Wild and Free

Dreams pass into the reality of action. From the actions stems the dream again; and this interdependence produces the highest form of living." - Anaïs Nin

*

It was just a fantasy. A magical line of designer daydreams which transport her through the tedium and monotony of each passing day. Something, a thought really, that she had nestled away tight inside the dark corners of her mind, only to find the dream had become her reality, and now, here he was, standing before her, penetrating parts of her which she'd left too long unexplored. To open this part of her which cries out and yearns to be touched these ways from deep within her soul; it's the beast inside her, the lust and hunger for him, for everything.

She hadn't planned this, after all it was just a fantasy, one artfully woven though her consciousness until it became a part of her repertoire. She brought it out now and then, visited it over and over in her mind, allowing it to seduce her, a smile gracing her sweet lips as she ran her fingertips lightly over her taut, straining nipples as she imagined he would.

She dropped her sunglasses and keys to the table top and watched him as he moved to close the door behind them. His movements weren't subtle, but they were graceful and he left little mystery as to his desire. His desire for her.

It wasn't about her today. Not that he knew it yet. Not that she didn't want it to be. Not that she didn't long to be taken to bed and made love to, cherished and worshiped for the beautiful, sensual woman that she is. Oh yes, that appealed to her too. But this was different. What she wanted today exists on an entirely different level. She wanted to go back to that place in time where she was free, truly free in both her body, and spirit to kick away the inhibitions she's been forced to adopt, discard the societal expectations and just be wild. She longed to shock someone with her behavior, she wanted to lower her eyes, avert her gaze, close her eyes, stall her constant thinking and savor the feelings. The feelings of bringing the ultimate in pleasure to another, to him.

He took her in his arms and caressed her, running his hands over her arms and down the sides of her neck and his lips found hers. Soft yet demanding, firm and insistent, he kissed her thoroughly and completely, little moans of pleasure coming from both of them. She closed her eyes and leaned back against him, feeling the roughness of his beard, breathing in the spicy scent that is uniquely his. Making out with him was pure joy, one of life's little guilty pleasures that she not-so-secretly thought everyone should indulge in a little more often. How could she resist the little electric sparks that ran through her, the catch of her breath whenever she thought of him, that tingly sensation and the throbbing of her girl parts whenever he was near?

The sound of ripping velcro brought her back to life as she helped undo his belt and slide the zipper of his jeans lower and lower. Reaching inside, she found him already hard and hot as she reached inside and drew him out. He leaned back into his chair, up against the desk and whispered to her, "Let's see what you can do with this." She knew exactly what she wanted to do. She ran her fingertips around the head of his cock and down the velvety skin of his shaft. So hot, thick and impossibly hard. She ran her fingers from base to tip, stopping to trace the tiny eye with the very tip of her finger before moving back down, transfixed by the rhythmic beat of his cock as her fingers moved over his skin.

She wanted to taste him. She slid him into her waiting mouth and swirled her tongue around the tip, stretching out to trace the pattern her fingers just made. Listening to him moan, she worked her tongue unabashadly up, over and around the rigid length of his cock in wide strokes, soft feathery caresses, light teasing licks and then down the sensitive underside. Drawing him deeping into her mouth she felt the beat of his pulse, a steady tattoo against her tongue.

He ran his fingers through her hair, stroked her earlobes and for a moment she thought he would use his hands to hold her head and fuck her mouth to his own rhythm, but he didn't. She took that as a sign that he wanted her to take him where she wanted to go, as far as she wanted to go. To take him, inch by devine inch, far inside her until she could take no more. Filled. Completely. She continued to suck him and slide one hand up and down his shaft twisting and squeezing lightly, as he moaned his approval, stopping once in a while to cup his balls in the other hand, fondle them and marvel at their shape and warmth, at the velvety smooth skin covering them.

She wanted him to come for her. Plain and simple, she wanted to make love to him with her mouth, waiting, longing to feel the moment that he peaked, couldn't think straight, saw stars and stripes, went over that edge for her. Raw. Powerful. Uninhibited. Head thrown back, eyes, closed, body wracking primal orgasm. And she wanted to taste it, feel it, revel in it and lock that memory away in her brain forever. He tried to warn her that he was about to come, tried to push her away. It was a courtesy. It was sweet and it made her smile. Thoughful was not what she wanted today. She slowed down and mouthed him for a moment and waited for it, watched him through half-open eyes throw his head back, stifle a scream, lift his hips and come hard in her mouth. Swallow and look up, into eyes wide and disbelieving. Dark and soulful eyes that belonged to the object of her fantasy turned reality, her crush, her desire. She licked her lips and smiled up at him.