my cock, she scooted her butt toward me to help. With a quick circle to gather some of her copious juices, I slid the tip inside her. She moaned softly. Her free hand fell to her stomach, and I saw her fingers circling gently on her clit. With steady pressure, I pushed in an inch, then pulled back out, repeating the process and getting myself fully lubricated until I was buried all the way in her clasping pussy. I reached across her and cupped her breast, kissing her shoulder in appreciation.

When I pinched her nipple, she gasped a little bit, still with her eyes closed in bliss. As I moved to the near side and repeated my performance, her free hand came up to add stimulation to the breast I had just abandoned. I thrust into her steadily with short strokes, keeping myself almost all the way inside her to maximize her pleasure. Her fingertips continued their lazy circling.

Jen’s pussy got wetter and wetter as I drove my cock into her as deeply as I could. When I stopped playing with her nipple to hold the leg above me for leverage, her hand replaced mine once again. Now she was lying back, pinching both nipples steadily between her thumbs and forefingers. Her hips rocked in time with mine, and I could hear her breathing faster and faster.

Since her hands were out of the way, I moved my left hand down to the top of her slit. After getting my fingers wet, I slid my finger up and down the far side of her clit-she never liked direct pressure, but always came like a freight train when I stimulated her like this. Sure enough, she gasped when I started and began to moan softly with each breath. Likewise, her hips sped up to match the rhythm I was strumming tuzla sınırsız escort on her most sensitive spot. I was forced to match her to keep things in time, and soon I was panting myself.

Jen makes the best sounds when she orgasms-soft moans interspersed with shuddering “oh, god!” exclamations that always turn me on. I knew she was close when the moaning began, and I sent my fingertips and my hips into overdrive. Her whole body rocked with the force of my thrusts, and soon her ass was arching off the bed as her pleasure mounted. From that angle, my cock was hitting directly on her G-spot with every stroke-one reason it’s our favorite position!-and the little “oh, god!” chorus began. After another half dozen strokes, Jen let loose with a much louder moan and her whole body froze, quivering with ecstasy. The wild pulsations deep in her pussy were too much for me, and I responded as well, driving all the way into her and holding my cock there while spurt after spurt of cum cascaded into her.

When both of our peaks had crested, her body slowly relaxed back to the mattress. I reached my arm across her body to hug her close, and she moved her leg off of me, ending up with her ass buried in my lap, my cock still deep inside her. She sighed happily and moved both hands up to hold my arm as it crossed her breasts. I kissed the back of her neck and breathed the sweet scent of her hair, basking in the afterglow of a powerful orgasm.

Jen’s breathing slowed as well, and soon we were falling peacefully asleep. The last thing I remember was tugging my boxers back into position after my cock slipped out of her and then pulling the sheet up to cover us.

When I woke up, Jen was already up and out. I pulled on a T-shirt and padded into the kitchen to see if there was coffee. There was, so I poured a cup and went to find her. I heard muffled conversation on the deck, and opened the sliders to find her there wrapped in a checkered robe. As I closed the doors and sat down with her, I saw tears in her eyes.

“OK,” I heard her say. “I’ll be over at 9 to talk to the doctor.” She clicked the phone off and set it down on the table. Then her shoulders collapsed forward and her hands went to her face. I scooted closer and wrapped my arm around her shoulders, stroking her back.

“It’ll be OK, babe. We’ll deal with whatever is going on. Don’t worry…I’ll go with you.”

She nodded and looked up, drying her eyes on a tissue from her pocket. Finally, she blew her nose, took a sip of coffee, and took a deep breath to settle herself.

“I know, I know. We’ll deal with it. I just can’t believe my mom…” she trailed off sadly.

“Yeah, I know, babe. But she’s still your mom and she needs you. We’ll do whatever it takes.”

She nodded again, determined not to dissolve back into tears. She took another deep breath, and somehow found it in herself to move past that moment.

“Thanks, Steve. I needed to hear that.”

I kissed the top of her head, that being all I could reach in our sideways embrace.

“By the way…” she began.

“Hmmm?” I murmured.

“What did we do last night?”

A handful of emotions flashed across my mind-fear, guilt, happiness, doubt, shame, and pleasure all at once-but I replied as evenly as I could, “I came to bed at 11, and you spooned right up and started rubbing me. Don’t you remember?”

“Not a thing,” she said in a puzzled voice. “Must have been the Xanax talking!”

“Nah…it was like old times,” I replied.

“And we had sex, right?”

“Yes, we did…crossed spoons, just like we used to!”

She turned to look at me fully, a wistful smile on her face. “I miss that,” she said simply. “I wish I could remember more about it! I do remember waking up all snuggled, though…I liked that a lot.”

“Me, too, babe. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

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