My Dream

We’re sitting in a café. It’s the Starbucks on the outskirts of town. It still has the scent of new paint, which mingles with the rich aroma of coffee. We spent the whole day yesterday together, and plan to do the same today. We’ve been sitting here, talking, for nearly two hours now. Our drinks have gone cold, forgotten in the awe of being together. My shyness has faded. I’ve become relaxed around you; more open, which allows conversation to come easily between us.
We’re supposed to see a movie soon. As we stand to go you explain that you forgot something at your hotel room. We go to my car, and drive the short distance back to where you are staying for the week.
I enter the hotel with you, not wanting us to be apart. I hold your hand as you lead me to your room. The door shuts with a soft click, a quite reminder that we are now alone. I sit wordlessly on the bed as you search through your things for the missing item.
I slip my feet out of the sandals I’m wearing and lay down on the bed. You continue looking a while longer for the elusive object while I watch you. When you finally stop and look at me, I smile.
“Lay with me?” I ask.
You comply, lying in front of me. I prop my head on my hand and smile again. I reach for your hand, wanting to feel it wrap around mine. To know that I’m yours.
“See? I am better about laying down in real life,” I tease, remembering our joke from Warcraft. The sound of your laughter invokes a warm feeling inside me.
You move closer to me, so the lengths of our bodies touch. I look up at you, and after quickly debating what to do, I kiss you; gently pushing my lips to yours. The kiss itself is innocent, but the feelings behind it are far darker.
When I look back into your eyes I see an emotion which makes my knees weak. An emotion, which I too, am feeling. An emotion I want to share with you.
Lust.
I kiss you again, my lips slightly parted. You take advantage of this, pushing your tongue between them; kissing me like I’ve dreamed you would. Your hand releases mine and travels up my arm, across my shoulder, to the back of my head. You unclip my hair, so it falls down like a silky curtain.
I gently bite your lower lip as I pull you toward me, rolling onto my back so you lay halfway over me. I let my hands slide down your chest until my fingers reach the bottom of your shirt. Slowly my hands raise the cloth over your body, revealing your skin. As I slip the marital over your head I kiss your chest. My lips press against your skin lightly, and my tongue sensuously flicks out to taste you.
Our breathing has sped up. You pull away, sitting up so you tower above me. Your hands slip under my t-shirt, inching it up over my pale skin. Your mouth leaves a trail of soft kisses from my belly button all the way to my bra. You haven’t pulled the shirt up over my chest yet. You look at me, as if asking permission. I nod slightly, wanting you to go further.
Your hands pull the shirt the rest of the way up, pulling it over my head, which musses my hair somewhat. I watch your eyes grow darker as you see what I’m wearing.
I wanted to be pretty for you. Not just pretty. I wanted to be sexy. I wanted to be something you couldn’t resist. So I had gone shopping earlier in the week, and bought something special for you. Something only you would see me in. I felt naughty the whole time we were out today, sitting in my normal t-shirt and baggy shorts. I felt dirty knowing that underneath my tomboy clothing I wore such feminine things.
Dark, red satin covers my chest, hugging my breasts tightly. I blush slightly, not use to wearing such clothing. But my discomfort is quickly replaced as your finger tips gently rub against my hardened nipples. I shiver, enjoying the feeling of you touching me. You pinch the hardened flesh between your finger tips, which makes me gasp and arch my back into your hand.
You smile at my reaction, and kiss me deeply. While our tongues thrust against one another, your hands move to the waistband of my shorts, quickly undoing the button and zipper. As you pull the shorts down my legs, the rest of the lingerie set is revealed.
More of the dark satin sits snuggly against the skin between my thighs. I lay still, sort of afraid to move. I hold my breath, hoping you like what I chose for you.
You stay there, kneeling on the bed near my feet, looking at my scarlet clad body. My self consciousness recedes as I realize you like the lingerie.
“Sit up and face the wall,” you order. I obey, quickly positioning myself in the center of the bed.
I feel your hands on my shoulders. The contact makes me shiver in anticipation. They move down my back, to my elbows. You make me raise my arms away from my body, stretching out until they rest on the headboard.
Your hands slide back to my shoulders. They slowly move over my body until they grope my breasts. I lean back against you, wanting more body contact. Wanting to feel your cool skin against mine. I turn my head to the side so that I can kiss you. When our lips meet, I force my tongue into your mouth, wanting you to be rougher; wanting you to take me. But you break the kiss.
You instead, kiss my cheek. My jaw. The kisses move down to my neck, where you start to nibble, forcing soft moans to spill past my lips. Your hands continue to grope me, slowly, gently.
“Please,” I sigh. I love being tortured. I love wanting something and having it dangled in front of me like a treat I have to earn. I want you to be rough. But you hold back, keeping you’re actions controlled, with the faint promise of more to come.
I whimper as your hands move from my breasts to my stomach. You’re finger tips play along the waistband of my panties, barely dipping beneath the material. I toss my head back in frustration when your hands return to my back. I want you to keep touching me, to touch where the satin has grown damp.
I feel you fumbling with the clasp on the bra, and then the tension on my breasts disappears. I slide the bra off my arms, and let it fall to the bed in front of me.
Your hands return, rougher this time. You grope me harder, forcing me to hold back my moans. You lean your body against mine, pushing me forward. I lay against the pillows, offering myself to you, hoping you’ll take me.
Your fingers slide into my panties, so that you cup my rear. Your hand slowly slides further between my thighs, touching me in my most intimate place. I gasp and try to push against your hand. But you pull back, teasing me. I want you inside me; I want you to take me. Yet you continue to rub against the outside of my body with the tips of your fingers.
“Please, Jack. Please,” I beg, but to no avail. You torture me for what seems like eternity.
When you finally slide the cloth down my legs, my want has increased to a need. I’m despite to feel you against me. I need you to take me; to use me. I need you to make me yours.
“Don’t move,” you tell me. And I comply, staying still as I listen to the sounds of you undressing the rest of the way. I bite my lip hard to keep from crying out when I feel your erection pressing into me from behind. You press your chest against my back and gently bite my shoulder. I push against you, trying to force you inside me. But you pull away, denying me. You grab my hips and slowly push against me, but not into me. You tease me with your cock; letting me feel what I need, but not letting me have it.
You torture me, making me think with each thrust that you’ll penetrate into my body. The anticipation builds inside me. I can feel an orgasm forming from the intensity of my desperation for you. Each thrust brings me closer.
I try to hold back, knowing that you’re doing this on purpose. The orgasm is so close to breaking over me. So close to making me cum from your torture.
Suddenly, you shove yourself inside of me.
Just as the orgasm washes over me; shattering me into thousands of pieces, I wake up. I’m gasping, sweating, and alone. I can still feel you from the dream; can still feel you’re body pounding against mine. I bite my pillow so I won’t cry out from the mixed feelings of pain and pleasure. As seconds tick by the pain subsides, and I am left to mourn over the luck I have. As if my heart weren’t betraying me enough, now my body longs for another man as well.
I lay a while longer, thinking over the dream. When I feel like I can stand, I walk over to my computer. It says you’re online, but I know you’re still asleep. I smile, as I type a message to you.
“You evil, wicked, evil person you.”
I know you won’t wake up for a few more hours, so I sit and quietly think about how I should write my dream down. And if, when I am finished writing, you’ll want to read it. After all, it was just a dream. Right?