Taken

byarbenitre©

I was barely wakened this morning by a dream.

Or perhaps not awake, because if I were going to choose a dream, it would be this.

Or not asleep since dreams as succulent are yet dreams and this one filled my every sense.

Still spent from the night's endeavours and weary from the week of work, I would have slept on in dreamless peace, but delicate fingers moved across the muscles of my back and tingled along my spine.

And more. There were circles of firm but pliant flesh on my shoulders and the press of moist warm loins against my buttocks; and a rocking back and forth as seductively moving as any dream of a succubus would leave me feel if suddenly awoke from that reverie.

There was a heavy pressing on my shoulder blades and those delicious circles of supple fruit once held against my upper back were now warm mounds encircling my scalp. One of them compressed against my ear and onto my cheek and forced a moan down my throat, through my chest and into my groin where my cock leapt in answer.

The moist heat I had felt bearing against my buttocks had lifted and was now grinding on my spine just where it met my ribs. The feeling shot frissons of delight first up, then down, and all along the pathways of my self. The shivers began to center where my hardness met the constriction of mattress as the pressure and kneading moved its way from shoulder to leg top.

Still, the moment of complete awakening evades me. The movements and manipulation of my musculature drives groans and moans equally out with my breath and inward, down through my nether regions. I am so hard, constrained by the mattress on one side and my weight on the other, that my penis feels, at the same time, far from my body and composing all that is not thought.

When the palms squeeze across my ass, I feel the delicate touches of hair fanning across my back and dancing on my skin. Unmistakably, then, there comes a soft cheek to settle in the hollow made between the push of my chest, the dip of my stomach and the slope of my thighs. The sigh of skin and gentle rustle of breeze give more chills and they feel, as they pass through my every nerve, like orgasms that can't be stopped. As though I've waited so very long that they just push their way out with a spasm and a flood and give but the smallest relief.

The pressure mounts, my cock so fully hard and aware and driven against the firmness of the heavy cloth and I wonder that I won't blow before I chance to even wake fully. Soft and slightly cool hands reach deftly around and under my ass, one to cup my heavy balls and one to slide achingly up my hardness, base to tip. This elicits a new, persistent and more forceful groaning. Nearly a growl, as I waken to the next level and in a murky twilight find you turning me to my back.

I'm not fully awake when your lips slip down the full length of my member and the fullness of my eyelids is not enough to keep me from unadulterated quivering. There is a dullard leaving my mind as the taut, wooden flesh of my staff is lathed by the moist pleasures of your mouth and I'm driven to delicious paroxysms that weave their way through my flesh and around my consciousness.

Just when my eyes are jolted open by a wave of thrill running over me, leaving ripples in its wake, mounds of soft and utter delight sway and flow over my face. Your breasts hold my eyes in semi darkness and absolute delight and their sweet rocking would persuade me back to sleep but for my arching back and pulsating pole, reaching for a nestling so soon departed from it.

Have I been groaning all this time, or has it been but one long and vocal sighing? I would never know, though the feelings inflaming my body tell me that there must have been hours of aching. That the sultriness and the provocation from you must have wrenched the moans fromout my very soul in truest tempo with my every breath.

Fully awakened only now by the incumbent thrust of your hips upon my spear, I stand unable to halt the flow of verbal ejections with my consciousness. The crush of your lips on mine and your flesh molding against me sends me into convulsion even as my hands reach and circle your ass as it pistons, grinding into me.

Your movements and the ferocity of your attack, the moloch of my wakening, continues to force moans and groans from me and these are met now with your screams and minces, pitches and keenings. The crescendo heightens and fuels but more and more lustful driving and I find myself shaking uncontrolled with the throes of utmost abandon. With a last scream – torn and rendered from us both – she collapses upon me, quaking and shuddering even as I am sent spinning down the corridors of blissful oblivion.

Hours, now, til rousing and never a dream coveted more, morning finds us yet entwined with your dew laden lips surrounding my half hardened desire and your luscious hair spread over my throat claiming your pillage.

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