Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
The dream comes often. It is never quite the same, but it is the dream, nevertheless. One thing always happens in the dream. Always.
In the dream she is:
She believes in herself and her abilities. The decisions she makes are good, and the consequences of those decisions are positive. Aggressive people don’t disturb her – she deals with them directly and forcefully, if necessary.
Her evening gown is stunning and draws the attention of everyone in the room, not for its design, but for the way it fits to her body, teasing, tantalizing, clinging and flowing. Her hair and makeup are simple but perfect for the occasion. She walks with grace, barefoot or in 6 inch heels, never tripping, stumbling or wobbling. A simple, one-piece bathing suit, everyday cotton underwear, a business suit – it all flatters her – and arouses others.
Her manner is impeccable. She is friendly but appropriately reserved. There remains just enough mystery about her, just enough question about who she really is, to fascinate those around her.
She is aware of the erotic potential in every action and interaction and acts accordingly. At work she is discreet and confident, her eroticism confined to the occasional glimpse of the lace of her camisole, the occasional seamed stocking, heels just a fraction of an inch taller than necessary. At very most an erect nipple visibly presses against the silk of her blouse.
At play her attitude ranges from pure and chaste to experienced courtesan. She knows and uses the power of a simple t-shirt, shorts and a freshly shaved pair of legs. Her favorite evening gown is heavy silk in a deeply jeweled tone of green. It clings provocatively to her body and cannot be worn with any underwear. At Mardi Gras she is the girl with hundreds of strings of beads, confidently flashing her breasts. She is the canvas for an artist and attends an elegant party given by a corporate executive clad in nothing but paint, the other guests never daring to look closely enough to see the thin line of moisture seeping from her vulva.
She orgasms easily and frequently, but only when she decides it is time. She arouses, and is aroused by, both men and women. Her caresses bring trembles, her tongue running over the tip of a penis or clitoris brings deep, guttural moans. She is endlessly inventive, yet simple and direct. A quick blowjob for an old friend is never out of the question. She takes it in the ass. She makes love, she fucks, she melds her mind and body with those of her lovers. Her best orgasms come when her lover is in her ass.
In real life she is:
She rarely starts a conversation or interrupts.
Calling someone on the phone is difficult. She makes wallflowers look vibrant.
The sexiest underwear she owns is a simple black front-closing bra and a red silk thong she bought in a moment of passion. The rest of her underwear is simple. Cotton bikinis. Department store bras – all white except for the black one and a beige one. She wears bras only to be discreet and hide her occasionally erect nipples. Even at 35 she still has no need for the support of a bra, except, perhaps, when she is working out or playing sports. Her breasts, barely 34 b, are firm and placed high on her chest, with small brown nipples.
At 5′ 5″, 125 lbs, with brown eyes, she is rarely noticed. She wears her brown, just shy of shoulder-length hair with bangs and a ponytail most of the time. Her clothes don’t reveal her body – skirts usually reach at least the top of her knees. Her blouse is usually buttoned to the top button. She doesn’t own an evening gown. The highest heel she owns is two inches.
She tries not to draw attention to herself. At work she is competent and friendly, but far from the first to suggest anything. She occasionally goes out on a Friday night with a group from work, but hasn’t recently. She volunteers for a local food bank, but does not socialize with the people there.
She has had sex in the past and now masturbates regularly, but she has no current lover and hasn’t dated in at least a year. The only thing that has ever been in her ass is a finger…once. She liked it but it has never been repeated.
The dream is:
At one moment she is in a board meeting, dressed severely in a black suit with a dazzlingly white blouse, presenting the details of a multi-billion dollar merger.
A moment passes and she’s in a college dorm room, studying quietly while her roommate lies naked on the floor, masturbating with a rabbit vibrator while being watched by two boys from the floor below, both of whom are also naked and masturbating.
In yet another moment she’s in a luxury suite in a foreign hotel, dressing for a rendezvous with an ambassador.
The she is a girl in her parent’s home, sitting quietly at the breakfast table in her flowered flannel nightgown, robe and bunny slippers, watching her father read the paper.
