Iraqi Desert Dream Phantom

Many thanks to, my friend, Broadsword, for his inspiration, and to my editor, Bill, for his time and kindness.

It's Saturday evening and she sits in her home as lonely as anyone can be. She's felt very much like a woman all day, a woman who needs to be loved in the most intimate of ways. If the male of the species were there with he, he would surly sense her need and smell the scent of a woman in heat. She's had to change her panties twice today; such is the flow of womanly juices unclaimed. Her bra can barely contain swelled breasts that ache to be suckled and ravished.

Where is the justice or sense of reason that one who so desires, is left to burn alone, left to only dream of lust and wanton abandon with someone of like passion? Where is it written that this torment must be so? A woman sits there, whose needs are growing with each breath, whose desire is beyond anything imagined, a woman whose passion is unchecked, whose soul yearns for a kindred spirit to take her places she's never been, a woman who desires to give herself over to sexual pleasures, to give of herself, and take that which is only a dream in the far reaches of her mind.

When she closes her eyes, she can almost see the phantom that invades her mind and is just out of reach. That person who calls to her—from she knows not where. He comes to her at night, in her dreams, and fills her body with desires she can barely contain. He makes love to her dream spirit in the most sensual of ways, bending her to his will and making her the woman of his desire. He visits her unannounced, and fills her being with passions she only imagines, yet they are so real she can never deny them.

She awakens from a sleep she wants to remain in—where he is—where they are—together. Her day is filled with thoughts of him and her body responds as it does in her dreams. It betrays her and puts an aura of lust about her that others see, yet cannot define. She aches to run to him, to leave the day behind and find solace in the night when he comes to her unannounced. She lives for her dream state, where she comes alive in wanton abandon with her phantom lover.

He came to her that night—from a far away place—a place she had never seen before. Was he at last going to reveal himself to her she wondered? She had never seen his face, only his body as it burns upon hers. His body and his passion that take from her what he wants and gives to her what she has never imagined. But, where was this? He was walking away from her—not toward her. The place he was at was hot. She could see heat rising from the ground and hear the air sizzle and buzz. Sand was everywhere. What was that she saw, Humvees and soldiers? Could it be a far off firebase in Iraq? It couldn't be, but it was. Everyone was in uniform, including him. He walked into a tent, closing the flap behind him.

It seemed as though she was watching a movie in slow motion while hanging in the air above, looking down upon the scene as if she was a camera—filming. Once in the tent, he sat in front of a laptop computer with his back to her. It was a small tent, with several sleeping bags upon cots containing weary soldiers. A small stand stood in the corner, where the laptop was busy booting up.

He began typing and within seconds a website came onto the screen. She saw him scroll through an index and click on a link with stories, erotic stories. First he looked at the picture of the authoress, a pretty woman, a mature woman with blonde hair and a seductive smile.

'That's me', she thought, 'He's reading my stories!'

He looked at the picture with longing, reaching out to touch her face and felt himself stir. Every time he looked at her, his heart melted and he was filled with desire for this woman who touched him as no other woman ever had. He visited her every day, in his spirit, and made imaginary love to her with his body. He reached out to her with his mind and his heart, and knew that she felt him, as surely as he felt her. He began to read one of her stories.

After he finished reading, he slipped off to his sleeping bag. The lonely soldier lay down, closed his eyes and imagined she was there with him.

Suddenly she was back in her bed and dreaming. She could feel him touch her, his hands roaming her naked body, exploring. It was always like this when he came to her in her dreams. He kissed her softly at first, his lips barely brushing hers then deepening the kiss, his mouth covering hers, his tongue mating with hers, kissing her with unbridled passion.

His kisses trailed down her neck to her lovely breasts. She entwined her hands in his dark hair, guiding his head to her nipple, arching her back, that he may feast, and feast he did. He took one hardened nub into his mouth and suckled, drawing it out to full length, her moans urging him on, while his thumb played with the other nipple. She was on fire! Wetness gathered between her legs, her vulva inflamed with desire.

He felt her responding and imagined the lovely woman deftly sucking his cock to an incredible hardness. He had had that fantasy many times, her soft lips engulfing his cock, sucking him to completion. But that would have to wait; he wasn't through pleasuring her yet.

He wanted to taste her, all of her. His kisses left her well suckled breasts as he worked his way across her flat stomach to the soft patch of hair at the v of her legs, her hands still entwined in his hair. He smelled her arousal, the sweet scent of a woman who awaits her lover's cock to satisfy her yearning.

She felt his fingers separate her lips, the cool air rushed over them just before his hot tongue scorched her very being. "Please," she said, "Please."

He knew what she wanted, she wanted his hard cock inside her,instead he licked her from anus to clit, pausing to put his tongue inside her, gathering her sweet juices, tasting her. It had been too long since he had enjoyed the scent and taste of a woman. Her scent was lovely, her taste divine. He began thrusting into her with his tongue, enjoying the nectar of the gods, unable to get enough of this incredible woman. Her hips moved with primal desire and her moans added fuel to the fire.

She felt his mouth move to her engorged clit and thought she would die with the pleasure of it. He licked and wiggled his tongue up and down and around, slowly at first and then faster and faster. Her hands grabbed a fistful of his hair, and ground his face into her wetness, while her pelvis undulated with fervor. His lips wrapped themselves around her clit and began to suck, and his hands reached up and pulled her hard nipples. The sensation was overwhelming!

"Oh, please... please...please don't stop...don't stop...don't stop!

Suddenly she felt herself floating to another plane, somewhere outside herself, a place where fireworks were exploding, just as her body was exploding. The space around her was black and wonderful. She could feel her inner muscles clamping down in a fast and furious rhythm, juices flowing from her body. Her other self was moaning loudly, and tears streaked her face. As she relaxed, she felt his body on top of hers, kissing her, tasting herself on his lips.

"I can't wait any longer," he said. "I'm going to love you now with my cock."

In his mind's eye he could see this beautiful woman laid out beneath him. He rose over the sultry blonde and pushed the length of his penis into the warmth of her yielding depths. Her long sensuous legs wrapped around his waist to draw him ever deeper within her welcoming wetness. His privates press against hers until his balls rest comfortably against her lovely upturned ass. His cock had never been so hard.

Although it had been months since he had made love to a real woman, he could still feel the rhythmic squeezing of her inner muscles around his shaft as he begins to thrust into her.

A wave of passion washes over them as his lips press against her hungering mouth and then move down to gently suck her yearning nipples.

Gradually he begins to build up the in and out primal pace of their mating. The army cot creaks a few times in the darkness as the fiery blonde's bottom is pinned down by the increasing savagery of his sexual drive. Even within the confines of the sleeping bag, she somehow rolls her hip to direct her lover's cock against the sensitive opening of her cervix. Her moans begin to fill the room, but the other sleeping soldiers don't hear the soundtrack of their sex which only plays within his head.

The erotic authoress own words started this chain of events and now thoughts of her velvety vaginal folds are bringing him towards a climatic conclusion. This soldier may be far from home, but he's oh so close to coming and her panting breath is right there next to his ear, urging him on until his fantasy finally overtakes him. She becomes the focus of his passion and the receptacle of all his pent up tension and semen.

She awoke from her dream, breathless; a sheen of sweat glistening upon her skin, wetness between her thighs yearning for her dream lover. Is he a figment of her imagination, she wonders, or is he out there somewhere, calling to her, searching for her, and only seeing her in his dreams—as she sees him? Are they destined to remain dream lovers?

Foot note:

(Soldiers have masturbated since long before Hannibal crossed the Alps.)