Dreams Can Come True

Lets see. Sweaty palms, dry mouth and butterflies in the stomach. Fear. All symptoms present and accounted for. To help dispel the nervous tension, I got up and walked around the hotel room one more time. It hadn’t changed. I checked the camera – still fully charged. Then my watch one more time. Five minuets. Five minuets and either one of the best nights of my life will begin... or one of the greatest disappointments. Will she come? Will my electronic stranger, my horny Sheila take that final step, run the ultimate risk?

She of the dirty words and hot ideas. The hot wet pussy and the tight brown ass. The siren who wanted me to cum in her mouth and ass. We had met two months ago, exchanging hot erotic emails over the net. A secretive Indian girl with a straight?laced family... who logged on secretly, late at night, to talk dirty with a stranger. To ask for photo’s of his cock and his cum, and delighted in the idea of being wanked over.

Upload: If you choose to upload your story, it should be uploaded as a plain text file with a file name ending in ".txt" if possible. If your story has bold or italics and you need to upload a MicrosofWhat was I doing here? But… how could I not be. An attractive, horny girl was making promises my body and mind could not resist. Should I be guilty? My partner would be upset and distraught by what I contemplating… but then again, she was not helping her cause. A strong?minded Cantonese widow who liked vanilla, rose tinted, romantic sex. Anal sex was a total no no. Oral sex? She loved it. Being on the receiving end – and would lie for hours with her legs open... but so plainly disliked giving me that pleasure, that it lost its appeal. She may have reluctantly sucked my cock, but would not entertain the idea of letting me cum in her mouth. Speaking to her about sex was difficult, almost impossible. To her, sex was fundamentally “dirty”, and although I knew I could demand, or even force her, it was not me. I was not that kind of person. Her attitude was if I wanted that kind of sex, I should find someone else. She meant on a permanent basis, not the temporary one I had in mind.

Just excuses? Maybe… but I had known that kind of sexual relationship, had enjoyed that kind of sex. I suppose it was also the seat of my attraction to Asian/Indian girls. My ex had been a dark eyed, warm skinned, Indian girl who had shared all my sexual awakenings and almost half of my life. She was ten years gone, and I missed her on a daily basis. A wound that would not heal, an itch I could not scratch. A memory that grew stronger with the passing of time. Now, under the pretext of a ‘boys’ night out’, I had booked a hotel room and anxiously awaited her arrival.

t Word (.doc) or a Rich Text (.rtf) file, you can do so, but you cannot preview it online and it may take slightly longer to be posted because we must process .doc and .rtf files manually. If you have questions or concerns, pleaI paced the length of the room. My nervousness grew as the appointed time drew closer. Would it have been easier to find a prostitute? No… not that. I have nothing against the professionals, the working girls. On the contrary – I have paid for sex, very good sex, before now. But only after I had got to know the girls. Thai girls worked red light bars during my time in the army. Over time I had come to know a few, over the weak drinks they skilfully tempted out of us. I have never, despite my best intentions, managed a one?night stand, or a cold transaction of money and fuck me now. I suppose it is a matter of confidence. I needed to know a person, develop that confidence I needed to sleep with them. It sounds trite, but I am shy around women. Fear of failure? Fear on not meeting expectations? I don’t know how else to phrase it. So why was tonight going to be any different? Sex is the most vulnerable, trusting thing that you can do with another human being. And Sheila was a stranger… but no, I knew her innermost thoughts. I knew she wanted to feel a cock in her ass, and enjoyed the taste of semen in her mouth. I knew that the idea of photographing her naked body, taking pictures of her having sex turned her on… A knock on the door, and my heart was in my mouth. My knees felt weak and I stumbled in my haste to reach the doorknob. A deep breath. Open the door. The grainy, electronic image had done her a disservice. Young, a little over half my age. Her eyes, large and dark, four inches below my own. Slim, fit looking… altogether daunting. Any anticipatory erection I had developed awaiting her arrival was long gone. Long, straight hair and an engaging if slightly nervous smile. She was gorgeous, and without thinking, told her so. The smile grew broader, and a dimple appeared.

“Thank you.” An eyebrow raised quizzically. “Are you going to let me in.... or do we start in the hallway?”

