Lady Libertine Ch. 06: Wish, Dream, Do

I had gone to bed last night marveling at the change that had come over Todd. He and I had suddenly become like newlyweds. I wondered if my appeal was actually read by Santa. If so, could my wish have actually been honored?

I have been observing major changes in myself over such a short time. And this has caused more than a new spark in our marriage bed. Beds and couches were now on fire. Hell, I seemed to be on fire, and sex had developed into a hot urgency that was explosive. I wondered if that was what had been needed to rekindle our relationship. If so, then I was the one who had to change, and Todd was responding very sensuously to the new me.

I went to sleep last night wondering if the rekindling of passion had been accomplished. Yet, I awoke in a very different state of mind. I awakened with a startle as if I had been dropped upon the mattress. My eyelids were heavy, and it seemed as if I was unable to open them. I literally pried one lid open with my finger. The clock showed 7:00 a.m., and a faint light was visible through the open blinds. Dawn had broken, and the sun would soon be up.

Suddenly, an odd suggestion came to mind: "Wish it, dream it, do it." And then my mind was flooded with the recollection of a dream and Santa's invitation. Now, it was flowing across my mind like a 3D movie.

In my dream, I walked to our mailbox and was surprised to find an envelope with a return address that simply read: Santa, North Pole. There was a brief note inside. "Received your letter. Wish manifestation in process. Meet me in Santa's Village at the Gingerbread House."

"How odd," I thought. I remembered a Santa's Village in the Santa Cruz Mountains, but it was torn down decades ago.

Yet, in an instant, I was at the village. The details of the elves' little retail stores, workshops and cottages were more lifelike than I remembered from my childhood memories of a visit so long ago. Ahead of me was a large figure in a Santa's outfit waving at me. He was standing in the candy cane doorway of the most exotic gingerbread house I had ever seen.

When I got close enough to see his face, I was shocked to discover that he looked just like Angie's father when she and I were young. I had known Angie since childhood and always thought her father was like Santa. Would I have remembered the resemblance if Angie had not convinced me to become a ghostwriter for her telephone sex script?

Her father had a dimpled smile, a twinkle in his eyes, and a generous nature that reminded me of Santa. "Yes, that must be where I developed my secret fantasy of Santa having a passionate relationship with Mrs. Santa," I thought.

The only differences were the cascading white curls that merged with the full white mustache and long beard, all below a red velvet hat. Its fur-lined brim brought out his rosy cheeks, full lips, and twinkling eyes behind a pair of metal spectacles. Otherwise, he was the exact likeness of Angie's father.

Santa's bowing and sweeping gesture invited me into the gingerbread house. No words were used, and there was no movement to his lips except for variations of that enticing smile. I scanned the small dwelling, which consisted solely of a red brick fireplace with a small flame dancing above golden embers, two forest-green cushioned chairs with matching ottomans, and a red velvet sofa. I assumed that the absence of a kitchen was because the exterior offered plenty to eat.

Santa motioned for me to sit in one of the chairs that faced the fireplace. It was difficult for me to take my eyes from his face because of the resemblance to Angie's father. In fact, the entire scene was perplexing, because he seemed to be in greater pristine 3D than real life. But then I realized that I had only seen Santa's helpers.

I felt like a very shy young girl around him. Maybe, I was more than timid, because I felt like there was a fist down my throat, and my belly had tightened as my heart began to thump in my chest. And then I almost got panicky when a thought crossed my mind that maybe I was going to be chastised for my naughty thoughts about Mr. and Mrs. Santa.

"Hey, hey," came a very gentle voice. "You are moving towards a panic attack, and this is only a dream. In fact, it is your dream, and I am just a visitor." Santa had found his voice, and not a minute too soon.

His voice had an indescribable soothing yet invigorating tone; a blend of crooning with chuckling at a mid-tenor pitch range. It was not at all like that deep "Ho ho ho," that I'd heard in the movies. No, it contained a blend of two qualities: seductiveness and kindly assurance. My mood changed immediately into a state of relaxed curiosity that put me on the cusp of a giggle.

"I am experiencing such extreme emotions in a mere instant of time," I thought with a smile as I lowered myself into the chair. Santa sat down in the chair next to me, and I studied his profile as he gazed into the fire. Yet, it was as if I was in a dimension of slow motion, and I began to fidget, which meant I was becoming impatient.