Every time she bahis firmaları has the dream she sees herself on a beach with an old friend, naked, on her hands and knees, staring at the sea, her nipples grazing the sand, her body heated and trembling in orgasm as he thrusts his cock savagely into her ass.
She takes risks she never would in real life. She makes love freely and wantonly, with friend and stranger alike. She confronts her boss, the rude waitress, the teenager acting out in the subway – always successfully, but with a force with which she is unfamiliar in real life. She is shot at in an alleyway in a small village in a foreign country. She rides in her sister’s car in a military parade. She flashes her breasts at college boys as she walks across an unfamiliar campus. She speeds away from a police car down a dark country road.
Usually confused, knowing that she’s had the dream, even when the specific details have changed. Sometimes her nightgown is missing, bunched in a heap by her side, and she cannot remember having removed it. A few times a pillow has been clutched between her legs, the damp stains revealing that the arousal in the dream was more than just in her imagination.
Her eyes flutter open, and she is aware that she is deeply aroused. Her nipples are erect and ache, each touch of her linen nightgown sending little shocks of pleasure deep into her breasts and beyond. Her vulva is swollen and full, her clitoris erect and throbbing, demanding attention. Moisture flows from her vagina.
Hastily she pulls her nightgown over her head and discards it. Lying face down, she stuffs a pillow between her legs and begins to rub against it, sliding her vulva roughly up and down its length. The tension builds.
Her eyes close and she continues to thrust against the pillow. She can see him, naked, erect, lying under her. In her mind she mounts him, spreading herself open for his cock, sliding down quickly over him, thrusting against him and grinding her clitoris against the wiry hair covering his pubis. She kneels, imitating her vision, thrusting and rubbing against her pillow.
The orgasm comes quickly. The first contractions almost hurt, and then the waves of pleasure run through her body. She quivers and shakes, still thrusting against the pillow, drawing out every moment. She is quiet for no more than a minute when a second orgasm creeps over her and overtakes the first, the contractions flowing more gently this time, the pleasure soft and deep. She is warm and flushed, not sure if she is still dreaming or not.
Thirty minutes later she rises from the bed, the sheets and blankets jumbled and wet, her pillow a damp lump. Usually these sessions relax and fulfill her. Today she is restless.
Her only indulgence occurs Saturday mornings at the spa, once each three weeks. A facial, waxing, a massage, her hair done. She has every part of her body waxed – her legs, under her arms, her vulva, even around her anus. In real life this is her only visible concession to the erotic – being as smooth and hairless as the models on the runways. Today is one of her indulgent Saturdays. She dresses and makes a quick breakfast.
As she eats she realizes she is still restless, still disturbed by some indefinite desire. Masturbating did no good. The image of her being sodomized on the beach plays through her mind. Her anus convulses as she imagines a cock thrusting deep inside her.
She goes to the spa, but the treatments, which usually relax her, just arouse her further. For a reason she cannot understand she has subtle red highlights added to her hair.
As she dresses she notices her nipples are firm and erect, chafing inside her cotton bra. Her vulva is swollen, and she is on the verge of lubricating. The scene in the dream of her and her lover on the beach, his cock deep in her ass, keeps flashing in front of her mind.
For reasons of which she is not sure she drives to an exclusive boutique and buys new lingerie. Things she does not wear in real life. A black bra, silk, cut low and almost transparent. A matching thong and garter belt. Black, seamed, silk hose. A short, black, silk slip, almost transparent.
She further indulges herself, moving on to another shop and selecting a short, black silk dress with a provocative slit that will show her garter if she sits just so. Then shoes, four-inch heels, patent leather, black as midnight and with long, pointed toes.
On Saturday nights for the last year she has spent the evening alone, masturbating, beginning first with a long, relaxing bath, then rubbing lotion all over her body. She spends the evenings nude, only donning a robe to answer the door for the pizza delivery – a scandalous risk. It fell open once…and the same delivery man has come back ever since. After eating she lights the candles on her dresser and carefully chooses a toy, or toys, or not, and then pleasures herself, rubbing, stroking, thrusting…each Saturday is different, but every Saturday kaçak iddaa ends with at least one, and usually several orgasms.
This Saturday she has an event to attend – a reception.
