Nocturnal

It's late, I'm in bed, my partner snoring lightly beside me. I'm tired, but my mind is racing. Thinking, imagining, fantasising. I slip my hands up inside my shirt, tracing two parallel lines straight up to my breasts. I grab each nipple and squeeze gently. A lump forms in my throat.

I leave my shirt hitched up so that the top sheet can lightly rub, teasingly, against my now-erect nipples as I slowly wriggle my pants down my hips and kick them off. Knees apart. I gently stroke the outer lips, cup them with my hand, caress them. My hair has been trimmed very close to the skin so I feel every touch.

With my left hand I part my outer lips and hold them open; with my right, I gently touch my clit. I start stroking it, upwards at first, every now and then slipping my index finger inside myself to grab some more juice. It's late in my cycle - I'm not as wet as I would like.

I lie there, just stroking, making circles with my finger, enjoying the occasional involuntary shudder that goes straight to my nipples and my throat. Unfortunately, as both hands are occupied, I'm unable to do anything with my poor left nipple which is crying out for attention. Make a mental note to swipe a clothes peg from the washing line and hide it near the bed for next time.

I'm now suitably lubed up from my own juice and I start to pick up the pace. I'm no longer stroking but sliding my finger up and down. Up and down. Emphasis on the down. My fingers on my left hand start to cramp up (not now, not now) so I readjust. My breathing is fast and shallow but restrained, so as not to wake my slumbering other half. My movements are honed from years of practice; I am amazed that anyone has ever been able to get me there (and indeed, very few have). I wonder what it feels like to have a tongue down there, licking and stroking. It spurs me on.

I know exactly the moment when an orgasm is inevitable. I wish I could articulate it. It starts as a tingling or buzzing, and once it starts, I am powerless to stop it. When this moment arrives, I immediately stop rubbing and gently pulse my clit with the tip of my finger. It's too intense otherwise.

I imagine that a clitoral orgasm is more similar to a man's orgasm. I can have two or three vaginal orgasms (or four or five!) but once I've hit the big clitoral O, I can't go back. The buzzing starts. I suck in air through my teeth and then hold my breath, my head thrust back, my mouth open, as my whole body goes rigid, the blood pounding in my ears. I imagine that if I were with a partner at this point, I might cry out loud.

It takes me a good few minutes to recover. I am boiling hot and my whole body is covered in sweat. My mouth is dry and my throat parched - I'm dying for some water. I kick the covers off and sneak into the bathroom for a quick drink and to wash my hands before climbing back into bed. And falling fast asleep. Sated.

Amaryllis