"Antsy are you?" observed Santa.

"Who begins?" I wondered silently. "Begins what?" asked Santa. "Begins this dream," I replied. "But you are in the dream already; your dream." he explained.

"Well, if that is the case, I would like you to tell me the reason you invited me here," I stated a bit more assuredly than I felt. "How is it he makes me feel like a shy young maiden in the presence of an accomplished older man?" I wondered.

"Ah, yes," answer Santa. "It is the shy young maiden that I would like to first address." And, before my thoughts formed the question, Santa added, "Of course I can hear your mind, and I can feel your emotions as well."

I sat back against the chair and stared into the fire. "It is just a dream," I reminded myself. I thought about all the courage I drew upon to deliver my letter of appeal to Santa's helper. "Dispel this cloud of reluctance and voice your desires," came an encouraging voice so silent yet strong and audible in my mind.

And suddenly I was in a dream within a dream. Mrs. Santa was lying naked upon a bed in her bedroom. Her body was youthful. Her shoulders, the curve of her back, buttocks, thighs, and calves were as smooth as sculpted white marble. Her head was turned to the right with her left cheekbone resting upon her right wrist.

I was standing on her bed holding a small push broom with a narrow row of three-inch long bristles. I then proceeded to sweep up and down the supple skin of her body, but she barely awoke. Mrs. Santa opened her eyes momentarily, she but did not recognize my presence and drifted back off to sleep.

A chuckling throat clearing "Ah hem" brought my attention back to Santa. His twinkling eyes and broad smile revealed that he can also see into my dreams. "What does it mean to you if everything in the dream is you?" he asked.

I decided to acknowledge the first idea that came to mind. "Something in me is like a sleeping maiden whose protective coverings have been removed, and the finishing sweep has been completed. I am the one doing the refashioning, yet I do not recognize that in myself?"

"Since you identified Mrs. Santa in your dream, maybe she is the one with the broom, and she is brushing away your inhibitions and setting you free for pleasure," added Santa to my extreme surprise. "And it is not unlike her to send forth such a vision to sweep us into action. So, allow me to begin," offered Santa.

"I have loved you for as long as I can remember," cooed Santa.

The sudden transition surprised me, but that is what happens in dreams. So, I decided to pretend that all inhibitions were cast away. I guided my mind to focus momentarily on the restrictive and tense feelings of inhibition as I inhaled deeply. Then, I imagined the sensations bring released out into the air as I breathed out. Amazingly, the heaviness of bashful reticence was replaced with a lightness of self-abandonment.

"The soul loves to engage such lively feelings. Wish it; dream it; do it," murmured Santa half under his breath as he stood up and then reached for my hands. I stood up, and then he placed my right hand upon his arm before turning me to face the red velvet lounge couch. I attempted to hide my amazement that I was now wearing a white satin lingerie gown. If I did not know better, I would say it was bridal lingerie.

My breasts were pushed upwards by shear white lace cups. The cups were fastened in the front by three pearl buttons and looped buttonholes. One thin lace strap was over my right shoulder while the other strap rested just above my left elbow.

The floor length gown fell in folds around my ankles. Above, it overlapped my belly to be held just below my left breast by one pearl button. That allowed the gown to open at my waist when I walked. A small satin triangle attached to narrow lacy elastic served as a thong that offered my genitals minimal coverage.

I discovered that I was walking in five-inch red satin fetish pumps with ankle straps. The top of my head was no longer at Santa's chin level but at the bridge of his nose. He guided me to the red velvet chaise lounge. It had a slanting back and a high arched base that rested on four wooden legs. Two large candy cane striped pillows rested against the back.

Santa removed my hand from the crook of his arm and lifted both of my hands to lower me to the lounge. Then, he slowly removed each white glove before bending down upon one knee. He placed my left heel upon his right knee and unbuckled the strap. He cupped the heel in a manner that enabled him to stroke my instep with his fingers as he removed the pump. He smoothly shifted his knees to place my right foot upon his left knee to repeat the process. It is said that every part of the body is represented on the bottoms of the feet. The sensations caused me to shudder with delight.

