Amelia's Night of Sensual Awakening

As her eyes jolted open to darkness, Amelia found herself in the last throes of thrashing about on the bed, vaguely aware the noise trailing off in her ears was her own whimpering. Realising where she was, she took a relieved breath.

Kicking back the sheet, she warily eased one long bare leg out and down until it found carpet, then slowly swivelled and let the other shakily join it. A trembling hand sought the lamp base in the pitch dark. But she needed to orientate her thoughts before allowing the shaking finger to press the switch. In a sea of thoughts, the young artist was content for now to just sit there and recover.

But two minutes later, parts of her skin and hair were still quite damp. This dream had been by far the worst. Unlike the last two nights, the young artist knew she wouldn't be able to just get back into bed and wait to go back to sleep. She needed to get up for a while, recover some composure and perhaps start to analyse the dream's confronting issues. As different parts of it came back, she felt horrified, guilty, wanton, titillated and ashamed.

It was set at a fully catered function at the mansion Richard and she shared. She recalled herself in it feeling so pleased they had been able to offer their large home with full catering to her best friend Clare for the formal launch of her first novel.

In the dream, the night had been coming to an end, the music had slowed and she herself had dimmed the lights of the indoor entertaining area. She was in the middle of the dance floor, looking about at the other silhouettes swaying romantically about her. Yielding to the gentle pressure of the familiar arms pulling her closer, it was the soft repeated whispers saying how utterly beautiful she was that made her suddenly realise they weren't Richard's arms about her, but Graham's.

She suddenly remembered while they swayed together that he didn't usually hang around for long at parties and could possibly leave straight after this song.

"Before you go, I have a promise to keep!" she reminded him, then started a slow shimmy down his dark suit until on her bare knees. Unzipping him, eager fingertips hunted for the soft flesh within, feeling him tense in surprise as she extracted it. Without hesitation, she guided the whole morsel beyond her lips as the music came to a stop and the full lighting returned, her friends gathering around. She could hear Clare explaining out loud to all as she lolled it around with her tongue that she was really missing Richard and had been denied this sort of pleasure for far too long this time around. As their empathetic comments died down, she closed her eyes in rapt pleasure.

The young woman recalled adoring the sensations of the penis stirring her mouth as it straightened and hardened. Re-living the part where she eased her lips back along the growing shaft, Amelia could taste that initial tang, and awoke just as she was wondering if he was close to climax as her dainty fingers took the nervous hands dangling by his side.

The dream re-lived, the attractive young woman depressed the lamp switch. Rising a little unsteadily to her feet, she set about untangling the light bed-shirt top gnarled so tightly about her damp chest and narrow waist.

Right now, she wished her husband was here just to hold her. But Richard was away in the States in the middle of yet another six week stint on behalf of the business he had built.

Despite their twenty two year age difference, she had willingly married him just over three years ago. Amelia had had always preferred older men and appreciated the fact that Richard took pains to keep up a physically attractive body. He regularly worked out whether at home, work or away on one of his frequent interstate or overseas trips.

The budding young artist had wed him despite his past containing two ex-wives, a model and an actor, both of whom he had also married when they were twenty five. Yet he had no children, and had avoided talk of having any with her. She also knew before the wedding that long periods with him away were part of the package of life she got with him. That suited her budding art career at the moment, allowing her to work all hours in the studio out the back without guilt. But she was starting to realise what her best friend Clare had meant after she had met him a couple of times, candidly warning her that Richard's priorities may lie in building an empire and taking pretty slaves as he did.

One fixation with Richard still amused Amelia. There were honestly times though when she thought to herself that she was just as in love with the penis as with the man, a point she often remarked on to Clare in their candid girl talk, usually after a few too many drinks. It wasn't particularly long or thick. But daydreams about it often invaded her imagination in the unlikeliest of places, usually picturing herself nude straddling him with it in her small fist working its mushroom-like tip about her opening and clit. Sometimes she let the fantasies extend to feeling its length slowly slide through her thumb and fingers on its way in and out of her grateful moist crevice.

