I Forgot What Time It Was That Night - soft erotic story

Soft Erotic Story

The night began unhurriedly. As the noise of the day gradually faded, the room was enveloped in a different kind of silence. I felt the presence of the clock, but I didn't feel the need to look at it. It would soon lose its meaning anyway.

The window was ajar; the coolnessfrom outside slightly altered the air inside. This change was subtle yet undeniable. While everything seemed ordinary in the first minutes of the night, I felt an uncertain anticipation. I didn't know what would happen ; I only sensed that the night would behave differently than the day .

As the lights dimmed, the boundaries in the room softened. Objects lost their sharpness, shadows became bolder. The direction of my gaze shifted; I focused more on feelings than details.

I knew he was beside me. Without speaking, without letting him know… As the distance shortened, time slowed down even more. For a moment, I considered looking at the clock, but I changed my mind. Because at that moment, it wasn't a time to count the minutes. With the lights dimmed, words were unnecessary.

We were side by side, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. On the contrary, it was the kind of silence that conversation would break. The rhythm of our breaths defined the distance between us. I understood then that closeness was possible even without movement. It wasn't our bodies that drew closer, but our thoughts. Every second that passed in silence was tearing something away from the clock. Was time flowing, or had it stopped? I could no longer tell. The only thing I knew was that that night couldn't be contained within hours.

At a certain point, the flow of the night changed. The clock was ticking by, but it didn't feel like it was moving. Everything seemed heavy; thoughts, glances, even breaths. The measure of time was broken.

Details that would normally go unnoticed took on meaning. A slight movement, a slight change of direction… They were all felt intensely. At that moment, I sensed that the night had reached an irreversible point. Time had slowed down because there was nothing left to rush.

The distance between us narrowed imperceptibly. There was no conscious move, no clear decision. Only our breaths were closer now. When I felt we shared the same air, an indescribable warmth welled up inside me. The silence deepened, but it wasn't empty. On the contrary, it was full. Each breath took the place of unspoken sentences. That distance was too thin to describe in words; it wasn't a step, it was a feeling.

There are moments that need no explanation. That night, we were in exactly such a place. Our eyes met briefly, then consciously looked away. But the deal had already been made.

There was no need to speak; everything that could be said was already felt. In that silent agreement, time completely faded away. It wasn't the time that mattered, but where the night led. And I didn't want to question it.

At a certain point, the clock became merely an object. It was there, but it meant nothing. I couldn't tell if the minutes were ticking by or dissolving into the night. At that moment, I realized that time wasn't measured. What I felt was more of a state than a duration. It wasn't how long it lasted, but how it felt that mattered. Where the clock lost its meaning, the night itself began to speak.

A brief thought crossed my mind: “I can get up now.” But the thought vanished the moment it arose. Returning was perhaps an option, but not a necessity. At that moment, I realized I hadn’t made a decision. Because some moments don’t require decisions. You just stay in them. At that point in the night, I didn’t consider returning. Because I was already somewhere else.

There was still time until morning. This thought reminded me that I shouldn't rush. The night still had things to say, and I was ready to listen.

Before the lights changed, before the sounds returned… everything was in its place. That night was a night to remember not the hours, but the feelings. And I would never forget it, no matter what time it was.

The silence wasn't broken; on the contrary, it lengthened. It was as if the night didn't want us to speak. Everything was in its place: the atmosphere of the room, the distance between us, that indescribable feeling swirling inside me.

We stood there for a while, doing nothing. But this stillness wasn't empty. Silence is sometimes the most intense form of contact. I learned that that night. As time passed, that silence became familiar. The idea of leaving stopped lingering in my mind.

At some point, I realized: we weren't as distant as before. This didn't happen overnight. There was no sudden movement or noticeable change. The closeness simply arose spontaneously.

At that moment, I felt our thoughts approaching before our bodies. Inside me, there was a calm but deep wave. There was no haste. No rush. Just the night slowly drawing us into its own rhythm.

The clock briefly crossed my mind again. But it wasn't a need to check; it was more of an awareness. Time was still ticking, yes. But I no longer had the desire to catch up with it.

That night, I learned the difference between letting time pass and chasing it. I may have remembered what time it was, but I didn't care. Because at that moment, remaining within the night was more meaningful.

Every night leaves something behind when it ends. This night didn't leave behind a memory that was hastily erased. Rather, it left behind a feeling that lingered within me.

It's something that can't be contained in a complete sentence, nor can it be transformed into a clear memory... It's just something I know is there. And as morning approached, I realized that feeling would stay with me.

Morning didn't come as I expected. The light didn't suddenly fill the room; it seeped in slowly. The feeling left by the night still lingered. I stayed on that thin line between waking and not waking for a while. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I thought about wasn't the time. Time felt like something that needed to be remembered again, but it wasn't a priority. The night was over, perhaps, but its effect still remained.

They say daylight makes everything clearer. But there are moments when clarity is unnecessary. That morning, the light only altered the details; not the feelings.

The silence of the night was gone, but the intimacy it had created was still felt. Speaking didn't feel necessary again. Sometimes words make time move forward too quickly.

I thought about what remained of that night. Some moments were clear, others deliberately blurry. I didn't choose which ones I wanted to remember; the night chose. soft erotic story

I honestly couldn't remember what time it was. But that didn't feel like a deficiency. On the contrary, I understood that the night couldn't be measured in hours.

The day continued. The sounds from outside reminded me that life was going on as usual. But something inside me still belonged to the night. That night had transcended the clock. And I chose to keep that transcending time hidden within me.