Santa rose back onto his feet. His hands offered me support as I turned to lean against the pillows while bringing my bare feet up upon the velvet lounge. I noticed that curvature raised my knees above my hips and feet causing the lower section of my gown to fall away just above my navel. Then I saw the red velvet ottoman to my left, which was previously hidden by the couch.

Santa walked around the foot of the chaise lounge to sit down upon the ottoman. He looked down upon me while stroking his beard. "Now first, I want to sit here and gaze upon your almost-naked form desirably set off by this revealing nightie. Your vision stimulates me as I prepare to unleash your passion as I free each button."

He gently rotated his index finger around the top of the pearl button below my left breast. That placed the baby finger of his right hand upon my nipple. Thus, he managed to massage both the button while simultaneously teasing my nipple to erection. My cunt began to throb as I imagined him doing the same to my clit. It only took him a moment to remove the loop from the button with finger and thumb. The gown fell away from the cups to reveal my entire belly; its heaving disclosed my rapid breathing.

Whispered words began to increase my arousal as he bent over to brush my left ear with his lips. "I have always needed you, and I have always loved you because of that. Now, I desire to pleasure you."

His right middle finger was now circling the top button between the shear lace cups that strained to hold in my deeply cleavaged breasts. His baby finger now teased my right nipple to erection. My breasts pushed upwards as if begging for a more forceful touch. And, suddenly I felt the first loosening as the bonds of the first button was released.

Santa whispered again into my ear. "It takes all my will to keep myself from ripping away your gown. I want to take you in my arms and kiss you softly. I want to explore your body; first with my fingers, followed by my lips and then with my tongue. These two buttons hold together the thin film covering your form, which hides nothing but seems to protect your modesty and innocence."

My mind began to scream out, "Take me!" And he must have heard, because he said, "That is not the way." I felt him repeat the same ritual before removing the middle button. Only this time he used his left middle finger, which allowed his left thumb to circle my left nipple. "Soon, all I will have is the tiny white satin triangle cloaking my mons and slit," I thought. Just then, the middle button popped free.

His right hand went to the final button. "This last button signifies the opening of your body fully to my desires. I intend to take you, to make you mine, show you that you will forever be my lover when you find yourself soaring in the heavens. You will satisfy my every need as I lead you from orgasm to orgasm."

Suddenly all bindings were released from my breasts, and I felt as if I were a lady hawk released from all tethers. Barely touched by hands, yet my body began to writhe in rhythm to an intense throbbing that undulated back and forth from my toes to my head.

Just then, his finger lightly traced an invisible circle on my forehead before heading downward. A feathery touch moved down the bridge of my nose, down the cleft of my chin (a devil's dimple), down my neck and down my sternum. I suddenly froze in anticipation. A powerful jolt made me gasp.

He whispered, "Do you want to come when thought of me enters your mind or when you hear my voice? Do you want to lose your self-control and suffer uncontrollable multiple "little deaths" when you think my name? Do you want to shudder in explosive bliss when you imagine my tongue touches yours, and we entwine. Do you want to make love whenever you see my image, both fully clothed, gazing upon each other from a distance, not touching, only feeling each other's presence?"

I found I could voice no reply as his touch moved below my navel. I had not noticed the pearl buttons at the upper angles of the satin triangle. I knew they were there when his finger began circling the first one. My body arched upwards when the movement allowed his thumb to caress my clit through the satin fabric. The elastic lace snapped away causing the triangle to flip over onto my left thigh. I knew I was now fully exposed.

"It is not too late if this is not what you want," Santa continued. " I have already brought you to orgasmic bliss physically primarily through your mind. And now I am ready to join with you as I spread your labia and enter your wet slit with my mind. I am ready to make you one with me, mine forever and a love forever on this shared etheric plane of existence."

My body began to convulse as one explosion after another shattered whatever was left of my being. "Oh God!" I cried out. And suddenly I knew how an ancient mortal must have felt when seduced by Zeus in his enchanting way. I clung onto my dream of Mrs. Santa as assurance that I would not suffer her wrath, but instead, unlike Hera, I had her blessing as I felt him penetrate me.