Even in reality, her favourite moments were getting intimate with it. While they watched TV, or lay in bed reading, even once at a small private beach, she enjoyed laying her head on his belly and dislodging his sex soft and whole to feed into her mouth just like in the vivid dream. To his amusement, she would then spend ages with it dangling out like a lollipop orally tending what was inside while relaxing or reading, her occasional humming telling him she was enjoying the experience.

Her oral adventures though were unselfish acts. Much as she yearned for it sometimes, she'd been told that few of his generation were emancipated or comfortable enough to return any oral favours. He had only recently been convinced recently that making love with her on top was pleasurable, and wouldn't try doggy style. He was basically a 'missionary' man, But she lived in hope that he would surprise her by going down on her one day. Strangely, she had no idea what that would feel like. Given the older men she had mainly gone out with in her single days, it was an experience she was yet to enjoy.

But enjoy doing it to him she did. In their quiet private moments together she loved inspecting, fondling, teasing and mouthing it. Not necessarily as a lead-up to oral sex. Often it was just enough to feel it there between her lips, feeling the tip brushing the roof of her mouth, gullet or cheeks. Lately, her favourite game in bed was cleaning its length with her tongue as he was reading then quietly suckling until she decided it was time to drink him. She loved the build-up of noise from him until his final deep groans of contentment were ringing in her ears. It gave her such an enjoyable feeling of wantonness, power, pleasure and comfort.

The owl hooting made Amelia realise she had gone off into another world of what she called her sexual wish list. She sat back down at the edge of the drawer and pulled out the drawer. Despite it being summer, the late night chill prompted her to put some thick socks on before making for the walk-in wardrobe . Turning on its light, she paused at the mirror inside and lifted her shirt. There were still damp patches between her breasts and on her belly as she chose a robe.

The kitchen clock said three twenty as the kettle was flicked on. The only noise after the teaspoon had been deposited in the sink was the occasional ripple from the pool in the dark gloom outside. But even the hot chocolate couldn't stop her trembling as she replayed the recent events that were the basis of the disturbing dreams, knowing that the emotions she had felt in them were so close to ones she had felt in reality.

She'd gone to a party at Clare's place three months ago to help celebrate the budding author's thirty third birthday. Richard had been already away for a month and wasn't due to return for four weeks. Clare had passed her a quiet glass of chilled white on entry and immediately introduced her to the nearest person, her editor by chance. He was the only older man there. Her first sight impression was that he looked so out of place among the bohemian gathering, dressed up in his smart tailored suit and tie.

To her surprise, the initial chit chat snowballed into a quiet but absorbing conversation about her art career. Graham was obviously very knowledgeable about what had become her passion, yet listened attentively rather than flaunt his own expertise. Amelia guessed he was about the same age as Richard but he had a quiet reserve with his particular brand of confidence rather than Richard's brashness. She soon found herself unable to resist harmlessly flirting with him, even asking him to dance when some music had come just over an hour later.

But he had politely declined, explaining rock and roll wasn't his thing and anyway, it was nearly time for him to go home. She had been genuinely sorry to see him leave, watching him out of the corner of her eye bidding Clare goodbye on his way to the door.

After he had gone, Clare had immediately come over to say how grateful she was to Amelia for looking after him. He had just passed on to her how much at home Amelia had made him feel. She added that he had rarely stayed long at any of her earlier parties if he came at all. Amelia wasn't surprised when Clare added that he was easily the best editor she'd ever used. She found herself deeply touched by both his story and his thoughtful intelligence.

Two weeks later she was at another event at Clare's house. This one was a surprise party at which she intended to announce her coming out to her friends and to introduce them to Anna, her gorgeous intended live-in partner. Most people outside Clare didn't know the attractive young pair were lovers, and were surprised and pleased when Clare halted proceedings and made the declaration just after Amelia had arrived.