“God! Sorry... please...” and waved her into the room. Idiot! I cursed myself. Stop apologising. Stop sounding like a moonstruck teenager. There was a momentary hesitation, magnified by my own paranoia. Stop thinking so much! She stepped into the room, brushing past me. A delicate scent of exotic femininity filled my nostrils. She scrutinised the room. I saw her nod as she spotted the camera. From behind I studied her tantalising form. The short black dress, slim legs and firm curve of a shapely behind. My lost erection stirred. I bit back the desire to speak. To ask her why she was here. She was here to be fucked, just like she said on the net. Don’t jinx it. Don’t scare her away. Don’t blink in case she vanishes in a puff of smoke.

She turned, arms wide, with a “what do you think” expression. I broke my recently formulated rule and risked one more clarification.

“You really are quite beautiful”. The subtext, of course, was 'are you really sure that this is where you mean to be?' That dimple appeared again. God – how can any sane man argue with a dimple!

“Thank you once again.” Her voice was quiet, but quite distinct. Educated, controlled. “Are we going for plan A, B or would you rather have C?”

It took a moment for my befuddled mind to sort out what she referred to. I hope I did not blush. Being forward and horny on a keyboard is not the same as standing a few feet from sexual perfection. She had asked me to tell her what I would do if this night happened. What would I do if we ever met?… and I had formulated three scenario’s, confessing that I was unable to choose between them. Plan A involved her dropping to her knees, while I pulled out my cock and fucked her mouth. Plan B would be her bending forward over the bed, while I lifted her skirt, pulled down her pants and had her from behind, cuming in her ass. Plan C was a personal favourite. It required her to masturbate to orgasm for my viewing pleasure.

“Plan C” I spoke without a seconds hesitation. Another dimple, and a shake of the head. “I would have put money on plan A.”

“All in good time.” And I fought the urge to leer. It was only just starting to dawn on me that this was really going to happen. This beautiful girl was going to share her body with me, fulfil my wildest fantasies. If the gods were having a laugh at my expense, I was starting to think that it was already worth it. This girl had given my two months of pleasure and delight without me leaving my keyboard… a bolt of lightning now would seem like fair exchange.

Sheila slipped out of the short coat and sat on edge of the bed.

The already short hem of her dress rose up, revealing the length of smooth brown thighs. I almost had a heart stoppage. She wore stockings! Admittedly they were the hold up type, no garter belt – but god! Whoever invented tights should have been strangled at birth, or least put against a wall and shot for crimes against mankind. Her hand helped her hemline higher and exposed the skimpy, pale lace and silk knickers. They seemed to glow, contrasted against her rich colouring. She smoothed her palms over her inner thighs and a little hesitantly, lightly stroked a fingertip over beautifully, full curved front of her pants, tracing the cleft of her sex. Looked up at me through lowered eyelashes. I snapped my drooling jaw shut and tried to imagine a calm, appreciative expression. And probably failed miserably.

“I’ve never done anything like this before...”, her voice was quieter, deeper and defiantly teasing. I looked up into her face and found her expression as unfathomable and inscrutable as any fabled oriental. The educated, English accented words from her had developed a throaty quality that her original greeting had lacked. I nodded dumbly. If sex had a sound, she was it.

“It’s really very strange… but I’m so wet already. If you touched me, I’d cum.” She breathed huskily. Hussy. But she was clearly enjoying herself.

My resurrected erection was now distending the front of my trousers uncomfortably as I struggled to find words that would sound sane and reassuring. I probably sounded like I like a village idiot about to have a stroke.

“Take you time… show me your breasts… those nipples you told me so much about.”

She pouted, and glanced pointedly at my groin. The instinct to cover the bulging front of my trousers was hard to resist, but I managed it.

Her left hand never ceased its gentle stroking, as she used her right to slowly slip the shoulder straps down and reached awkwardly behind her to reach the zip at her back. I started forward to help, but a commanding shake of her head stopped me. As the top of her dress loosened, it lowered, and bared the warm brown swell of her small, firm breasts. She wore no bra… please see comments about tights. As promised in her emailed advertisement, her nipples were tiny, dark chocolate in colour. Good enough to eat.

She caressed herself, a circling thumb catching on the hard nub of her nipple. She spread her thighs wider, the incessant stroking harder, firmer. She made a production of caressing the stocking clad thighs and kicking her tiny black shoes off.

“Are you just going to stand with your tongue hanging out?” Ouch.

“Sit.” And pointed with a jerk of her chin to one of the rooms upholstered chairs.

