Stream of Consciousness
How had she done it, Alison wondered, feeling herself being led through the crowd like in a dream.
It was so loud... so very loud. There were guitars screaming electric notes everywhere, scratchy throated vocalists trying to strain out one more word of their painfully predictable indie ballads. The drums were a staccato cacophony, too new age or retro-punk or whatever the genre of the month was to have any sort of pattern for the girl that held Alison’s hand to use. The wild shrieks of the groupies. The sounds of glass breaking and the sickly scent of pot in the air.
Even the elbows and the careless feet of dancing twentysomething hipsters and the teenyboppers that had flashed fake ids to sneak into the venue. How had she done it, Alison wondered.
Had it been her eyes? Alison knew that it couldn’t have been that. There were too many bands with fog machines and dry ice, too many strobes and too many stage lights for Alison to see anyone’s eyes. She couldn’t use words... it couldn’t have been words. She remembered having thought of that already, and again Alison could feel the noise around her. It was almost impossible to make out whatever the singers were saying, much less trying to hold a conversation.
Maybe she had slipped something in... no. Alison didn’t drink. At least she didn’t want to. At least she hadn’t started. At least...
Alison tried to stir up some fear. She tried to tell her heart to feel what her mind told her she should be feeling. But it just seemed so...
She couldn’t even find the words to describe it.
Resisting it... resisting her... Alison knew that she should. She should try to break out of whatever spell had been cast on her. That she should just stop, pull her hand away gently... Alison knew that was all it would take for her to stop. But...
How had she done it?
How had she stopped Alison from worrying. How had she made Alison fade from reality into this sleepy haze? How had she kept Alison’s mind so perfectly settled, so reasonable and so aware, but so soft at the same time? How was she keeping Alison so happy and calm and trusting even though in her mind she knew she was being led to...
Led to what... Led to... Led...
It was so hard to think. It was so hard to notice that the crowd was thinning. It was so hard to see that they were getting closer to the exit. It was so hard to hear herself say a quiet little “...no...” when the security had asked if she wanted to have her hand stamped if she wanted to come back. So hard to care about the fact that she didn’t know if she would ever come back to anything.
How had she...
How had she made the sides of Alison’s lips tug slowly into a warm smile? How had she... make her smile so contentedly and so warmly as... as... as warm and wet and satisfied as her pussy. How had she make her sex start to steam and slide in the way that she always had to spend five minutes touching herself with just because... because... because she knew that she had to be wet and smiling and happy and warm and just so... so...
How had she made Alison so sleepy? How was she so very, very sleepy even as they started to run. Even as her pussy began to weep, her heart began to pump, her legs began to ache as they pounded over the hard pavement and her shins were starting to cry out and she was breathing so ragged and... and...
Alison shivered as she fell asleep. Shivered as she fell asleep as she straightened up, fell asleep with her eyes wide open and adrenaline making her twitch and with her gasping for breath as the girl made them stop in front of a charming little red brick townhouse while she fumbled with her keys.
It was sooooo good to be asleep. It was so perfect to be perfectly still as they snuck into the house, and it was so nice to hear the girl shush her and tell her not to wake up her housemates. She mustn’t wake up other sleeping people, who like her, were perfectly asleep, even if they were in soft, cozy beds while she was drenched in sweat and fumbling in the dark. She was just as deeply asleep as they were, after all. It was so nice to be careful and tense and cautious and alert while she was so relaxed and asleep and dreaming. It felt so good to make sure not to put her weight down on the squeaky stair step, and it made her so aroused to pretend to be awake just long enough to slip by whoever was still brushing their teeth at this time of night.
How had she done it, Alison wondered as she closed the door ever so slowly behind her. How had she made Alison sleepwalk on her tiptoes over CDs and textbooks and toys and laundry and papers...
How was it so nice to take off her clothes? It seemed so strange yet so perfectly right to sink deeper and deeper every time she let another piece of her outfit pool around her feet. It made her sleep even more... perfectly.
And Alison was so perfectly asleep. She could only ever be asleep if she was standing straight and rigid, letting her pussy spill juice down her thighs while she stared right at the blank wall with so many rock posters on it... wait... the blank wall that was as blank as her? Oh... nevermind the poster. Alison wasn’t looking at the wrong wall at all. There wasn’t anything on the wall. There weren’t any posters or photos on this wall. Just like how she was asleep and standing and smiling and creaming and sleeping and staring and sleeping and feeling so wet and sleeping and going deeper and deeper and sleeping...
Sleeping with her eyes open as she smiled the way she smiled when she was wet and ready for sex. Sleeping as she crawled into bed with the lady while purring her purr that meant she wanted to have her brains leak from her pussy. Sleeping as she slid down the zipper that was hiding the perfect pair of breasts that Alison had waited her whole life to suck and lick and fondle, even if she only realized it that second.
It was so perfectly nice and easy and relaxing to start grinding her pussy on the other girl’s jeans. Only the drowsiest, most deeply asleep girls like Alison could ever feel that burning need to tear off her lover’s clothes and throw them across the room at the wall that didn’t have a poster and was actually as blank as her mind.
It was the most natural thing in the world to trib against her lover while she snoozed so peacefully. Biting her lip down so hard that it drew a coppery bead of blood just so that the others in the house wouldn’t hear her screaming was better than a warm glass of milk and a bottle of cough syrup when it came to sending her to dream.
She was asleep, and this was always what Alison did in her sleep. She was realizing so many things as she slept and fucked and drenched the girl in her slick sleep sweat. She always followed strange girls at rock shows without telling anyone where she was going, or even caring to know where she was going. She always had to make sure that no one would follow them, to run as fast as she could so that she could fuck in her sleep. And she always had the best sex when she was asleep with her eyes wide open.
It felt good to lick and fuck and suck and slide and tremble while the other girl touched every part of her sleeping body, and it felt so see her lover’s perfect shivers of delight, peaked nipples, and dewy pussylips as Alison continued to snooze so restfully. Alison always knew that whenever she started feeling the first tingles of orgasm, that was because she was so very deep asleep. Whenever she felt her heartbeat race and her skin slide covered in sweat and her thighs tensing and her breathe aching as she muffled her cries into the other girl’s lips as she was cumming, cumming, cuuuuuummminggg...
… it was so nice and amazing and perfect to slowly settle down at her lover’s side. It felt soooo right to for Alison to just let the girl use her sweaty breasts as a pillow. It felt so good to breathe deeply and slowly and let her heartbeat slow down like a lullaby to send them both to slumber, even though Alison was already so very very much asleep.
How had she done it, Alison wondered?