Waking up slowly
Wanting him
The dream so real
Him holding her so tight
His hands flowing over her body
Touching, caressing
His lips warm and wet, kissing her with such passion
Such tenderness
Her body responding
Aching
Empty
Her breast swelling at the thought of his touch
The nipples hard
Her hips moving as feelings sweep over
The need for him so strong
She touches herself
So wet, so warm
Imagining it's his hand on her
The tightness grows
Becoming pain, a want so bad
It's indescribable
Then the image of him
Erection so hard, standing out from his body
He comes to her
With one hard thrust
Enters her filling the aching emptiness
And her body twists as orgasm grabs her and carries her to the pleasure
that only he gives.
Waking from that kind of dream can be pleasurable or leave you feeling
down. For me, this one was a pleasure. I guess because I didn't leave it
there. Wet dreams are often the precursor of the sexual desire we all
try to keep surpressed during the day, and this one was a doozy. You
know the feeling you get when you've been trying to put off, or postpone
something? How everything gets more intense? Well…
It had been a long time since there had been time for me to think about
anything except work and the day to day problems that we all endure.
That special morning my eyes just didn't want to open. The languor that
gripped my body kept clinging, no matter how much my mind told me it was
time to get up and get going. Darkness still held the quiet room in its
firm grip. The bed was so soft, the cover warm and I was sleepy. Deep
and slow, each breath stirred the lock of hair that had fallen over my
face. Lying there on my back, I could feel the sheet brushing my breasts
as my chest rose and fell. It felt different than normal. The light
cotton had taken on the essence of satin and my nipples began to harden.
They were becoming sensitive, so receptive to the light touch. Tendrils
of awareness drifted from them to other parts of my body making me aware
of an ache, an ache that demanded fulfillment. To ignore that demand was
more than I could do.
I slid my arms under the covers, down into the warm cocoon of body and
cover. My right hand rested on my tummy as the fingers of my left began
an exploration of a breast. The skin was smooth as my fingers brushed
across until I came to the aureole. So soft just before the swelling of
the nipples. My right hand mimicked the left on the other breast, gently
pinching the nubs, tugging, pulling, feeling the shocks that raced from
each to my groin. Nearly painful in intensity, I still couldn't stop.
The pressure built. My eyes remained closed as my thoughts wove a
fantasy, not in words but in pictures. The man of my dreams in flashes
of memories. The way he turned his head to look at me. The sight of his
strong hands as they lay on my creamy flesh. His strong physique, ready
to make love to me, wanting to take me to paradise.
My hands traveled across my belly imitating the moves his hands would
have made. Fingers splayed to touch as much of my body as I could reach;
I paused at my navel to run a fingernail around that depression. Another
shock sped from the contact to my groin, to the secret place that woke
more with each passing minute. I dug my fingertips into my abdomen, just
above the trimmed hair on the mound at the juncture of my legs. My hips
jerked and I knew it was time.
The heat steamed out as my legs parted. It entwined around my fingers
as I touched damp nether lips, slowly slipping one finger between them
into the soft folds that desperately await a touch. I'm definitely wet.
The moisture coated the finger, then two and I started slowly rubbing.
It felt so good, nearly an end in itself. The ache inside grew becoming
more insistent as my fingers journeyed down the folds to the entrance to
my need. I paused there, touching every centimeter of the heated flesh.
The urgency was so great. Two fingers plunged deep inside then withdrew,
dragging a groan from me. I did that again, and again, each time my sex
attempting to grasp them.
The beating of my heart quickened and my breathing became ragged. The
flame in my loins grew to a holocaust of want. Inner thighs quivering, I
knew my time was close.
Fingers withdrew covered with my juices. A quick breath, then using my
left hand, I parted the upper lips exposing my clit. The first two
fingers of my right hand touched that small knob of ecstasy and I
couldn't help the thrusting of my hips. Each stroke was a caressing my
innermost being, setting my whole existence on fire. The drawing deep
within me became waves. Waves of want, of need, a demand for the
ultimate pleasure that will not be denied. I came close, then the waves
receded a slightly. Rubbing harder, the rhythm increased as I drove
myself to the edge, and with a huge surge, liquid rapture was mine. Wave
after wave composed my orgasm and I rode the storm to paradise, to
release, to rest once again.
email
|