The Impossible Dream Ch. 01bySensualSam©
It's been years now and we've never even kissed. Almost certainly we never will. That doesn't stop me from thinking about you every day, though, and fantasising about you. Does that shock you? Probably, although I doubt it surprises you. Would you admit to entertaining reciprocal fantasies on occasion? Do you allow yourself that sinful luxury? Or is it completely suppressed? Never? Not once? Ah, I thought so! That's OK, you don't have to admit it to me, or even to yourself.
This piece of writing is, as you will quickly realise, a love letter, a kind of proposal and an explicit erotic fantasy all rolled into one. I see no contradiction there. You will almost certainly never read this, so I can be completely open. Just in case you do ever read it, I'll say it again: this is fantasy. Would I like it to happen? You know the answer to that. Could it ever happen? No, you're safe. It's just the unspoken subtext to our friendship, which I believe will endure always.
We're alone together, at last. You know that it's going to happen now, and you're terrified but also excited. What about my wife? I knew you'd ask that. She knows, she's helped to arrange this, she approves - did I mention that this was fantasy? We have an unusual marriage, as I mentioned once before, but I didn't go into detail. I won't now, except to say that we're not monogamous in the conventional sense, but that we are never unfaithful to each other. Can you make sense of that? Of course you can.
We're alone together. The small talk is fractured and stilted. We both know that we're about to kiss for the first time, and we can't concentrate on anything but that. It nearly happened once before, do you remember? I sat you on my lap, half dressed, and leaned you back in my arms. Oh, the temptation was almost overwhelming, but the time wasn't right, and somehow I held back. It would have ruined everything. It nearly did, anyway, but we pulled back from the brink.
Now it is going to happen. Now the time is right. You stand in front of me, waiting. I move closer, lean down and just graze my lips against yours, the merest touch for an instant. You are completely passive, but don't pull away. I gently take your face in my hands and feel you trembling. I tilt your head upwards and look into those big, expressive eyes, meeting your gaze. Can you see the love in my eyes now? I hope so. I lean in again, still holding your face, and kiss you more firmly. Your initial resistance begins to crumble and I feel you respond, tentatively at first, then more strongly.
Suddenly, you fling your arms around my neck and cling on, your whole body no longer stiff but pressed against me, surrendering to me. I don't rush, but kiss you again, and now I know that you're really feeling it, too. Your lips open, and the tip of my tongue slips inside. You pull away slightly, but then you come back for more.
Time stands still and the kiss goes on. Eventually we have to come up for air, and we stand apart again, your face flushed and your eyes searching for mine, troubled. I smile down on you with a warm glow of love, and at last you smile shyly back.
I take your hand and lead you to the bed, gently laying you down, then lying close, but not touching. You're trembling again, and are about to say something, but I put a finger to your lips - it's OK. My little one. I love the way your hair cascades around the pillow, and I brush a stray lock of it away from your forehead, making you smile again. We lie, side by side, and we talk. I tell you how beautiful you look, and you don't believe me. We talk about how we met, the long road which we've travelled from that day to this, the joys and sadnesses we've endured, together and apart. I tell you how much I love you, and you believe me.
I push you gently onto your back and prop myself up on my left elbow, the arm cradling your head and neck and you wait, trusting. You're dressed exactly as I fantasised - tight jeans, fitting like a glove, and a simple baggy white shirt, worn outside the jeans. I reach down with my right hand and slowly raise the bottom of the shirt until an inch or two of your midriff is exposed. I can't resist running the tips of my fingers across its smoothness, and you emit a small squeak at the first touch on your bare skin.
One by one I undo the buttons of your shirt, but don't open it, teasing both you and myself, delaying the pleasure and savouring the moment. You lie very still, but when I lean down to kiss your stomach, a moan escapes your lips, then you grab me around the neck and pull me down for a long, deep kiss.
