Patchouli Fantasy Ch. 2

It had been one of those nights, steeped in the scent of patchouli and charged with thoughts of her dream lover, that prompted her to actually go through with it. She had been sitting by the fire, wrapped naked in the quilt when she decided to put her fantasy into words on paper. The act of writing it down was a thrill in itself, somehow making it more real, more attainable. The more she wrote, the more she knew just how much she wanted this man. The evening hours passed into early morning as her pen advanced furiously across the page and her passions found expression through the ink.

A number of times she paused and thought of how much fun it would be to actually let him read it. But that was crazy! She had already boldly propositioned this man and with no result. She had to back off. She thought of how he would react, though, the expression on his face as he realized the content of the anonymous letter. And then she decided that that was just what it should be. An anonymous letter. She would send it to him in the morning. He would know it was her, he had to. She fell asleep just before dawn with her story finished and her body aching for its fulfillment.

The morning light brought with it clarity and a large dose of apprehension. The children needed breakfast, the dogs begged also, there were deadlines to be met and groceries to be bought. The everyday chores snapped her lust quickly into the background. In the afternoon though, she sat alone and quiet and reread for the first time her past evenings foray into erotica. Even by the harsh afternoon light she found herself really turned on. She put the paper down and sat back, closing her eyes. She imagined he was there with her, his hands touching her, his arms thick and strong.

Her breathing was becoming shallow as she opened her eyes and stood up. Crossing the room, she folded the paper neatly, put it in an envelope and addressed it. Without allowing time for a clear thought that might dissuade her, she put her coat on, got in the car and drove to the post office. She realized she was shaking as she approached the mail slot and dropped the letter in. The act of letting it go was highly charged, sexual somehow. And then, it was done.

Sitting at the table, writing, the next morning, the phone rang. She answered and it was him, his voice husky on the other end, "Can I come over?......I need to see you."

Her mind raced! He couldn't have received it already. It just wasn't possible. The coincidence was ironic she realized. Here all along she thought that he wasn't interested and now he was just calling out of the blue. She cringed when she thought of what he would find at the post the next day. "Of course," she stammered, "yes."

Her heart raced as she checked her image in the bathroom mirror. She felt flushed with excitement like a teenager when she heard his car turn into the driveway. She let him in, smiling coolly and making small talk. "How are you?" -- " Good, you?"

"Oh, yeah I'm great......real good. Come on in..." They sat facing each other across the table where she had first put forth her suggestion. She was aware that she sat on the very sofa she had written about in her story. The story that described taking his cock in her mouth and how good he would feel. She burned with the thought of his reading it in the near future. Wow! What had she done? Not wanting him to see her embarrassment she bolted up and offered, tea.... "Yes.... Let's have ... tea. "

In the kitchen she felt more composed, in control. She was grateful that her hands and mind

were busy with the task of filling the teapot and lighting the stove. He said nothing, watching. She stood facing the stove unable to think of what to do next, what to say. And then she seemed to sense him behind her. Slowly, his arms wrapped around her waist and his chin nuzzled against her neck. His breath was warm upon her skin, "I got your letter" he said, his voice deep. She felt him push his body up closer to her back as his hands moved under her shirt.

'Oh God,' she thought as her knees got weaker, 'oh...God.' She could find nothing to say to him. Usually words came to her so easily, usually they flowed. It seemed now as though she couldn't even remember the language. As he pressed himself up behind her she felt his cock through the layers of clothing. He moved his hands up lightly over her breasts as he kissed her neck sending shivers throughout her body. She found it mildly amusing in a distant sort of way that she had controlled the outcome up until this point, that it was because of her that he was here. He held her tightly by her forearms and turned her to face him, forcing her away from the stove and back against the wall.

"I want you," he said, "now." And then with his hands still tightly grasping her arms, holding her firmly, he shoved his hips up forcibly against her. She felt his manhood, hard now and straining against his jeans. "Now," he said again. Still holding her arm with one hand he used the other to lift her shirt up over her head and off one arm exposing her breasts held loosely in a sheer, tan colored bra. He kissed her nipples through the film of fabric and she knew then. She knew without any doubt that this was what she had hoped for, what she had wanted. Her free hand held his face and guided him up to her lips. She brushed her mouth against him lightly. His face was stubbled and rough in contrast to the softness of her lips.

She opened her mouth slightly and tasted just the tip of his tongue, the soft warmth inside his mouth. And then suddenly he was kissing her harder, forcibly driving his tongue deep inside her, his urgency making her weak. His hands moved fast -- unclasping her bra and taking it off. And then, it seemed her jeans were off and lay in a pile on the floor at their feet. He paused momentarily and stood back from her, leaving her bare and awkward against the wall, her breath coming in short gasps.

She wore only a small pair of black lace underpants with a thin strap of fabric holding them across her hips. He stood back and smiled as he lifted his shirt slowly over his head. She took him in through her eyes. His chest was broad and strong. The muscles in his arms flexed as he moved and she ached to be close to him again. And then his jeans ... she held her breath as he undid his belt and opened the zipper, slowly pulling them down over his hips and stepping out. He stood naked before her and her eyes went directly to his cock.

She found him beautiful beyond words and a small breath of pleasure escaped her lips as she went down on her knees before him. She kneeled at his feet and carefully took his cock in her hands. Holding it lightly she licked a soft, light circle around the rim causing the slightest twitch. As she went on to take him into her mouth, her tongue working back and forth along the underside, she marveled at his size. He was massive and his shape was beautiful, the head perfectly rigid and rounded as her tongue slid across it. Feeling him in her mouth caused her to ache deep inside. He moaned low, "Not yet," as his hips began to buck with the rhythm of her motions.

His hand on her head gently pushed her back and laid her down on the floor as he swiftly removed her panties. He positioned himself over her, his cock lightly caressing the opening of her sex. She looked up at him while her fingers ran distractedly over the muscles in his upper arms, his hair was long and sex-tousled his breathing too was shallow and fast. She breathed in his smell, the smell that had been at the root of her lust. She lifted her head up to his and kissed him as she raised her hips to meet his.

"Please," she half whispered. And then he pressed up hard against her and the head of his cock slipped inside her. With his next thrust he was fully within her and amazed at the sensation it brought. He proceeded slowly to thrust in and out of her and with each stroke she felt herself come closer and closer to orgasm. And then, with his face buried in her neck, low moans and grunts at he ear, he began to fuck her. He fucked her hard -- really hard -- their bodies slamming together violently as he rammed himself up deep inside her, so deep in fact that with each thrust there was pleasure mixed distinctly with pain. A mixture that each withdrawal made her hunger to feel again.

She hadn't known it could feel like this -- his cock massive and intense inside her. It wasn't long before he came hard and fast deep within her. She felt him throbbing as he came, each twitch sending pulses of pleasure through her body. He slowed the pace then and she could feel and smell the exquisite wetness of his sex.

With each slow thrust he rubbed up against her clit and her hands around his neck as she felt it start. It came from deep, high up inside and she knew it was going to be big. It seemed an eternity of being on the edge, right there, and then it began, slow, hot pulses of pleasure that quickened and intensified with each second that passed. Her muscles contracted tight around him. Her hips bucked up against him and he pushed forward toward her and held himself there until she began to relax.

Her breathing slowly eased and the grip she had on his upper arms loosened. He pulled out of her slowly as she relished each lovely inch and then the head causing what she deemed 'after shocks'. The mood was light and he was as beautiful as she knew he would be when she wrote of him. She snuggled in close and smiled up at him, "Good old US Postal service, huh?"