The Dream Continues Ch. 04

Chapter 4: Erotic Dress On A Long Weekend Together

Authors Note - Please read "The Beginning..." and "The Dream Continues" series. They may you understand this tale.

A few weeks later we knew that we could spend a long weekend together. We began to plan. I had to give the keynote address at an international conference, but elected find my own accommodation.

There were two reasons for this.

Firstly I do not like conferences, or "conference people".

Secondly I was in love, and wished to spend time with the wonderful person who has stumbled into my life, simply by visiting my chairman on the wrong day.

The conference was organised by an old professor friend. He assured me that I would only be needed for my own paper, then at a "brains trust" at the end. He knew that my paper would be controversial, and that it might cause many others to be reshuffled. In this case my absence might be wise.

We discreetly flew together. We booked into club class on the same flights there and back. We told the airline what seats we wanted, and she booked in very early. She looked sensational when we met in the departure lounge.

She wore a long, tight belted, raincoat, with her jet black hair cascading onto her shoulders. She rushed to me, her blue eyes full of happiness, and we kissed.

I wondered, briefly, if we might join the mile high club!

We did not. She had been shopping, and had found my French corsetieres. She was carrying almost everything she had bought, as hand baggage. The bags advertised were they were from, and what they might be.

This caused instant interest from our pretty young airhostess.

Once we were seated, and as breakfast was served, the girl asked if she might see what was in the bags. She was shown a few of her purchases. One for the first things to be brought out was an exact copy of the original white bra.

The airhostess was amazed, and did not believe that it would be possible to wear such a flimsy thing comfortably, particularly for a long time.

That threw down the gauntlet. My beautiful companion simply unbuttoned her blouse, and peeled back one side. A perfect nipple came into view, erect, and pointing straight out just above the top line of the bra cup. If it could be worn throughout a long day, and an international flight, then it proved a point.

There was an unexpected, and sudden reaction from the airhostess. A hand shot out. It gently touched, and stroked, the nipple.

It was very erotic, a completely involuntary reaction of beauty to beauty.

The poor girl went beetroot coloured. She was very embarrassed.

Well she was not that embarrassed. She told all her female colleagues!

The obvious happened, my beautiful companion was invited elsewhere; she disappeared with her shopping bags into the confines of the galley. A curtain was drawn tight shut.

I was left toying with a typical, not so good, airline breakfast.

It seemed that every article of underwear was examined, and all had a look at the bra that was being worn. I was simply the odd man out; especially jealous when shrieks of laughter came from the pantry.

Later I was given a blow-by-blow account of the gathering. Male cabin staff were sent elsewhere, and four girls crowded around my friend. They examined all the exquisite French clothing in detail, and then asked if the could see what our airhostess had seen. Many buttons were undone, and hands held back her blouse to expose both breasts.

More hands touched, fingers were slipped under bra straps, her breasts were stroked, and the cups were weighed. Finally those wonderful hard errect nipples were stroked.

That was enough, liquid formed on the teat ends.

A gaggle of girls discovered that the breasts of a stunningly pretty passenger could give milk.

There were immediate peals of the laughter, of delight, of glee, and of wonderment. This is what we heard in the cabin. She said that lips gently caressed the milk away before more hands helped to dress her again.

We left the aeroplane a king and queen, with all the airhostesses lined up as a guard of honour to wish us well. She was on fire with lust.

Our hotel was close to the airport, right on the water, but a few miles from the conference centre. I had especially asked for a waterside suite, with a huge bath, a balcony, and plenty of room for me to work. They threw in a landing stage as an extra, which had me thinking.

The position, and views from the room were breathtaking. The windows were full width and height. They slid back so that only a third of the wall was covered. We were six feet from, and three feet above the water. Far out, across the water there were islands, shimmering in the heat haze.

We wondered if they were they inhabited?

We were shown to our room, and asked that an early cold lunch to be left outside our door. We were not to be disturbed at any time. My paper was early the next morning, and we knew what too much lovemaking might do.

We also knew that we would then have two whole days entirely to ourselves, before I had to return for the "brains trust". We stripped naked.