When we eventually break apart again, I can't wait any longer. I stand up and take your hand to help you to your feet, too. Arms by your side and head bowed, you wait once more for me to take the lead. I kiss your forehead, then open the shirt, pushing it off your shoulders until it falls behind you in a heap. Still you don't move, so I drop to my knees in an attitude of worship, and am rewarded with another smile. I return it, and kiss your warm stomach again, before reaching for your waist and undoing the button of your jeans.
The sound as I pull your zip down is unnaturally loud, and then I need some help with the jeans themselves. They really are tight, and you giggle as you wriggle and shimmy to help me slide them down your legs. There's some ungainly hopping before your feet are free, and then I'm kneeling at your feet as you present one foot and then the other for me to peel off your white socks.
Only your underwear is left to protect you from my gaze now, and your shyness reasserts itself in your unwillingness to meet my eyes. I tell you to turn away from me, then reach up to unhook your bra. I'm standing very close so that you can feel my breath on your skin as I slip the bra straps off your shoulders. The bra joins the shirt on the floor. Still facing your back, I crouch again, slip my fingers into both sides of your panties and lower them all the way down.
I drink in the view, my eyes following the curve of your naked back, down past the narrowness of your waist to the swell of your bottom and the whole length of your legs. Then I quietly tell you to turn and face me. There's a second's hesitation, but you obey - I'm delighted to see you resist the instinctive urge to cover yourself, keeping your arms by your sides as you reveal your body to me.
You're beautiful. Your breasts are firm and rounded but not too large, and your nipples are, as I once couldn't help noticing when we went all went swimming together, quite large and prominent. They are also clearly aroused right now. My eyes are drawn to the triangle of dark hair which I have imagined so often, and it, too, is beautiful. In the future I will photograph you naked many times, but for now I am busy capturing a mental image, fixing this first time in my memory for ever.
You look up into my eyes now, holding my gaze even as you now hold the balance of power. Then you shiver slightly, and I realise that I am being very selfish. Still fully clothed, I take you in my arms and try to warm you. I tell you again how much I love you, and we lie down on the bed once more. It's the most incredible feeling, having you lying naked and defenceless in my arms. You belong to me now.
I start to stroke you. I want to explore every part of your body, but I don't want to rush. We have the rest of our lives for this, and if I have learnt anything, it's patience. So I stroke your face, I run my fingertip along your eyebrows and your lips. There are more kisses, gentle but passionate. I investigate the delicate skin behind your ears, run my fingers up into your hair and then back down the sides of your neck. You're a treasure to be enjoyed slowly, not taken for granted and hurried, but savoured.
Eventually my hands begin to explore further - I love your shoulders and the hint of muscle in your slender arms, the fine hairs of your forearms which respond to a teasing touch by standing on end until a firmer, flat hand warms your skin again. Your collarbone is next, leading to the swell of breast beneath, but I avoid that, brushing my fingers straight down the middle of your breastbone instead, then running both hands down your flanks.
I don't let you touch me, but make you stretch your arms out above your head, opening your body even more to me. Now I switch tack, moving to the bottom of the bed to give your feet some attention. Like you, they're petite and pretty and I'm tempted to stroke, but don't want to tickle and break the mood, so opt for a much firmer massage. You seem to like that, so I persevere for a while before moving up over your ankles, kneading your calves and sliding on up past your knees.
The area just above your knees is very rewarding. Firm but smooth, and most strokable, so I linger there. Is it my imagination, or is your body starting to writhe a little, and your breathing becoming deeper? Your eyes are closed, so it's hard to be sure. My hands dare to move further up the front of your thighs, still in a kind of massage stroke, and your hips are definitely starting to push off the bed slightly, encouraging me. When I withdraw my hands completely, I think I hear a small sigh.
I place a flat palm on your stomach, then begin to move upwards to the swell of the underside of one breast. I repeat the movement towards the other breast, and caress beneath and around the sides, careful to avoid your nipples. Your ribcage is rising and falling quite hard now, your breathing audible, and your breasts beginning to thrust towards my hand. It's time to stop teasing. I move my hand upwards so it covers the whole of your left breast and squeeze lightly. You sigh deeply and push into my hand, so I can feel the stiff peak pressing into my palm. It's bliss for me, and I hope that you're feeling something similar.
