I’m not a morning person. That’s why I told my partner Ned to either come on me before heading off to work in the morning or to physically initiate sex. Ned prefers that I put in a morning sex OK the night beforehand. I tell him to err on the side of “initiate sex” and accept that I’ll tell him to sod off if it’s really not OK. Our relationship is such that those are my boundaries with him. We’ve jumped 30 foot waterfalls, we lived in a tent for a month during a hurricane season, we have a 2 year old mastiff/lab puppy we’ve raised together from the time when she could fit in my arms. I’m happy to negotiate and put in a morning sex request the night prior (like a wakeup call, I dig) but the whole thing of it is I’m not a morning person. You don’t want to ask me anything in the morning. The person you need to be asking is my cunt.
If you rouse me from slumber and demand communication my gut impulse is to swear at you and make the thing that is waking me up go away. The time when I’ve been woken is not a time for questions. I have no answers. I can dig into the action oriented part of my brain and do something. You can make my body respond, my body will be vaguely aware of the context, but my conscious mind will flicker in and out and it will hate you every single step of the way.
In my bed at home and with the familiar context of my partner’s touch, smell, and environmental fingerprint I have very seamless boundaries and so his touch is very welcome. This is also because I’m good (to a fault) at informing him when touch is not welcome and that I’ll be walking the dog through the neighborhood for a few hours or so. Having a solid no boundary is a key component to the “go ahead and start having sex with me in the morning when I’m still out cold” part of a sex life. At the very least, it’s something to talk about and to get that there are some instinctive reactions to interrupted sleep that humans have. For all of my best intentions, you might get clocked in the head. It’s a risk. And if that happened I might be very sad you didn’t attempt again the next day in spite of having been clocked.
It’s not as though we’ve never been injured because of the other. Not in a domestic violence way, not in a ritualistic sex S/M thing, either. It’s purely the byproduct of going out on a lot of outings to the middle of nowhere with one another, often. The glorious wear and tear of intimacy is strewn on our bodies. Some scars have hilarious stories. My right thumb now has a circlular abrasion scar like a small silvered moon from when I was holding a Hitachi Magic Wand against his cock while getting him off with it and the vibrator head took off a layer of skin on my thumb. This is why you use lube and remain aware of whether or not you are sustaining an open abrasion in the process of getting your partner off. Word to the wise. But still, there is comfort and a long history of good faith interactions even when some amount of discomfort may be involved.
I could love you and you could be waking me up and asking me if I want cake and I’ll probably just want to punch you because I’ll want sleep more than cake. I’m an insomniac, sleep is a rare thing for me, so I don’t give it up easily. However, because I trust my partner so much there’s that magical space of semi-consciousness where my body is positively present with sex and my mind is still in a half-sleep state of consciousness. I’ll orgasm rapidly in this state. I may make strange noises. The best way to end it is to let me roll right back into sleeping. This works well when I can sleep in longer than he does. My alarm goes off later.
I love the morning sex but setting an alarm would kill it for me. Alarms kill my libido. I avoid them at all costs. I don’t like having to set alarms to do anything. It doesn’t work. When my partner knocks on the door of my cunt, he’s going to get a warmer response than tapping me on the shoulder. The truth is, he hasn’t gotten kicked in the face yet. The mornings when he does indeed initiate sex while I sleep are often nights when I’ve gone to bed hot and horny while he was knocked out cold. While full on sleep sex has never been reported by my bedmates, the few I’ve spent more than a year sharing beds with have reported the occasional bout of sleep humping.
There appears to be a strange game of kinetic sexual energy at play. It’s exciting. I’ll go to bed horny, softly hump him through the night, then he wakes up and knows because it’s all obvious over time. Co-habitation is a small collective reality. Less a fetish for sleep sex, it’s a potential outlet of intimacy. It’s not just trust but the long simmer and collection of information. He never makes a blind guess when he takes up an opportunity to knock on my pussy for sex. It’s not an action of domination, not that there would be anything wrong with negotiating something like that, so much as it’s the fact that we both have better days when we share quick pleasure before being away all day.
It must suck to leave a warm bed and your lover for an alarm clock. As stated earlier, I find it intolerable. I need time to acclimate to waking consciousness. I need the ritual of grinding my coffee beans, boiling water, and making a pot of coffee. I need to smell it, hold it in my hands, and slowly join the world. Articulation is the last part of my mental hard drive to boot up. That’s why asking questions is difficult. It’s hard for me to vocally iterate anything but my other body processes can run fine without the outward projection of my thoughts. I get the privilege of being able to wake up in the way that lets me thrive. He still has to answer the alarm. Having a bonding moment of pleasure and intimacy is really helpful to make all of that suck less.
I do find that liminal space between sleep and waking fascinating and I’ve never had the opportunity to explore it so much with someone. Really, it started when I told him that he should feel free to ejaculate onto me if he was masturbating in the morning before work. Despite whatever you’ve heard about facials being degrading, I love them. I get as close as I can to the orgasms I come near. It’s such incredible mind-body synthesis that I can say I’ve never been bored by a single orgasm I’ve seen or experienced. Having someone come on me rather than in me allows me to get closer to what’s happening. I love when I’m squirted on after fingering someone in just the right ways. I love watching the whole body contract as well but the epicenter of the orgasm is an exciting place to be.
So it was a warm joke and endearing part of our relationship that he would come all over me before heading to work. I would fall back asleep and sleep into hazy dreamscapes of lust and his fuzzy chest hair. It worked. Then I told him to start knocking on the pussy. On mornings when I would have scowled if he cheerily asked if I wanted coffee, his cock at the opening of my cunt would get it immediately wet and open. When the light is early and I hear him scoot the cats or the dog off the bed before shutting the bed and walking straight to my side of the bed, I start getting wet.
I don’t think I could organicly rise from sleep and request sex. The times when I have are nights with little sleep. I’ve generally been awake for quite some time if I’ve got an eager face. Sometimes I can tell from the very way my partner gets up from the bed 10 minutes before he’s going to initiate sex that he will, just from the way the springs of the bed seem to roll. Maybe it’s because I’ve been making them roll with thrusting. Maybe I’m projecting and throwing sex phermones out into the room. Maybe I’m a Jedi. What I know is that I haven’t been wrong.
It’s rare, but it happens, when his body comes into contact with mine while I’m still sleeping. My hazy half-sleep sex is generally from a brain that understood that it didn’t need all of its systems running for the activity at hand. Actually being surprised is another experience entirely. There’s a rush of vulnerability but also a sudden wave of relief and pleasure. Rather than kick, I tend to wrap my legs around him and pull him closer to me. I recognize him so quickly I don’t ever feel a gap of fear. We sleep beside one another, eat beside one another, and have built a home together. His body feels so much like a part of mine that when he moves to enter my body in the morning it doesn’t feel foreign at all. It feels just right.