A Dream, In Midsummer

It's not a little climax and I can't think it was pretty, as my toes curl and my legs clamp around Rudolpho, and my eyes roll up and there's these wonderful little sparkles in my eyes, and I feel the rush, my nerves all blasting.

My pussy contracts around Rudolpho, getting so tight and small that I like to think I force the cum out of him, and he growls as the head of his cock bursts, then groans as I feel jets of Rudolpho's seed, hot and white, shooting and spraying into me, coating my pussy, sticking to my cervix, soaking in and leaving Rudolpho's mark deep inside my hot little cunt, where it will try to find a fertile soil to grow. My hips work for themselves; I don't need to instruct them as the rock up and down against my lover, pumping and pumping to help him pump, to extract all the baby-making cum it can, making sure every quarter-inch inside of me gets coated in Rudolpho's baby-batter.

The aftershocks run through me, tight contractions around Rudolpho's cock, and I drag my nails across his shoulders. I sigh, and he sighs, and he half-collapses against me, and I giggle, as his licks at my breast one more time. He rolls free of me, and I plant my heels in the ground, to keep my hips tilted upwards, better to keep as much of Rudolpho's wonderful seed-stuff inside me, rather than spilling it on the ground.

Rudolpho runs his hands over my belly, as though he could feel anything already, and we kiss and murmur sweet words to each other, hands gently exploring each other's bodies, with our fingers occasionally intertwining then pulling apart.

This time it was Rudolpho. It's not the same every time. Other times, it's Mustardseed. Or, I think about Dannel, and I wonder how it would feel to take his cock, which has to be as thick as a fire hose, inside of me. Or Acornleaf, so petite and dainty, and how would it feel to press my fingers into her taut, soaking little holes?

We lie there, Rudolpho and I, letting our breathing regulate, my knees up, laughing and talking, and I can't remember a word he said, but it's not important, what he said; it's the way it was said that matters. And then he gets up, and he offers me his hand, which I take, to help me stand, and I see the gathering is still going on.

Rudolpho is not bothering with pants or a shirt, anymore, so neither do I; in life, in real life, I'd be so nervous, so embarrassed, to be see so ... so naked, and laid bare, but here, here everyone else is naked, too, and sweaty, and ... they're still laughing, and they're drinking from these, these goblets, that look so simple and so ornate, and they're eating, fruits and meats, and it smells delicious, but every time they warn me against eating it, and they sound so serious that I listen.

I talk to so many more, but dawn is coming, too soon. Rudolpho finds me again, and takes my hand, and we get dressed, reluctantly. Together, hand in hand, we walk back, and although we ran to get here, it seems faster going back, and we're in my room, beside my bed, and I half expect to see me lying there, sleeping.

Rudolpho looks at me, and I look at him, and I know I'm blushing, as he holds my hand and rubs my shoulder. He's telling me he loved having me, and having me, and I blush, and he hopes, always hopes, I had fun, and hopes I'll come again, and again and again, and I laugh, and assure him, it was wonderful, it's always wonderful, his wonderful land of dreams.

And then, I wake up, minutes before my alarm.

Well?

Does that make any sense to you?