As the crowd surged forward to congratulate them, Amelia had felt a real thrill when she spotted Graham alone at the back of the throng. She made her way over and made obvious her delight at seeing him again. Grabbing his hand, she again flirted openly as she guided them both to the back of the congratulatory queue.

They stayed together for the next hour quietly talking, him drinking tonic water while she sipped white wine. She loved the way he again really listened to her whenever she spoke, and was secretly pleased when she briefly caught his eyes drifting down her slashed V neckline. She had opted to wear the mini bare-legged and without a bra and enjoyed the fact that his interest in her wasn't purely intellectual. When he hesitatingly had suggested a dance after some slow music had come on and the lights had dimmed towards the end of the night, she readily accepted.

Amelia felt an instant bond when he warily wrapped his arms about her to bring them closer together, and allowed herself to snuggle in. The fact he was about Richard's age made her feel quite at home, though she hadn't yet got around to telling him how old her husband was. When the music paused though, he whispered in her ear that he had to go home. Their night was over, and she again felt a real sense of loss especially when she remembered Clare saying he rarely came to her functions.

When he added how much he had enjoyed their time together, she decided to eke out what could be their last minutes together. Taking his hand, she said she wanted to walk with him to his car. When he turned to her there and looked into her eyes, she put her hands behind her back. There was no discouragement when his face started to lean her way. When he kissed her gently on the lips, it felt electric. Almost reeling back, she tried to cover her shock but all that came out of her mouth was some stammering that he was the best male company she'd had in years. Then to her surprise, she stepped forward, cupped his face and kissed him back, opening her mouth towards the end to encourage his tongue to meet and caress hers.

As their mouths reluctantly parted, he kept her close to him as she relished the secret churning in her belly. She wanted him to ask for her number. She knew why he wouldn't though when he leaned into her ear and whispered that she should tell her husband that an older man had told that she had the most beautiful breasts he'd ever tried unsuccessfully to see.

Whether it was a little too much wine, the dynamics of the night or the look on his face in the faint streetlight, she had looked about. There was nobody else in the gloomy street. Taking a quarter pace back, she let her hand ease the thin strap off one shoulder. Taking his hand and guiding it to her bare pointed breast, she rested it there and clasped both hands behind her back.

Closing her eyes, she stood there still and straight, thrilling inside as he hesitated then lovingly accepted her gesture to caress and knead it, her impromptu night sighs ending with an audible breath intake as he started to finger the sensitive hardened nipple.

Taking the finger, she affectionately kissed it, covered her chest and closed back in. Daringly, she whispered that if they met again at one of Clare's functions, she wanted time alone with him. And that one of them had better bring something along to get her lipstick off his private parts before he went home to his wife. A last lingering kiss and he was gone.

Inside, a curious Amelia sought out Clare and tried to innocently ask her asked out of curiosity if he was married. Clare went through his sad story. He had loved his wife until she had died in a car smash a few years ago, and that was partly why he now rarely went out. He much preferred to spend time at home where he lived with his recently separated daughter, content to babysit her three year old son and give her the chance to start going out socially again.

She was devastated that she must have revived bad memories and seemed like she was teasing him.

Once she woke next day, she had thought she should be deeply regretting making that erotic promise. In hindsight, maybe he was convincing himself it was only the wine talking. She hoped that if they met he wouldn't remind her of her last words. But she was really fascinated by him and wondered how easily she could control herself from coming on to him again in the unlikely event if she was alone and they met again in the future.

God, she wished Richard would spend more time with her here in their home as she found the last of her chocolate was cold now.

A nervous shiver again came all over her. The bit about the function for Clare's first book launch in the dream was true. Amelia was hosting it here at her house. And it was tonight. And naturally, she knew Clare would probably have invited her editor along as a special guest.