In preparation she bathes – a long, deep soak in a tub full of bubbles. She masturbates while in the tub – twice. The orgasms only arouse her further. She is still thinking of the dream. Her body quivers.
Rising from the water she dries herself gently and then massages lotion into her skin. When she finishes her body is soft and glowing. She does her makeup, then dresses – the silk garments sliding provocatively, arousingly, over her body. She is on the verge of lubricating. Another quiver runs through her…it is almost, but not quite, an orgasm.
She drives to a reception – a small event for a local politician running for re-election. At these events she usually sits quietly in a corner, rarely attracting attention until asked for the contribution.
Tonight is different. She is the woman in the dream, acting with strength and confidence. Her dress attracts glances. The new bra holds breasts high and firm, her nipples harden when someone’s glance lasts a bit longer than it should. She sits so the slit in her dress falls open: her stocking top and garter are just visible to those who dare look.
An old friend, a once potential but never realized lover, sits with her.
As in the dream, tonight she is elegant and slightly mysterious. With little touches and glances, a confident word spoken quietly, she stirs his desire.
After the reception they go to dinner. The tablecloths drape to the floor. She slips off a shoe, and slides her foot up and down his calf as they eat. He looks deep into her eyes.
She invites him to follow her to her home.
At her house:
She slips out of her heels as she walks in the door, and indicates that he should remove his loafers as well.
She leads him into the living room, pulls his jacket off of him and loosens his tie. She steps close and embraces him, then kisses him…long, slow, soft, her tongue exploring his mouth. Pushing him down onto the couch she stands in front of him. Quietly she reaches behind herself and unzips her dress, then pulls it over her head and tosses it on a chair. Her slip follows, and he stares, intently.
She kneels in front of him. Reaching forward, she undoes his belt and unfastens his pants. He lifts his hips and she slides them down and pulls them off. She pulls off his socks, and then his boxers. His erection tents his shirt tail.
She blows gently on it, and it twitches.
She stands and bends over him, undoing his shirt buttons. He reaches out and unsnaps her garters. She sighs, and he reaches behind her and unfastens the clasp of her bra. She slips the shirt from his shoulders. He slips the bra from hers. She steps back and holds her leg out. He slides the stocking from first one, then the other leg, then unfastens the garter belt from her waist. When he finishes, she slips her hands under the waistband of her thong and slides it off.
He stands and they embrace. The shock of his cool, dry skin against hers arouses her. His penis, erect, presses against her stomach. She feels herself lubricate and her vulva beginning to swell and open.
Their kiss is long, soft and deep. Hands roam, exploring bodies. She strokes his tight ass. He caresses her left breast and then fondles her nipple, pinching it into erection. Again she sighs.
Stepping back from him she grabs his erect cock and leads him into the bedroom. Pulling back the sheets, she pushes him onto the bed. His cock juts from his crotch, blonde curls surrounding its base.
He tries to sit up and reach for her but she pushes him back and then straddles his chest.
“Eat me!” she demands, shuffling forward until her vulva is above his mouth. She reaches down, grabs his hair, and pulls his mouth to her.
He does as commanded, his tongue sliding up and down the length of her hairless vulva. Another sigh escapes her lips. She shifts and his tongue pushes into her, lapping, probing, sliding across the tender tissues of her pussy. She grinds down against him.
He reaches up and grabs her ass, holding her just above his mouth. His tongue finds her clitoris and teases it, sliding around and around it, barely brushing the tip. Her body jerks.
She grabs her breasts and begins to massage them. She can feel the tightening in her groin that signals an orgasm is approaching.
“More!” she demands. She leans forward, gripping the headboard.
He licks her clitoris directly now. This orgasm will come fast, she realizes. She concentrates on his tongue as it sweeps across her swollen clitoris.
His tongue moves faster, lashing her clitoris. She feels it pull back in under its hood, but he is insistent, his tongue probing, licking, faster and faster.
“Oh, yesssss…” she sighs. Everything tightens, and then the release is there, her groin pulsing as the first orgasm runs through her.
She arches up, pushing kaçak bahis hard against his face. He is still licking her. Finally, the last tremors of her orgasm slip through her, and it is over.
