At a late hour

Tossing and turning in your sleep, you awake to feel an arm draped over your body, your mother's hand splayed across your belly. Beyond that, she is pressed up against you, the silky fabric of her pajama top separating her perky B-cup breasts from your naked back, and one of her knees is nestled between your legs.

You carefully try to scoot over a bit. Having never slept alongside another person since you were a little kid, you found your situation to be a bit claustrophobia-inducing. As you move over a few inches, your mother's hand is pulled off your abdomen and up onto your hip.

You were almost free of her grasp. Carefully sliding over a bit further, you hear her mumbling in her sleep. Her muscular hand clutches your hip and attempts to hold you in place. Shifting in her sleep, Jane rolls over and closes the gap between you once more, her hand sliding off your hip and now resting casually on your naked pussy.

"Mom!" you exclaim in a whisper, trying to somehow get her attention while at the same time not waking her up.

"Mom!" you say a little louder. She mumbles something indecipherable in reply.

"Jane!" you try once more, using her first name. This seems to get her attention, causing her to mumble something again before beginning to move her hand, rubbing clumsily up and down the length of your pussy.

While her movements are imprecise, her actions hardly feel unintentionally. For whatever reason you don't try to call out again, but simply lay still, at first trying to focus your mind on something else.

Of course it was futile, and soon you could feel your juices flowing onto your mother's sleepwalking fingers, coating them in your personal brand of lubricant. Unable to ignore the pleasure you were receiving, you instead focus on it and try to imagine that it's someone else touching you. As you begin to get revved up, you raise one hand to your mouth, biting a knuckle as you cope with the sensations.

As this continues, pleasure turns to frustration. Your arousal plateaus and your pussy is begging to be worked harder, but instead the fingers sliding across your wet pink flesh gradually slow down, and soon come to a stop, still resting against you, teasing you.

You didn't know why you did it, but in the moment, you went ahead and did what felt right. You carefully moved your hand to your crotch, hovering over your mother's hand for a moment before taking hold of it gently.

To some extent, in that moment you expected that your mother would snatch her hand away, perhaps jump out of bed and call you a pervert. But she didn't move. So you tightened your grip on her hand and began to move it, forcing her to drag her fingers along your warm slit.

Working carefully but diligently, you quickly reach and then surpass your previous level of excitement. Your body starts to beg for release as you approach orgasm, your hand clutching your mother's tightly as you work her fingers against you.

Why you didn't just get yourself off, you couldn't say. Perhaps it was the taboo nature of this act that made is so exciting. Or maybe it was the fact that your mother had touched you multiple times of her own accord, perhaps she had unintentionally awoken something in your mind, some incestuous desire which had been buried in your subconscious.

As you found it, achieving orgasm using a sleeping person's hand was not all that easy, and you teetered on the edge of release as you struggled to keep her hand focused in on your clit. With your other hand you began to pinch and roll a nipple, using almost enough **** to hurt your sensitive pencil eraser-sized protrusion. Your breathing became labored and you suppressed your moans for as long as possible. Finally your orgasm began to gather momentum, and whispered expletives escaped your mouth.

"Yes fucking rub my clit mommy!" was the last thing you uttered before your climax crashed down upon you, taking your breath and your words away. You released your tight grip on Jane's hand and let it fall, catching your breath as you bathed in post-orgasmic euphoria.