“Show me your cock. Show me how hard you are.”

Her voice was teasing, but with a discernable edge of hunger. A little self?consciously I pulled the chair over and sat facing her, never once taking my eyes off her. The action of her ever?moving finger traced a damp groove in the front of her pale knickers and I was hungry for more. Reluctantly I unzipped my trousers, and shoved my hand down inside my underwear. Men do have this habit of holding themselves, it’s kind of comforting I suppose, a habit. It felt especially good when aroused... and I was extremely aroused. She slipped a finger under the edge of knickers, touching her pussy directly and she let her expression show the pleasure it gave her, even as she shook her head.

“Uh uh. Show me. Show me your cock. Wank for me.”

I pulled myself free of my pants with a familiar reluctance ? fear of judgement? Women may feel it unfair, but they do not have the graphic display of potency and sexuality that an extremely visible erection involves. A disappointed look, an amused smile… and it’s all over. Most males, unless unusually blessed, live in a world of fear that the might be less than adequately endowed. Most women are well aware of how conscious we can be about our cocks… but often lack the empathy of just how it feels, and what damage they can do to delicate male egos. A kindly or admiring word can do wonders for their sex lives. My sexy Sheila’s early emails included a request ? “How big is your cock – I love big cocks. Send me a photo.” She will probably never know how much fear surrounded the honesty of my answer, and the trepidation went with my attached photo. I berated myself for not exaggerating. Six inches fell well short of the eight that filled any erotic stories or hard?core videos. Her reply had been awaited with a mixture of hope and a fear of ridicule. She proved to be not only a beautiful, but also a clever, person. Kind words and a compliment to the effect that six inches was more than adequate and that she wanted the pictured cock buried in her body.

Sheila rolled her eyes. She was fingering herself, but the action was hidden by the damp strip of her knickers. I must have made some kind of noise, because her gaze focused once more upon me. She eyed my rock hard erection and then glanced down between her thighs. She smiled serenely, and withdrew a shiny wet finger, and held it up, displaying it to me.

“See how wet you make me.” She teased, before touching it to her pursed lips, and lapped at it with her small pink tongue. This time I heard my groan.

“Aah… show me. Show me your pussy.”

Her left hand eased the material aside, and I had my first real time, real life look at her pussy. I have never yet managed to express the strength of attraction, sheer pleasure that the sight of that magical piece of flesh between a woman’s thighs gave me. I guess that we are genetically programmed to find them irresistible. Its not only me… males have an almost fatal, lemming like urge to throw themselves at the female sex. Loving husbands risk their wives and children. Powerful men and successful politicians risk their reputations and careers and fortunes for a sniff of pussy.

Sheila had the power to strip men of their wealth, their families and their dignity. Did she realise that? Do any women really appreciate that? A butter smooth, warm brown gold, full lipped groove. Not an unsightly hair in sight. Her, oh?so?lickable labia looked swollen, a gleam of pink inner wetness tantalised invitingly. Mesmerised I watched her replace the recently licked finger to the slick groove. She rubbed it gently over the apex, parting the lips to caress the hooded nub of her clitoris. Her eyes rolled up once more, her mouth hung slack. I watched as a tremor ran though the length of her body.

“Oh baby… oh yes… I want your cock in me..”. Action matched her words, as she drove two fingers deep up into her vagina. Her body jerked, and she was into her stride. The hypnotic sight of her writhing body, splayed out thighs and her wrist blurring as she vigorously finger fucked herself.

Fuck plan C – plan A was suddenly very imminent. I lurched up out of the chair, awkward with my open trousers. Her words, already rendered incoherent as she gasped and grunted, were stifled as I pressed my aching cock into her waiting, open mouth. I grasped two handfuls of her long dark hair and pulled her deeper onto me. I could feel her body shaking under the onslaught of her busy fingers, as she spluttered and gagged on my throbbing length. I came almost at once, spurting into the very back of her mouth, and I could feel the pulsating action of her swallowing desperately. I was hunched over her head, jerking manically, emptying myself into her. Her snorting, choking noises got worse, until I hurriedly pulled back, my semen and spit smeared cock slipping free of her lips. A trickle of diluted semen escaped from the corner of her mouth, until a skilful swirl of pink tongue recaptured it.

