MSD: Night Twelve - her side...
She kicked her apartment door open far enough to sway through it, keys dangling in the lock as she breathed the familiar air. She kept her outlets filled with those plug things in her favorite scent, Warm Vanilla Sugar. Mmm, she thought in her impaired state, I love coming home. Not that she didn’t enjoy going out; she wasn’t necessarily a party animal, but she could hold her own on a group outing. It was just that in the last handful of days, her time alone had been spent pondering the mystery of her dreams. She had begun keeping a dream journal about a week into it, just to see if there were any similarities, any unifying facts, any hint as to who this man was and why this was happening to her. All she knew so far was that he was handsome, not in a Wrangler-butted, dirty cowboy way, nor was he a preppy, up-scale business type. Hell, he wasn’t even big-brother-of-your-best-friend-during-your-teenage-years adorable. But he was. He was all of those things in one fine deep brunet, sweet green-eyed, winsome-smiled, Grand-Canyon-dimpled, muscled-but-not-body-builder-big package. Oh, and what a package, she couldn’t help herself from thinking as that last round of mojitos kicked in, hard. As she’d left her office that afternoon, hurrying home to her cozy oasis to dwell on the mystery of her REM-state love life, she’d been stopped by a group of co-workers headed to the corner bar for some happy hour relaxation. Even though, and maybe because, her mind had been working over-time, she thought, Maybe, just maybe, this isn’t a coincidence. I should go… And off she went, sitting around, discussing the social and economic ramifications of the latest tragedy to hit the nation and the undeniably downward spiral of the state of the world today. The conversation sounded pretentious, probably, high-brow to be sure, but when mixed with alcohol, everything made sense. Of course, four hours and not so few drinks later, she was sitting on her couch, heels askew on the floor, stockinged legs propped on the cushions, videos playing on the TV, and she remembered. She remembered the sensation of someone watching her while she debated the status of poverty level and the disappearing middle-class with the balding, chauvinist pig from two cubicles down. She’d done the glance-around thing, like she was trying to get a second opinion on her opinion, but she couldn’t see anyone watching her, no one from the few groups of society cross-section; a couple of older men, looked like regulars, talking with the bartender and playing a couple of those bar video games; a table full of business suits doing just what she and her friends were, letting loose of the office; more than a handful of people throwing darts for their weekly competition night. So she ignored it… until it felt like she was being penetrated by someone’s eyes. On her couch, she sighed… that was the word for it, she had felt penetrated, had actually felt herself getting wet, her lips open and her walls tighten in preparation for… penetration. Her mind clouded, not entirely due to the intoxication, then cleared. He was in the room with her. She sat up, unheeding of her black pinstriped skirt that rode up her thighs to show the tops of her nude thigh-highs and ignorant of the fact that her white satin blouse was gaping open to just below the silver lace detail on the front of her bra. He smiled as he knelt down before her, that smile that says Oh, the naughty things I’m going to do to you.
I was watching you.
His hand slid up from her ankle the length of her leg, ending at just the top of stocking, fanning across, and brushing the very sensitive skin of her inner thigh before making his way back down and repeating on the other side.
How can anyone be so intelligent and so unbelievably hot at the same time?
He leaned forward and replaced his hand with his mouth, kissing every few inches, lingering on that creamy skin normally covered by cloth, working back down, but not before he used his tongue to caress the indention in the back of her knee. It was him at the bar, she mentally smacked her forehead. I knew it! But her little tirade at herself was interrupted by his hands tucking under her thighs and lifting, putting her cheeks at the edge of the cushion.
I have dreamed of this…
Her skirt wasn’t in the way, because it was around her waist. The white and silver panties moved to the side so easily, they must have wanted what was coming as much as she did. When his mouth was close enough for her to feel him exhale, her legs opened, fell outward to allow him access. And when his tongue made its first sweep up the length of her, she let loose the breath she’d been holding for what felt like an eternity. Slowly, slowly, he parted her with both tongue and fingertips, his breath so hot against her skin, he seemed the proverbial dragon. He was certainly patient, worrying the center of her tension with the point of his tongue with perfect strength and consistency, until he decided to tease her and enter her creaming chasm to keep her in anticipation of the near future before returning his wet mouth to continue its productive torture. As her orgasm built, her breathing became shallow and she had to fight the urge to close her eyes. The sight of him between her legs, the rasp of his five-o-clock shadow, the feel of his soft hair, Only guys have hair that soft no matter how many products women use, was just what she’d been waiting for. It was too much, and mere seconds before she would lose control of her body, he pulled away,
Wait for me…
He pulled her off the couch, on to his kneeling form, her legs wrapped around him so that there was no space between their bodies. His hands eased her shirt over her head and pulled her to him, her face in his neck as his was in hers. She let her tongue wander across the expanse of scented skin, lapping and licking her way to that spot where shoulder and neck converge and then pulling a mouthful of him in, sucking gently with a hint of force until she felt him take his cue and return the favor on the other side. In the midst of this, he adjusted her seat until his cock, impossibly hard and throbbing with the beat of his heart, was between them. She broke off the kiss and looked into the question in his eyes.
Do you want to go on?
That he would even ask was proof to her of his sincerity. In response, she shifted herself, up and then down, so wet that no extra motion was needed. The heat from his skin entering her was unbelievable; she felt like she was burning from the inside as she slid down, enveloping his pulsing shaft until the head was bumping her cervix and her clit was pressed against his pelvic bone. Lord have mercy, she thought, I have never been this full…
Just wait, it gets better…She heard the laughter, the smile and the truth in his voice.
Did I say that out loud? But then she didn’t care so much as he reached around and took her ass in his hands. He rotated her in small circles on his dick, her legs wrapped around his waist to cross under his butt, holding her to him so that there was no way to pull back, no way to get the motion of withdrawal and the sensation of him plunging back in. She clung to him as the stimulation on her nerve center began to finish the job that his tongue had started. Her orgasm remembered where it had been interrupted and rapidly climbed back to that pinnacle, spurred by his movements. She threw her head back, enjoying the depth and stretching feeling.
You are so tight. I could be in you forever.
At this point, the idea of forever sounded terrific, but her body had other ideas. Her eyes flew open, her muscles tightened, her breathing stopped…
Look at me. I want to see your eyes while you come…
Better be looking now… Her breath exploded from her in the form of a long moan. Her body vibrated with the force of her orgasm. His hands took her by the waist, pulled her as far onto him as possible,
Oh, my God, you are incredible. The fullness increased as he poured himself in her depths. She slumped forward, her head resting on his shoulder, his cheek pressing against her breast, the remnants of his hardness twitching inside her making her clench in return. That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt, he kissed her nipple ever so lightly and looked up at her.
Back at you, she giggled, still intoxicated, but now on heat and sex. I can’t believe this is true. She closed her eyes and held on…
When she woke up a little while later, videos still on the TV, shoes still in the floor, she was no longer on the couch, but laying in the floor where he had been in her dream. This is getting out of control, she chided herself as she pulled herself up using the arm of the couch. Just then, she realized that her shirt was laying on the wing chair and her skirt was around her waist. As she stood, the wetness between her legs had soaked her panties and run down to the tops of her stockings. It was just a dream, right?
