When I woke up, I was wet.

Not that this was anything unusual for me, since I always wake up horny, but this situation was different. Firstly, because it was only five am, and not the time to be wide awake with the raging horn, and secondly because, not even three hours ago, I had been given the most intense orgasms by the sexy man still lying next to me in my bed.

I looked over at him in the dawn half-light. He seemed to be sleeping, his gentle breathing rhythmically lifting his diaphragm up and down. I watched him for a moment, and pondered what to do.

I considered going to sleep. I was after all, very tired; the session a few hours previously, had drained me a little.

But I was still horny.

I couldn’t understand it: it wasn’t as if the sex we had hadn’t pleasured me – it had – the powerful orgasms he had given me had more than satisfied me, I was deliciously content.

But I was still horny.

I lay there and felt annoyed with myself. Why couldn’t I just be a normal woman? Why did my body have to plague me with this perpetual horniness? Why was I such a sex fiend?

I watched his sleeping face for a moment, and got a flashback of his expression whilst he was in the throes of passion the previous night. I closed my eyes recalling the pleasure that was linked with it as I did so, trying to rest my brain with that image, the beautiful post-coital moment of bliss.

But I was still horny.

I knew that sleep would evade me until I had relieved the pressure between my legs, so I decided to have a quick fiddle.

I slid my hand between my legs and stroked. Jesus I was wet. I couldn’t recall the last time I was that wet; even my thighs were slick with my juices. I rubbed myself as I thought about all the sexy things we had done the night before. I watched his face as I pressed my hand against me, wondering what he might think if he knew I was playing with myself thinking about him.

Suddenly he jumped out of bed. He was awake.

In shock, I turned over, and saw him standing by the end of my bed. For a moment, I thought he was putting on his clothes and was leaving.

My heart sank. Not because it was the first time in my life that a man had left in the morning, but because I was shocked that he would scarper so early. Didn’t he like the sex? Was I too demanding? Or, was it because he knew I had been playing with myself, and was put off by my high sex drive?

He had cramp. He rubbed his leg and then jumped straight back into bed and laid his arm across me.

I am such a neurotic twat.

We lay there for a moment and snuggled. I debated trying to go back to sleep.

But I was still horny.

With his arm touching me, and him being awake next to me, turning me on even more, I knew that there was no hope left: I had to achieve some release.

I slid my hand down between my legs again and told him I was playing with myself.

He lifted the covers, saw what I was doing and moved closer to me, resting his hand on my arse and draping his leg over mine. I couldn’t bear it: I was so close. I needed him. My own hand wouldn’t do it.

So I told him how wet I was.

He slid his hand between my legs and discovered I wasn’t lying. I was dripping wet. And when he pushed his fingers inside me, I felt myself gush onto his hand.

As he deftly worked his fingers in and out of me, I felt him rub himself against my thigh - his cock pushing into my arse cheek - and it turned me on so much: I knew I wouldn’t last long. Within a couple of minutes I was having a mind-numbingly-intense orgasm and as I felt him spurt against my thigh, my body convulsed so much I felt like I was going blind.

We lay there afterwards, both grinning, the post-climatic pleasure still pounding through our veins. And then, the nicest thing of all: he fell asleep. I had felt guilty about all our previous night’s activities preventing him sleep, given he had to be up for work in a few hours. And I was aware that he hadn’t slept well during the night either. So when he started snoring softly after the explosive five am quickie, I felt relieved and happy: at least something good (aside from shagging), can come out of my being such a sex fiend.

Even if I had to sleep in both our wet patches.