She padded around the room putting everything away. Two light hotel wraps, or housecoats, were hung on the back of the main room door in case of emergency.

She was still in the clouds from her experiences on the 'plane. Her nipples were rock hard, she needed to cum, and she was dieing to show me her shopping. She did.

She started with an exquisite, silk and lace, white basque. We went no further.

She had the most perfect "hour glass" figure, and she explained that she had been told to deliberately choose this to be slightly tight.

Apparently she went into the French Lingerie shop wearing the bra, simply to purchase another. The shop assistant remembered that I had purchased one. She started to show more beautiful things. She was a great saleswoman; almost the first thing to appear was the basque.

The two girls wanted to play. The sales girl locked the shop door, turned "Open" to "Closed", and both disappeared into a large fitting room.

The girl explained that a basque should normally be slightly tight to enhance the wearer's feelings. She fitted one of exactly the right size. It was gently boned so that, when correctly fitted, it enhanced an already slim waist, before curving out over her hips and turning again almost to the tops of her hip joints.

My glorious friend wanted me to fit it to her. She turned, with her back towards me, and held up both arms. I passed the garment it under her armpits. I checked that each breast nestled perfectly into a cup.

My erection was huge, I had to bend deep at my waist, or my penis would have brushed continuously against this exotic garment.

I pulled it around her body, ensured that the inner flap was in completely the right position, and began to lace. Long lengths of the finest white silk ribbon fell to the floor.

The first two or three lacings were into actual eyelets, after that I simply passed the ribbon around exquisitely detailed tiny hooks. I gently pulled the basque tight as I laced upwards. She purred with contentment.

Finally I tied a bow, and it was done. I lightly touched her right shoulder, and she slowly, provocatively, turned around to face me. The cups simply stopped, like those on the first bra, just below her nipples. These tips of my desire were completely exposed.

It was an extraordinary piece of eroticism. It came complete with many extras. She modelled it with bra straps that gently touched the sides of her naked breasts, with straps that divided to hug each breast, like those on the original bra, and without straps.

She modelled it with stockings and suspenders of different lengths, and without anything.

It was best by itself.

I had been sitting at my desk trying to revise my paper as she modelled the various alternatives. It was impossible to work, so I motioned her to me.

We hugged; I pulled her middle tight to my body, and kissed the silk of her amazing garment. We both knew that she had to settle after her morning experiences.

I slipped my fingers under the lace bottom of the basque. I rolled the lower lace covered edge slightly upwards. I found her clit. It was enormous, truly like a little cock.

I lent forward, lifted the lace curtain slightly further. I pressed my nose through the blackness of her fur, looking for heaven. I found it, and moved my mouth over it to cover her soul.

I sucked the full length of her clitoris into my mouth. I chewed, and pulled quite violently, gripping alternatively tightly between my lips, and then my teeth.

She stood motionless, gently purring with contentment. She began letting out quiet, hardly detectable yelps, as I nibbled, pulled, and bit.

Suddenly, almost without warning, she flew over the top; she shuddered all over, eyes tightly shut, and slowly collapsed onto her knees. Her head rested on my lap, my penis hard against her cheek.

She was in heaven. All her sensual senses had been bottled up on the flight.

There was a knock on the door. A voice announced that our lunch was outside. Footsteps went away. I got to my feet, my erection swinging from side to side, opened the door stark naked, and retrieved the trolley.

This was one of those contraptions that have hot and cold areas, many layers, cupboards, and flaps that opened up to make a table. I pulled it into the room.

Meanwhile she had gently, sensuously, like a snake, or a cat after prey, wound her way, on her hands and knees, through the open window, and onto the balcony.

She pulled a blanket from the bed, with her teeth, as she passed, and we were ready to eat.

We sat close, facing each other, cross legged, with her cunt continuing to invite me from beneath the lace of the basque. I had to work, but it was an enormous temptation.

Delayed gratification is a wonderful concept. Since we met we had begun to understand it fully. We knew when we had to hold off, apart, or otherwise. We both agreed that I would wait my turn to cum.