She was still gasping as I pushed her over backwards onto the bed, legs sprawled out, wide spread, two fingers still buried deeply between the lush lipped cunt. I hurriedly pulled my shirt off over my head and stepped out of the crumpled heap of my trousers. She gazed up at me, all wide eyed, slack jawed and heaving chest. She continued to finger herself as I knelt on the edge of the bed, between her wide spread thighs.

Roughly, I grasped her legs behind each knee and raised them, her sticky fingers slipping free and reaching for my rock hard, well?lubricated cock. With her knees virtually on her chest, her pussy was an enticing, wet lipped groove of pure sexuality. I reached under the firm swell of her bottom, gripped the waist of her knickers and forcefully pulled them off her hips and along her raised thighs, over the bend of her knees and off her ankles. I would have liked to pause and admire the exposed, vulnerable beauty of her cunt and newly exposed dark whorl of her anus… but I knew that having cum, I had to keep fucking through the lull that follows ejaculation. Her fingers found me, wrapping around the base of my shaft and pulling me down towards her cunt. My cock was extremely sensitive, making me gasp as she rubbed me along the hot cleft of her pussy, before stuffing me into the mouth of her hot, grasping, vaginal opening. Keeping her knees together, virtually resting on her breasts, I pressed into her, one long deep lunge that had me buried deeply between her fat lipped slit. She grunted appreciatively, an “uh!” of expelled air. Her cunt gripped me firmly in its hot wet grasp, and I could have remained there an eternity, dieing happily in her embrace. Instead, I began to thrust back and forth, pulling almost entirely free of her, before plunging deep once again. Hard and fast, keeping my hardon past the post?climatic phase. Her hands now grasped her bum cheeks, pulling them apart to add a few my millimetres to the depths I could plunge. I also recalled an email about how she loved thud of swinging balls against her anus. I had my head down, hands on her knees, looking down at my pale, veined cock thrusting between the warm brown lips of her sex. I could see the mouth of her vagina, a moist pink ring that gripped my shaft, moving back and forth in sympathy. I parted her knees, and looked up her exquisite body to her face. She was rocking her head from side to side, mouth in constant motion and I struggled to make sense of the noises she was making. “Oh baby... fuck... oh yes… fuck me… fill my cunt…”. Ok, I could live with that,

An achy knee urged a change of position, and I collapsed forward, over her, her thighs parting and wrapping around my waist, and I buried my face into her shoulder. I slid my hands under her ass, raising her, and found my fingers against the burning knot of muscle of her anus, already very slippery with her flowing pussy juice. I gently probed the wrinkled muscular ring, marvelling at the heat I could feel. Doctors do have a point with their love of rectal thermometers. The grunted “Do it” rang in my ears, and ever happy to oblige a lady, I slid my forefinger into her asshole. Past the second knuckle and her whole body lurched and shook, her thighs tightening uncomfortably around me.

Having cum in her mouth, I was in that kind of detached, mechanical phase. I was aware of her body’s motions, trying to find the points that made her react. I was aware of the tight, pulsating grip of her anal sphincter around my finger, how she reacted a slight change of angle to my thrusts. Secure that my hardon was going to last, with no urge to climax again, I free to start playing with this delicious body. I rose onto my elbows and gazed down at her beautiful face. A woman never, I repeat never, looks more beautiful than when she is enjoying the feel of your cock inside her body.

I kissed her for the first time, and I swear she came, with my cock, my finger and my tongue inside her. Or maybe she faked it… men don’t really care – as long as they don’t know. Women often find this odd, but men are happy to be lied to. Successful (even less successful) prostitutes have exploited this since time immemorial.

I took hold of her wrists, and made her suck her aromatic fingers, then stretched her arms to the sides, as it on a crucifix. I had come across the odd female pleasure in gentle restraint, and Sheila seemed no different. She moaned and writhed happily beneath me, body heaving to meet my thrusting cock. I stretched her arms up over her head and found her equally responsive. Her exposed armpits, and their wisp a silky hair gave me a mild insight into that particular fetish.

This had been going on for fifteen minuets or so, and my body was staring to protest. I slowed and finally halted, cock deep inside her, and lay my head upon her heaving chest, toying with those dark and delicate nipples. The crushing grip of her thighs relaxed, and we lay quietly for a while, savouring the muscular grip and occasional squeeze of her cunt, each time I twitched my cock. She continued to whisper and mutter complimentary, horny words of encouragement.