It was 8 pm. I lay in bed as I always did lately, except this night was different. I had been reading his stories again. The way his words pressed into my soul causing a heat to build up between my thighs made me insane. I had just finished two of his stories, my eyes roving over every luxurious word as I envisioned him between my lips, aching from lust, his erection pressing and throbbing. Or as he sat leering at my heaving breasts beneath my shirt. It startles me how I am connect to his words after searching for hours for my literary fix.
I tugged at my nipple and in seconds it stood begging for lips to graze it. I writhed about as my eyelids drooped. I could feel the black letters moving over my skin like fingertips. I lay there, my breath catching in short silent gasps. I created images in my mind of him touching my supple flesh, my thighs, my tummy and my long legs. I moaned to myself, wishing he were writing about me. I played out scenes of passion in my head, fantasies of what he could do to me with such beautiful thoughts. In my mind I watch him sleep, touch his lips with my fingertips, lay over him, my breasts just inches from his mouth. He sighs. A breath that tickles my nipples into life. I whisper into his open mouth- "I need you" I slide my body onto his and lay there, feeling his heat that familiar heat that pulses like electricity between my legs a wetness stirs inside of me as blood flows to that part of him that pushes me over the edge.
He reaches out from his slumber, eyes still closed mouth still agape still asleep |I touch my tongue to his chin and trail it down his neck. He pushes his hips up into me, I moan. low and deep. I inch down his torso over his navel to his hips where i can smell his skin and it is calling to me, whispering aching for my touch begging me- "Please"
I pull his boxers over his hips, slowly kissing through the expanse of dark hair, in the light it could be a dirty blonde. The breath of his loins is inhaled into me and I taste it with my lips in short loving kisses. The tip of my tongue comes alive trailing over his shaft, tickling veins that pump vitality through his groin I want to take him deep into my mouth, deep into my aching dripping pussy. I want to fuck him and make love to him simultaneously. I suck him, long, languishing there in his lap. My mouth opens around his thickened flesh.
I suck him in again, faster and faster still, watching his sleeping face as he fucks my mouth. I know he is dreaming of sex. Dreaming of me, because he whispers my name. Quiet and sure- "Ravyn" A yearning inside of me pushes me to his lips and I am hovering. High, like a snowflake falling above him. I lower myself, feeling him stretch into me. Opening me, I haven't been with a man in a while and it hurts to have him inside of me this way. But I love the feeling of having him there, the feeling of his hard erection spreading me as my pussy clamps around him almost sucking him in.
He touches me then, out of his sleep moaning, he is fucking me back, making love to me and I am there now Orgasming with him in side of me, I am calling his name, He is my master, My Lover. He writes into my soul. We are there in this dream world, in this fantasy of innate nymphs, dancing in this forest of lust. I slump into his arms and drift there between sleep and wake. Between sanity and truth. Between his soul and mine. Where our bodies, the two... are one.
This is my lust, and this is my world, mine to have. I open my eyes from my fantasy and re-read his last words over and over again as I try to calm myself enough to breath easier. I lay there, thinking of this author who stirs me so, and I drift off to sleep.