Dreams

Ordinarily, I don’t dream. When I am frustrated by one thing or another however…….

Like potters clay my body is molded to fit his form. His weight upon my chest is nothing, all that matters is the tantric pleasure he delivers. Soft hands dance across my flesh, cupping my breasts, spanning my ass, kneading my thighs. His tongue awakening nerve endings and stimulating my soul while thoughts of what I did to deserve this sinful pleasure tumble through my mind.

I fight to grab hold of me but I lose, and relax under his probing…..With a call he had beckoned me to his bed, his request simple, “Can I make love to you?” Six words woven together….a profound tapestry, and which woman doesn’t like the sound of her name on a man’s lips. As he approaches the door, I step back and drink in the sight of him, his presence, that smile. I fight the urge to have him just stand there and flex, nothing would have pleased me more than to see his body on show, just for me…at least for that night. In wife beater and jeans, barefoot, smoky…he was beautiful.

My approach was welcomed as I took his cheeks between my palms and brought my mouth down to get a taste of his. His immediate response was…unmistakable. Hypnotized by his bulging biceps, the cushion of his chest, the hint of cologne, the power he represented, I placed my trust in him to make me feel, and I knew he was equal to the task.

“I want to taste you.” Five words was all it took to un-dam the river.

As usual the first strokes of his coarse tongue on the pink, wet, delicate flesh were too intense… and he held my hips in place as I tried to wriggle free and up the length of the bed. “Stay”. A muffled threat, the “or else” needn’t be said.... Hungry he seemed, devouring and unwrapping the gift with expert ease. Each thrust in and out built a roaring lioness' groan but my climax was dashed each time for he wanted to prolong the wanting. Watching and waiting intensely as I rose my hips to meet his Cheshire smiling lips….Frustration sets in.

“More”, a low whimper, a plea really, escapes me and he cools the fire with his breath, blowing, soothing….I descend only to be hoisted once again. On the third attempt, when the abuse left swollen labia and clit I held his head in place….the power table shifts. I coach him with rotating hips, slow circular thrusts… "don’t fucking move…. let me fuck you” a whisper intended to eek out my full release.

I am afflicted by spasms and he doesn’t relent…a fight ensues to rip his pleasure trove away from my body...... “Ssstop….tttoo intense”. Him nodding no sends thrills to the pit of my stomach and another eruption charges free…I am spent. Convulsing uncontrollably, I flay my hands wildly until he shows mercy and leaves me be. Quivering, the heat from his hovering body teasing my nipples, I fight a losing battle for control again….Aaaaaaaaaahhh.