She felt his breath on her neck, his hand on the curve of her hip, his weight on top of her. The lull of the dream was soothing and fuzzy. Cotton lace The band of her panties rubbing the back of her hand. She woke slowly, grasping at the fleating dream.
Eyes kept shut she moved her other hand under her tank top, cupping her breast. Her nipple was hard where he had kissed. She was close to cuming, her soft mound under her palm, her lips wet and slick around her fingers. Her hips instinctively rocked against the warmth building under her hand, urging her to cum.
Firmly she traced her clit, around then over. So close she quickened, squeezing her breast, hairs raising on her naval. *I shouldn’t* she stretched her toes, half pushing the thoughts, half willing them to stay. *Please* she gasped, letting a quick breath escape. She was quivering now. *Yes* she turned her head to the side, panting, pleading, as she had when he’d held his hand in her hair. That light tugging sensation.
*Fucking yes*
Back arched.
*I can’t*
She gasped again
*Yes!*