We finished lunch, and I began revising. She chose to lie in the sun on the balcony, still dressed only in the basque. It was moulding to her body, becoming another skin.

I became so engrossed in my work that I did not notice what happened next. Ever so quietly, with delicate feline movements, she had crawled under my desk. I was sitting legs slightly apart, cock flaccid, so that it just touched the chair. I felt something touch the end.

It dipped beneath the tip, and lifted it. A gentle mouth pulled on my foreskin. It was drawn from my cock. My reaction was obvious, I began to swell, so the mouth opened, and continued to draw me in. I went deeper, and deeper, as my erection unfolded, but I did not move. I tried to go on working as it I had not noticed!

This was making her mad, not like she was when she was talking to her husband as my cock began to slowly push deep into her bum, but mad that I had not moved!

She drew me deeper, and deeper, still.

There were gurgles as I began to touch the back of her throat. Each time I did she held her breath. She withdrew completely from me on each stroke, holding only my foreskin in her mouth.

Somehow she began to stick her tongue in, and draw on my cock so that she was surrounded by foreskin. Her tongue became almost like a penis being covered by a human French letter. Every time this happened she bit, and chewed, then lightly scraped her teeth down my foreskin. Then she forced me back into her mouth.

As I grew harder less, and less, foreskin was available. Her tongue continued an amazing dance on the tip of my penis. We were approaching the surreal again. I continued to pretend to work.

I could stand any more. I had to stop working.

My hips slid forward on the seat, and she deep throated me completely. Once, twice, then I was not sure how many times I vanished into her mouth. Every time her hose was hard against my bush. I ran both my hands under her chin, onto the slope of her neck. I could feel myself as I journeyed in and out.

My balls started to convulse, and I came spurt, after spurt, into her throat

Simultaneously she thrust her mouth even further forward. Every drop of cum appeared to pump deep down her throat, nothing was lost. Now I was also in heaven.

She stood, naked, except for the basque, proud teats jutting out from above the cups, her hair cascading everywhere.

She said, "thank you, I said "thank you".

She bent forward, and we kissed. I was totally taken by surprise. An extraordinary endless plume of sperm jetted into my mouth. And I was completely sure that she had swallowed it all! There was no end to her surprises.

I pushed the trolley back into the hall, and she curled up on the bed reading another French novel. I worked, editing the rest of my Keynote Address. An hour later I was finished.

I crawled to the foot of the bed, and looked at my apparition, it had fallen asleep. It had rolled quietly onto its back, jet black hair fanning out around, the book tilted in the left hand.

It's breasts rose and fell, in that gentle swell that comes from deep sleep. Adam's apple moved more gently in unison. I blinked, hardly believed that it had, so recently, felt the force of my cock as it was pushed into the throat. She wore the basque like a second skin that pressed her breasts erotically up.

It was a scene of total content. I moved the book away.

I knelt on the floor, with my chin on the flat of the mattress, just looking. I was there a long while gazing at my apparition.

Finally I stood to survey the whole bed. It was enormous; she looked diminutive, and very fragile. She moved again to curl up, in the foetal position, in one small corner of the vast bed. She continued to sleep at peace with the world.

I gathered my papers together, and put them in my briefcase. I was ready for the morning.

I went into the bathroom, took the phone off the hook, and made a very quiet 'phone call to reception, but more of that later.

We had both found, early on, that we had a total preference for absolutely hard beds.

This one was the best.

It was larger than two full sized billiard tables, and more. A pristine white sheet was drum tight all over it. There were two enormous duvets folded to about half way, and piles of down pillows at the head.

She slept, on one small corner, where the blanket had been. There was another fine woollen blanket in the opposite corner.

It was still a glorious, warm, afternoon. The windows remained fully open, and the only sound came from the breathing of an angel, and the gentle lapping of water.

I was mentally exhausted; I picked up the soft brown blanket, slowly unfolded it, and covered her body with a single layer. She did not stir. I kissed her cheek.

I picked up the other corner, and slipped, stark naked, onto the sheet. We were many feet apart, but we were one.

I slept.

To be continued...

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© Copyright Gussie - July 2003