secret desires inside of her, desires even Ron didn't know about.
She'd even imagined she felt the length of a long, wet, and sinewy thing pressing itself against her sex. Not a cock; something like a strong, winding tongue undulating against her wet cunt. She'd woken in a cold sweat, shocked and scared and ashamed but deeply, deeply hungry for more.
In silent, furtive humiliation, with her husband still snoring faintly beside her, Priya did something she hadn't done since her teenage years. She slid both hands down her quivering body, and stroked herself into a frantic, quietly gasping climax. Her breath caught in her throat as she came; she ground her teeth against crying out as the wet rush of her juices trickled down her palms.
Then she leapt out of bed in a hurry, rushing to the bathroom to jump in the shower before Ron could wake up.
That had been this morning. Ron said nothing about any wild squirming or whimpering coming from her side of the bed. In fact he never even looked up over breakfast, musing over the newspaper as he ate. It relieved her, really: she expected he'd see the childish guilt on her face, as though she'd been caught sneaking a peek at some especially obscene pornography.
This is ridiculous .
Easier to think so in the light of day. Well into her forties, Priya long ago accepted she’d left her horny adolescent fantasies behind her. Even when she'd been a horny adolescent...she’d never needed sex like this.
Nothing she read regarding sleep paralysis said anything about such grasping, obsessive sexual craving.
She and Ron...well, they’d never been a frisky couple. Up until now, it turned out perfectly fine for them: their lovemaking, something ordered and efficient. Their routine approach was comfortable.
So why did she find herself lost in such vivid and disturbing carnal fantasies? Waking up to masturbate while an unfaithful seed of resentment throbbed in her heart, as though Ron had never truly satisfied her? As though he'd conspired to keep her from all the lascivious indulgences she wanted?
Indulgences she now had to know, and immediately, and in such copious, gluttonous greed she might never surface from under the flood of decadence.
Priya sighed, putting her head in her hands and fighting tears of anxious exhaustion.
This wasn't her. This was someone she didn't recognize, not on any level.
It scared her.
***
"R on?" she asked at dinner, toying with the food on her plate. The nausea from her lack of sleep made food an unpleasant prospect, and she'd eaten nothing since her lunch hour. A little toast and a cup of lentil soup. Though she loved lentil soup, today it hadn't measured up. Nothing measured up.
"Yes, darling?" Ron replied.
"I've been thinking," she murmured, heat rising to her cheeks. "Maybe we could skip your rotary club meeting and spend some time together tonight?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Did you have something in mind?"
"Well," she said. "We might try something new."
"Such as?"
He must see the humiliation on her face. Part of her hated him for not just knowing what she wanted to ask.
"Well, we could...try a blindfold?" she offered. "Maybe...tie me up?"
Ron gave her an odd look.
"I didn't realize those things appealed to you," he said, and then found an excuse to avert his eyes. His tone, dry and awkward, made her cringe. It said everything she needed to know about his opinion on the subject.
Priya sighed to herself. She didn't think she should be mad; she hadn't known it appealed to her, either. Still, it hurt. As though he'd deserted her when she very much needed him.
They said no more, and he left for his meeting. Dreary and exhausted, Priya couldn't find the energy to do anything besides plod off to bed. She crawled under the covers on her belly, praying there would be no delirious, dark imaginings when she closed her eyes.
Then—seemingly immediately—the paralysis took her. It replaced her weary, aching fatigue with a rabid, feverish, and animal
She'd even imagined she felt the length of a long, wet, and sinewy thing pressing itself against her sex. Not a cock; something like a strong, winding tongue undulating against her wet cunt. She'd woken in a cold sweat, shocked and scared and ashamed but deeply, deeply hungry for more.
In silent, furtive humiliation, with her husband still snoring faintly beside her, Priya did something she hadn't done since her teenage years. She slid both hands down her quivering body, and stroked herself into a frantic, quietly gasping climax. Her breath caught in her throat as she came; she ground her teeth against crying out as the wet rush of her juices trickled down her palms.
Then she leapt out of bed in a hurry, rushing to the bathroom to jump in the shower before Ron could wake up.
That had been this morning. Ron said nothing about any wild squirming or whimpering coming from her side of the bed. In fact he never even looked up over breakfast, musing over the newspaper as he ate. It relieved her, really: she expected he'd see the childish guilt on her face, as though she'd been caught sneaking a peek at some especially obscene pornography.
This is ridiculous .
Easier to think so in the light of day. Well into her forties, Priya long ago accepted she’d left her horny adolescent fantasies behind her. Even when she'd been a horny adolescent...she’d never needed sex like this.
Nothing she read regarding sleep paralysis said anything about such grasping, obsessive sexual craving.
She and Ron...well, they’d never been a frisky couple. Up until now, it turned out perfectly fine for them: their lovemaking, something ordered and efficient. Their routine approach was comfortable.
So why did she find herself lost in such vivid and disturbing carnal fantasies? Waking up to masturbate while an unfaithful seed of resentment throbbed in her heart, as though Ron had never truly satisfied her? As though he'd conspired to keep her from all the lascivious indulgences she wanted?
Indulgences she now had to know, and immediately, and in such copious, gluttonous greed she might never surface from under the flood of decadence.
Priya sighed, putting her head in her hands and fighting tears of anxious exhaustion.
This wasn't her. This was someone she didn't recognize, not on any level.
It scared her.
***
"R on?" she asked at dinner, toying with the food on her plate. The nausea from her lack of sleep made food an unpleasant prospect, and she'd eaten nothing since her lunch hour. A little toast and a cup of lentil soup. Though she loved lentil soup, today it hadn't measured up. Nothing measured up.
"Yes, darling?" Ron replied.
"I've been thinking," she murmured, heat rising to her cheeks. "Maybe we could skip your rotary club meeting and spend some time together tonight?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Did you have something in mind?"
"Well," she said. "We might try something new."
"Such as?"
He must see the humiliation on her face. Part of her hated him for not just knowing what she wanted to ask.
"Well, we could...try a blindfold?" she offered. "Maybe...tie me up?"
Ron gave her an odd look.
"I didn't realize those things appealed to you," he said, and then found an excuse to avert his eyes. His tone, dry and awkward, made her cringe. It said everything she needed to know about his opinion on the subject.
Priya sighed to herself. She didn't think she should be mad; she hadn't known it appealed to her, either. Still, it hurt. As though he'd deserted her when she very much needed him.
They said no more, and he left for his meeting. Dreary and exhausted, Priya couldn't find the energy to do anything besides plod off to bed. She crawled under the covers on her belly, praying there would be no delirious, dark imaginings when she closed her eyes.
Then—seemingly immediately—the paralysis took her. It replaced her weary, aching fatigue with a rabid, feverish, and animal
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