Without moving that hand, I shift position so that I can do the same thing with my other hand, and now kneel at your side with two perfect, warm handfuls. You open your eyes for a moment, and the intensity as our eyes lock is almost scary. I ask if you're OK to carry on, and you nod mutely.
I'm torn now. I'm hugely tempted to repeat the whole, leisurely exploration of your body with kisses, lips and tongue, but decide that's probably too much for our first time - sensory overkill. Besides, your body seems to be getting a little impatient! I've also promised that I won't try to have full sex with you today. It's much too early for that, and we need to learn each other's bodies better first. No, today is about your pleasure. I'm being selfish, too, of course, because I've fantasised for so long about pleasuring you, but I really do want to make this fantastic for you.
I lie on my side next to you, one arm round your neck, cradling you again, with you on your back. This way I can hold you close and make you feel safe whilst my other hand is able to explore. This hand makes free with your breasts, more firmly and less teasingly now, and I take each stiff nipple in turn between finger and thumb and roll it gently between them. I handle it slightly more roughly, feeling it become even tighter and harder. My hand moves lower, sweeping across the slight curve of your belly, and my knuckles just graze the curly hairs beneath, drawing a small gasp from you.
Unbidden, you draw your knees up, and I take the opportunity to switch my attention to them, then down the outside of each thigh in turn, stopping just short of the curve of your bottom. Now back to your knees, pressed tightly together. Not for long. I insert the flat of my hand between them, and pull gently but insistently until you stop fighting me and let them fall apart. You look anxiously at me, but I smile and arrange my own legs so that they provide support for you, and you relax slightly.
You need reassurance, and I cuddle you closer. You reach around my neck, our faces draw together and we kiss slowly and so sweetly. When our lips eventually part again you look relaxed and content, so I reach down to where your thigh lies across mine, and I run my fingertips slowly, slowly, from your knee, inching down the inside of your thigh, all the way down, stopping just short of that delicate crease where leg meets torso. You give a little mew - whether of pleasure or frustration I can't tell, but I'm encouraged enough to repeat the manoeuvre on your other leg. An unmistakeable lift of your hips as you push your groin up to try to meet my hand, then another mew when I stop short again. Definitely frustration, then.
Good, you're ready.
I place my hand flat on your stomach, fingers together and pointing down towards your feet. Then I slide my hand downwards until the heel is directly on your pubic hair, resting on the soft padding of flesh. Then I curl my fingers down and cup my hand until it is full of your warmth and moistness. You start violently for a second, then slowly relax into my hand, which doesn't move, and we stay in that position for a while, suspended in the moment.
Without shifting my hand, I lean across for another kiss and you move your head to meet me halfway. I can feel a difference now, you're completely open to me, abandoned to your sweet fate. I stroke, ever so lightly, the wonderfully soft, tender skin of your inner thighs and the damp curls between. I run the tip of one finger from the bottom to the top of your pussy, and you gasp. I can feel and smell the wetness of you, and I'm ridiculously pleased.
I bring my finger up to my own mouth, wet it, and repeat the stroking movement. Another gasp, another stroke, and I feel the delicate lips start to unfurl, promising me access. Your own juices make the way easy, and I explore a little further, seeking out your sensitive bud. You whimper, trying to hold yourself in check, but I murmer that it's OK, and to let yourself go.
I know that I've found the right place, because you're bucking under my hand now, squirming. I slow everything down, moving away slightly from the centre of your pleasure, then back again, building the tension in waves. For a moment my finger abandons your clit and dips inside you, just a tiny way, and feels another rush of moisture which I use to lubricate your bud again. The wave begins to rise inside you once again.
Your kiss is passionate and deep now as I hold you tight and close, feeling the tremors begin to take root deep in your body as my relentless finger coaxes you higher and higher. This time I'm not going to stop, and you sense that, clinging ever tighter until, finally, you break the kiss and cry out inarticulately as the wave of pleasure crashes over you and your whole torso arches off the bed.
