Pressure.

Pleasure.

So, so fucking good.

Another moan, but this one wasn't me. It was closer, and yet higher, not only in elevation but also in pitch. It was almost a whimper, a gasp, or even just an exhaled breath. But it wasn't me.

I wasn't alone.

Nor was I awake.

Heat.

Pressure.

Pleasure.

Incredibly good.

I felt the pillow behind my head, supporting me. My face lolled to one side, and I could feel my mouth hanging open. I may have been drooling, and the simple embarrassment at that idea threatened to fully pull me from my doldrums.

But it didn't.

My arms were flung back, my right wrist and hand against the headboard, my left forearm on the pillow beside me. It was a pillow that had been occupied Last night, but no longer. Had she left me? No. I knew that I wasn't alone.

Nor was I awake.

Heat.

Pressure.

Pleasure.

Almost TOO good.

My abs clenched and released of their own accord. I wasn't thrusting, not exactly. More like I was reacting. It was an involuntary movement.

It was an unconscious movement.

Because I wasn't awake, you see.

I could feel my balls tensing, the density within them building.

Too much heat.

Too much pressure.

Too much pleasure.