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On cupping

The other day I walked in on the boy asleep on the sofa, wearing just pants and a t-shirt, right hand cupped gently around his junk and wide out in the open. Mmm.

There’s definitely something comforting about touching yourself – not necessarily in a filthy way that means you’ll get hairy palms, go blind and/or go to hell. Just holding yourself to get some warmth, and feel the solidity of your genitals beneath your palm.

I love to do this. On rare occasions when my hands aren’t occupied with a cigarette, a laptop or a cup of coffee, I’ll stick my hand down my knickers and cup myself. Silk or lace up against the back of my hand, coarse hair and warmth on my palm. It’s not hot like a bent-over fuck but it’s nice like a warm bath or coming inside from the rain.

I do the same with my tits. Boys I’ve known have occasionally commented that if they were girls they’d play with their tits all the time. Rarely do they stop to consider whether those of us with tits do that anyway. Running our hands over the underside of our breasts, slipping a hand inside the bra just to grab a bit of extra warmth. It’s thumbsucking for grown-ups, and I love it.

Cup me

That rather long ramble was merely a shameful excuse to tell you that this happened the other night, and it kicked me so solidly in the gut with lust that I couldn’t help but write about it.

I was in bed, and awake early in the morning. Having slipped out to go to the loo, I’d stumbled back in and smooshed around a bit, trying to find the warm patch I’d had to leave behind. As I snuggled down, the boy with me stirred. He’ll do this at any time of night, no matter how asleep he is: movement from me equals him turning, reaching out, grasping for me in the dark. Usually he flings a limb over me, or runs his hand up my stomach before his forearm settles just underneath my tits, pushing them gently up so they rest on him.

I love this. I love this more than I can say. I love this so deeply that it makes it harder for me to go to sleep, because I’m busy enjoying the feel of his big arms around me, throbbing warmth into whichever bits his sleeping brain reaches for first. The occasional tired moan or snore into my ear. Amazing.

But the other night he didn’t reach for the same places. As I got back into bed, feeling cosy and soft and on the verge of tipping back into sleep, his hand explored downwards. I leant up with my back against his chest, and his right hand ran softly over my stomach, coming to rest in exactly the comforting crotch cup that I use myself. Inside my knickers, with the silk against the back of his hand and his palm up against my skin, he gave a very soft sigh and rested there.

I stayed awake for thirty minutes, trembling slightly, holding myself as still as I could so that he wouldn’t move. The feeling of his hand cupping me felt more intimate, more arousing, more significant than a pinch of my nipples or even a fuck. It was made hotter by the thought that it might have happened before, but neither of us knew it. Touching me in the dead zone between waking and sleep, running his hands over me without knowing where they were going, and warming each other while our minds were dreaming elsewhere.

When he woke up his hand was wet.

10 Comments

  • Mike says:

    I love cupping, the only issue is that, I then become aroused and it turns into more… Hard life.

  • That final sentence of yours, right there. Oh my. “Ungh.” as you would probably put it.

  • Ayame says:

    Loved the story and I generally love your posts.

    I used to like doing this to my partner, but I haven’t really dared to after one unfortunate time. We were in bed, sleeping really comfortable, me behind him with my hand resting on his cock. I think both of us were drifting off to sleep when his cock made this odd little movement, or maybe my partner just moved a little bit, but the result was the same.

    Since I was almost asleep I didn’t really realise what was going on and I just felt something move on my hand, so I panicked (Ok I have a small phobia of creepy crawly things and way too vivid imagination), screamed a bit and pulled my hand off really fast, waking up my partner at the same time.

    I’m not sure which one of us was more scared at that point.

    I’m glad I wasn’t actually holding him, or I might have accidentally castrated the poor boy, and I think that could have had a rather negative impact on our relationship.

    • Girl on the net says:

      Ouch! That sounds bad. Glad there were no injuries. If it makes you feel any better, I once accidentally hit a boy in the face because in the semi-sleep state, his hair on my neck felt like a spider. Profuse apologies and a delicious breakfast followed to make it up to him =)

    • Vida says:

      I always woke up first, and one morning I was stroking him, hoping he’d wake up sleepyhorny and we’d have some action. Instead he grunted, shouted and flailed about, then said in a panicked voice, ‘I dreamt someone was touching my balls!!’

      Er, oops.

  • Lee says:

    While the rest of the blog is awesomely sexy, this page was *mindblowingly erotic*

    Thankyou for sharing <3

  • Ladypandorah says:

    So very often I find myself drifting back to your blog and nodding at recognizable loves, lusts and turn ons between what you write and my own sex life. Reading this post this evening was the icing on the cake!

    Gorgeously written and a situation I’ve had my delightful fair share of that you have captured perfectly with your words.

    Wonderful!

    LadyP xo

  • AJ says:

    I hold my tits all the time. They’re a bit of a novelty really, they’ve only been a reasonable size for the last year or two, so popping a hand under each and just hanging out there feels immensely satisfying.

  • wyrd says:

    it’s lovely, isn’t it. Also, I tend to use my breasts like stress balls when the need arises 💁🏻

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