I keep cuddling and stroking you, bringing you down as gently as I can. Your hair is plastered across your forehead, there's a film of perspiration across your chest, and a single tear rolls down your cheek, but you're smiling, and so am I. I am still fully dressed.
You're drowsy and content, and it's time to talk. I mentioned a proposal. You know me, you know that it wouldn't be a normal kind of proposal. I'm married, I love my wife, and you love her, too. Besides, you know that she was a party to this, even though she's not here at the moment. So, where do we go from here? What's just happened could be a one-off, a beautiful moment between the two of us, and you're free to leave it at that and walk away, go back to our platonic friendship.
It could be the start of your new life.
Here's what's on offer: come and live with us, share everything with us. We will look after you, make sure that you never want for everything, provide for all your needs.
You want to know if there's a catch. Of course there is. What do we want from you? The answer is everything. You will belong to us. Not a slave, you're an intelligent young woman with a mind of your own, and you will be free to leave whenever you want. However, while you stay, you will be the junior partner here, subject to both of us. My wife will always come first. Can you accept that? Is it what you want?
We won't ask you to do more than your fair share around the house. We may ask you to carry out one or two tasks for us, but nothing which you wouldn't enjoy, and your free time will be your own. Go out, see your friends, do as you please. Sounds like the job of an au pair so far, but long-term, and with much greater rewards.
There's more, of course. We'll discuss important family issues, travel etc. with you, but we will always have the final decision. When we want you to, you'll dress as we choose. You will be completely loyal and faithful to us, but you will be expected to be available to us whenever we want you, in every sense. You will have your own room, but you won't always spend the night in that room. I may join you, or you may be required to join both of us.
My wife will teach you how to please me. You will learn about and take part in every kind of sexual activity you can imagine and some that you can't. You will submit, even though some aspects may be repugnant to you at first, but you will find that you can enjoy and even become enthusiastic about things which never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined doing. You will find that it works because you're not in control, you're not responsible, you're simply obeying our whims, and we have the right to make you do anything at all, because you have given us that right of your own free will.
I wonder what you're thinking now. No way? I'd just be a plaything with no mind of my own, but I want to be independent and live my own life, make my own mistakes? Or are you tempted by the thought of a life with no responsibility, no money worries, being safe and looked after forever? Does the sexual side of it horrify you or, deep down, arouse your submissive side? You might want to think about that for a while.
Of course you will have questions.
Would I be just a plaything to be discarded later? Absolutely not. I love you, and you would be treasured. We would support you both practically and emotionally in whatever you want to do with your life, within or without your new family.
What if I change my mind later, fall in love with someone else, grow uncomfortable with this arrangement? That's OK. You're free to go, we'll support you in doing what is right for you.
Why on earth would your wife ever agree to something like this? Because she loves me and wants to see me happy. Because she could do with some help around the house. Mainly, though, because I would do exactly the same for her if that's what it took to make her happy. Seeing her happy makes me happy.
What if she and I don't get on, or one of us gets jealous of the other and wants you to themselves? She's in charge. If she wants to cancel the arrangement, she will. If she doesn't want to share me any more, then I will be hers alone. We will help you to make your life elsewhere, and we will always remain friends. It only works one way, though. You cannot supplant her in my affections, you cannot make any demands. For you, it is a case of give us absolutely everything, or nothing.
A promise. What if there ever came a day when she and I were not together any more for whatever reason? None of us would ever try to engineer such a situation, but as we know, life has a cruel way of confounding our expectations and plans. We cannot rule out any possibility, no matter how unwanted or how many years away. Then I would be yours. On equal terms. On whatever basis is right for us. A proposal? Yes.
Can you think about it? Of course. And I don't mean overnight. The offer is there now, it will be there in the future. It will be there when you have had lovers or a husband, but find yourself unhappy and can't stop yourself wondering what it would have been like with us. It will be there when your children have left home and you're lonely and unfulfilled. I once said that I'd always be there for you. It wasn't a figure of speech.