She collapses and slides down on top of him. His mouth finds her nipple. He sucks, gently.
She indulges in the pleasure, but only for a moment. She wants something more.
She slides her body further down his. Her pussy slides the length of his cock. He trembles. She slides herself back up his length and then down. She wants him inside her. Now.
Reaching between them, she takes hold of his cock. She lifts her hips and positions him at her entrance. Slowly, teasingly, tantalizingly she slips down over him. Her vagina stretches around his hardness. She slows her descent even more, all of her attention focused on the friction of his penis sliding across her membranes. Finally she is there, filled with his hardness, her vulva pushed hard against his wiry curls.
Gently she begins to rock. Her clitoris pushes against his pubis. She pulls his head to her breasts and he suckles, teasing her nipples into erection. Her arousal builds, her breasts swelling and tender, her groin beginning to tighten. She moves faster against him, thrusting herself down and around him, then sliding up quickly only to thrust downward just before he slips out of her.
She falls backward, pulling him on top of her. Their rhythm does not cease. He feels bigger now. Their lips crushed together, she sucks is tongue into her mouth where it wrestles with hers.
She is at a plateau. He is moving hard and steadily within her, her hips moving up to meet his thrusts.
It is not enough.
The dream returns. She is on the beach.
In her mind she tells herself she can’t, she mustn’t. It’s too much.
She tries to focus. To feel his cock as it slides deep within her. To feel the sensations streaming from her clitoris.
It is not enough.
She is aware of her anus. It is opening and relaxing. It tingles.
She can’t. She has never. Only in the dream.
But tonight she is the dream.
He thrusts harder.
She is the dream.
She is the dream.
She is the dream.
She stops him, and as he slips out of her she feels empty. He is confused.
“In my ass,” she tells him, then reaches into her nightstand and retrieves a bottle of lubricant, up until now only used to anoint one of her toys.
She hands it to him and then positions herself on her hands and knees.
He covers his cock with the lube. She looks behind her and sees it, held tightly in his fist, red, hard and glistening.
“Put some in me,” she demands.
She feels his finger nudge against her anus and then the cool lube pouring over it. His finger slips inside, more easily than she expected.
“More,” she tells him.
A second finger slides in next to the first. He pushes more lube deep inside her.
“Now your cock,” she asks.
His fingers slip out of her, and, a moment later, she feels the head of his cock push against her anus.
“I am the dream,” she tells herself.
His cock nudges against her anus.
“Wait,” she tells him.
She pushes back against him.
“I am the dream,” she repeats to herself.
She pushes harder against him.
“I am the dream.”
She pushes even harder, forcing the ring of muscle in her ass to open.
She wills herself to relax. The pain is still there.
“I am the dream.”
The head is inside her.
“Wait,” she tells him.
He stays still.
She wills herself again to relax. The pain lessens.
She pushes back against him, sliding over him. She feels his testicles nestle against her pussy. She has never felt so full.
“Oh god,” he moans. “So tight.”
“Fuck me,” she demands. “Fuck my ass.”
He pulls out and then slides forward. The pain is still there, but the pleasure is beginning.
She moans. He pulls out and slides in again. And again.
The pain is gone.
“More,” she asks, quietly.
He moves in and out of her rhythmically. He reaches under her and begins to massage her clitoris.
She pushes back against him. He feels good inside her.
“A little faster,” she asks. He moves faster, pushing into her rhythmically. His fingertip gently strokes her clit.
They move together in rhythm. He increases the pace a bit. She moans.
This is what her body has wanted all day long.
He moves into her steadily. He does not tire. His cock inside her ass. Over and over again. His finger rubbing, caressing her clit.
The warmth starts in her toes. It moves up her body. She flushes with the heat. Her breasts are engorged, her nipples hard and aching. She feels a bead of sweat form and slide down her back.
It will be soon.
She can hardly breathe. What breath she has comes in short, sharp pants. The muscles in her groin begin to contract. She feels herself tighten around his cock.
He moans. “So tight, so tight.” But he keeps moving into her, steadily, over and over again. His finger rubs and rubs.
She feels as though she is on fire. Just a little more.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32