"Now remember," instructed Santa, "after your body is seized in orgasmic convulsions, I will pull you into a soft embrace and slowly begin to stroke you and soothe your exhausted body and mind until you beg me to give your more. And then achieving satisfaction again, you will fall asleep, yet, only to awaken to my touch exploring you once more."

I lay there entranced unable to move as my mind and emotions seemed to swirl in a vortex of my life journey: the innocence of childhood, longing for a mate, the ecstasy of union with Todd, the agony of the loss of our son, the joy of a daughter married, and the awe of grandchildren. Part of me wanted to cry out and lament the deepest sorrows while another wanted to laugh with joyful delight. Yet blended together, a perfect combustion was created, and I shot out of myself as if seized by the "grand mal" of all orgasms.

"Know that I am always ready for you," Santa continued. "Ready to see you denuded with an intimacy that only two lovers who know each other's most intimate, private, and deepest needs can share. The color red will always remind you of this night and free your body and mind to open fully to your husband and mortal lover, Todd."

"A surprise awaits you anytime you see an icon having to do with me. I will always respect your earthly needs, but I will always care for your etheric wants and desires. When you need me, I invite you to hum, 'I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus,' and I will be there with delightful gifts."

The dream ended abruptly when I felt myself landing back in my bed. I reached over to touch Todd, but his side of the bed was empty. The aroma of coffee told me that he could be waiting for me in the kitchen. It was Saturday, so there would be no stock market programs, and he would not be going to the gym.

I dismissed the dream and quickly put on my purple velvet robe to go join Todd. I froze in the kitchen doorway when I saw him seated at the table. All I could see was the top of a Santa hat and large red tee shirt with the design of Santa's jacket as he looked down at the morning paper. My knees almost buckled when I felt invisible lips kissing my neck and hands cupping each breast.

"What are you wearing?" I gasped.

"It's the first Saturday in December; this is the day you always put up holiday decorations. Did you forget?" Todd's broad smile disclosed his delight that I had forgotten that this was the day he always did his part by getting the boxes down from the attic. My insides were beginning to gyrate from my navel to my inner thighs.

"Today?" I croaked. I saw my entire dream with Santa repeated in a flash including the comments about icons and the color red.

"Always, for decades," Todd replied giving me a slight frown. "We have coffee and cinnamon toast. Then I bring the boxes down before the football game. You decorate to the Oldies but Goodies Christmas songs."

I attempted to shake off the building sensuous sensations as mere repercussions of a prurient imagination. I poured myself a cup of coffee and placed it across from Todd. Before sitting down, I bent over and reached across the table for a piece of toast, and he reached into my purple velvet robe and caught a breast in each hand.

"Sleep well?" he asked.

He had no idea! Todd had to be unaware of the burning desires going through my body at that moment. I would never believe that such pulsations were possible from the mere sight of Todd's clothing. And then to make it worse, the prelude to an old familiar song came though the stereo speakers just as he began to massage my tits between his knuckles.

"Oh, no! Please!" I begged the CD aloud. But my plea went unneeded, and Wayne Newton's voice began singing, "I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus." I do not believe it is possible to orgasm with such minimal tactile arousal even though I felt an explosion followed by dampness running from my slit.

"Ah, you want me again so soon," Todd half growled. "Your face and nipples never lie," he added.

"Don't move," he commanded. Suddenly he picked up both coffee mugs, and I heard them clank as he set them on the counter. Then he was back, and I felt my robe tickling my calves, up the back of my knees and thighs, and over my buttocks. I squirmed as Todd slowly lifted the hem and finally brought it up my back, across my shoulders, and ended with it over my head. Now, all I could see was purple hues of velvet.

"God, I love your ass!" he groaned.

I felt him press his already erect cock up and down my butt crack. I could feel flannel brushing each cheek. He was moist and slippery, so I knew he had pulled his penis through the fly of his green plaid flannel pajama bottoms and rubbed his member with saliva while admiring my ass. I could feel my sphincter muscles pulsating in sync with the ceaseless throbbing of my pussy. And then I felt a smack.

Never before had Todd taken me across a table. And never before had I felt his hands slap my buttocks. The sound and burning sensation sent a gushing stream of cum down my legs. I was surprised by my reaction. I did not attempt to tighten my ass in defense but allowed my legs to spread apart instead.