I’ve written about sleepy struggle fucks and sweet, half-asleep sex before, so I wanted to find a slightly different angle for today’s dissection-of-kink post. Instead of erotica I’m sharing a little bundle of thoughts about why I’m into sleepy, drowsy and night time sex – because I definitely am. I really, really like waking up to cock.
Content note for consensual non-consent play and some very heteronormative smut.
The idea of being used is hot to me.
I want to be used while I sleep. I want the man in bed beside me to wake up and decide he’s horny and needs someone to fuck. And I’m there, soft and compliant and simply begging to be used, so he does. Waking up, I might start sleepily mewling at the intrusion, and find a strong hand clamped down over my mouth. He doesn’t care whether I object, he just wants a set of willing holes to fuck, so I struggle underneath him, breathing through my nose, while he fucks me in rough, quick strokes. It’s a very functional fuck, and when he’s come he rolls off me and falls asleep. I lie there – now wide awake – wondering if I’ll wake him if I sneak my hand under the duvet to rub my aching clit.
The idea of come dripping out of me is hot to me.
It’s impossible for me, on two counts, to wake up to someone’s spunk dripping out of my cunt. That doesn’t stop me imagining it though. I think about waking up and reaching down to my cunt. I’d feel the stickiness of his come, making me feel sloppy and deliciously used. I’d rub my clit, imagining how my partner must have rolled me into position so he could fuck me in the middle of the night without waking me. Without feeling the need to wake me, because all I am just a set of wet, usable fuck holes to him.
The idea of him not caring if I’m sleepy is hot to me.
I imagine collapsing into bed next to the man I went out for dinner with, and curling up sleepily. I turn away from him and pull the duvet around him, but he’s turned on because I’ve been teasing him all evening and now he wants to fuck. My body is heavy with sleep but he forces my legs apart and pulls me back on to his hard cock. My eyes close and I settle into the rhythm of the fucking, drifting off to sleep as he tugs my hips to pull me into him. He bites my neck hard, whispering in my ear that I can’t fall asleep until he’s done fucking me. He rolls on to his back and orders me to ride him, but even as I clench my cunt around his cock my eyes are closed and there is something comforting about the mindlessness of this fuck.
The idea of waking up to cock is hot to me.
Recently the Writer sent me a text: “Imagine waking up to me holding you down, ready to use your throat.” I have been imagining that since then. Frequently. I imagine his hands on my shoulders, a firm weight pinning me down. Being woken up by him slapping my face – gently, but hard enough to make my cunt wet – I would blink sleepily. He’d only give me a few seconds to orientate myself before grabbing my jaw to force me to open my mouth. He pushes my cock in and fucks my mouth, making me choke and gag and drool while he tells me what a eager little cock slut I am.
Still half-asleep, I would start the morning holding a mouthful of his come and looking up at him, begging him with my eyes to let me swallow it, and that idea is hot to me.
Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a queer, trans, disabled sex writer with vaginismus. He’s a slut and a sex nerd who writes about his adventures in trying to fuck without fucking up. Quinn can usually be found wearing stomp-on-the-patriarchy boots while falling in love every time he fucks.