She now started asking herself what she would do if Graham turned up? Left to her own devices and her previous enjoyment of his company, she knew she might just cast aside all self-control and make a beeline straight for him. Flirt. Dance. Tease. She knew this chain of events could very well lead her to want to carry out her sensual vow on him. Though God forbid if she did, please let it happen somewhere more private than on the dance floor. There were a few bedrooms spare. She was no prude but surely she couldn't lose her inhibitions to the extent she had in her dream, could she? That question made her decidedly nervous.

God, she must be unconsciously craving for Richard's presence. For that cock. For any cock. Just to see one close up. Maybe give it one kiss. Maybe ...

Suppressing the futile fantasy that had come from nowhere, Amelia tossed the dregs from her mug into the sink. Rinsing, she began panic that what she had dreamed really could come true this evening. It was time to remember who she was married to, and to exercise some restraint and common sense. If he turned up, she needed a way to keep him at bay somehow rather than let him get too close which might tempt her to fulfil her sensual bargain.

She needed a male chaperone by her side and immediately thought of Kevin, her tall, burly older brother might do! It would mean begging him to come along at such short notice. She'd tell him the truth, that a certain man may get too interested in her and she just needed him by her side to act as a pseudo husband. Graham had no inkling of what Richard looked like. Yes, Kevin would do nicely.

It hadn't been easy to coax her brother along at first. Getting him to come to lunch was the easy part. But she couldn't think of any reason to get him to come. He didn't have a cultural bone in his large body. To her, the prospect of suggesting he may meet girls there on the surface of it didn't seem to be a great lure either. He had a nice personality once you got to know him, but she'd seen enough of him coming on to women to know how hopeless he really was at it.

But like many men, he was blissfully unaware of his weakness and persisted in his quaint belief that not having a steady girl any time in the past three years was just bad luck. He just described it as a drought about to break. That bait of pretty girls there, free booze, and the concession that, yes, he could take a few photos of those at the event was enough to commit him. She suspected his surprise offer to bring his camera along was more in the hope of catching Clare and Anna kissing now that he knew they were lesbians. He was smitten with both of the attractive girls. They probably wouldn't kiss in public though, so she didn't stress about him bringing the camera as long as he served her purposes.

Even with him there, she knew she still may have a problem. Based on most past instances with alcohol around, Amelia knew he was likely to binge drink. That may mean only one or two hours of protection before he became close to useless. She decided she'd better make up the large bedroom for him in case he got so drunk he was unable to take a cab home. Thankfully, becoming violent had never formed part of his drunken behaviour but he often got loud, opinionated and embarrassing.

On the night, despite her numerous requests, he got really drunk and did so really quickly. She had nervously kept him alongside her, casting constant glances about for Graham, hoping he would turn up one moment then praying he wouldn't a minute later. Suddenly a drunken Kevin nudged her.

"Who's that amazing looking girl over there talking with Clare and Anna?" he asked. "I don't know," she replied with disinterest, her eyes still sweeping the crowd. "Why?" "I think she rather fancies me," came his slurred reply. "She's been looking at us for the past five minutes."

Amelia stopped and focused on the beautiful young woman with the long legs cascading down the stool under her miniskirt. Kevin was right, she thought. She was stunning. And she did indeed seem to be watching them.

"I'll go over and see if I can bring her back," she promised her brother.

By the time she had made it over to Clare and Anna though, the mystery girl had vanished.

"That girl you were talking with. Kevin seems to think she's interested in him. Forlorn hope, but I said I'd try to introduce her to him," she half-shouted over the music. "Do you know her? Where's she gone?"

Anna tossed her head back and laughed, pointing back to her brother. "She's Julia, and we know her all right. She's an old friend, but she's been a really wild one sexually in the past. She's quietened down the past couple of years we're told, but you'd better get back and protect our young Kevin, because she may race him off before he knows what hit him. She used to have no inhibitions whatsoever once."

Raising her eyebrows at the pair, Amelia looked back at the seemingly innocent girl, glass in hand talking in such a relaxed manner to her brother. She was too good looking surely to be interested in him.