Fantasies For My Lover Ch. 01bybbonz1©
To the reader: This series of stories is an experiment, an attempt to put in writing a game that I play with my lover. I tell her stories in bed, whisper to her, about the things that we could do, if we were the type of people to actually do them. Things like threesomes and bondage and public sex. Dangerous things, erotic things, impossible things. I set the situation, tell her the story, and we use it to fire our imaginations and enflame our desires. We believe that great sex is 90% mental. And so, in sharing these stories, I hope they work the same way for you.
SETTING THE STAGE. WHO WE ARE. WHY WE'RE HERE.
I believe that both of us, you and I, are not sure whether to take this thing we have together to the next level. We are both married, with children, and not so naïve as to think that our individual spouses would so easily forgive any indiscretions we may commit with each other. And we treasure our marriages. I would not ask you to divorce your husband to marry me, nor would I expect you to do the same. The dangers of our getting together, under the sheets, making love, are immediate and brutal. We could, with one act, destroy two families, hurt our spouses deeply, and throw our children's lives into chaos. We are not naïve, you and I. We are fully cognizant of the dangerous waters in which we swim.
And yet... And yet we are drawn together, in a way that's hard to describe. It's as if there's an inexorable force binding us together. As if we're in two orbits, unable to pull away, yet unable to meet up, for fear of a catastrophic, yet intensely fulfilling collision. We have a history, you and I. Not just in the years we've known each other in this world, but in the metaphysical one as well. We've both had the dreams, of being together in past lives, of being a couple defined by passion and intellect and undying love. How can two people have exactly the same dream, if there is not a connection that defies rational explanation? Our friends would laugh at the idea. Our acquaintances would mock. And our spouses would wonder. The binding is there. Else why would our paths cross again and again?
We have stood on the precipice a long, long while. Balanced ourselves between friendship and true intimacy. Heightened the anticipation. Measured with trepidation the long, awful fall that could result. Wondered whether, in jumping forward, we would be giving up a long-lasting friendship. To many people, we are already shameful, cheating adulterers. We have shared intimate details. Stolen kisses here and there. Made plans, pretended to be single, run away for afternoon excursions.
Yet never have we shared of each other in the way of lovers.
Never have I felt you tremble under my touch.
Never have I felt the beat of your heart against mine.
Though it consumes us, it may never be. But what may be, may be this...
THE STORY I WHISPER TO HER:
It's a Tuesday. A Tuesday like any other Tuesday. I pick you up for lunch at your office and we speak of work things as I drive. As we pass our usual restaurant, you seem surprised, but only just a little. I've done that before. Our drive takes us past the outskirts of town, past the point where anyone might know us. When I pull into the business hotel parking lot, you're about to protest, or ask a question. But I've anticipated that. "Relax," I say. "I have a plan. And it's not what you think at all."
Somehow, for some reason, you trust me. Perhaps it's because you know that I live by the rule that No means No. So you'll always have that to fall back on. But I can tell that your curiosity has been piqued.
We enter the hotel through the back. No need to walk you past the front desk. The room card is in my pocket. I have a speech prepared in case you refuse to go into the room. But maybe you're wondering to see how far I'll go. Or maybe you're happy to see that I'm finally taking charge. Or maybe you just don't know what to do. Whatever the case, you step inside.
It's your typical business class hotel room. Comfortable queen size bed. A desk. TV. Charging station. Coffee maker. Heavy drapes, pulled tight. Air conditioning on too high. Chilly. I can't help myself, though I know I should. I look to see if your nipples are poking out in the cold. They do that. We've joked about it. You even have a word for it. They are. You shiver. I leave you there in the doorway and go to adjust the thermostat.
You immediately see that I've prepared the room with a bottle of our favorite wine and two real wine glasses. You uncork it and pour while I adjust the drapes so the room is dimly lit with sunlight. Cozy. Intimate. We toast like we usually do and gulp down big swallows of wine. You're nervous about what I intend. I'm nervous about what you'll think.
"What's your plan?" you ask, your eyes looking anywhere but the bed. I understand. Trust only goes so far. Especially given the signals I've been sending out the last few months. I don't blame you. Neither wants to hurt the other. And this scenario is so bizarre. Not what you were expecting at all.
"My plan," I say, "is very simple. Extremely simple. I want to touch you. Feel your skin on my skin. Taste the pulse in your neck. Lie with you atop me, beside me, underneath me, so we can feel what it would be like if our lives weren't like they are. My plan is to enjoy your body without taking that last and final step. To go to the very edge with you. To feel you wrapped around me. Not all the way. Not inside you. But to the edge. To the point where it can still be our secret. Where nobody needs to know. Where nobody gets hurt by our actions."
You understand this. I know you will because as much as I fear that you don't feel about me the way I do about you, I feel my fears are probably groundless. We're not soul mates, you and I. Not destined to be married in this lifetime. But we do have that binding. We were together in a past life, and will be in a future life, but for now we have to make do with touching and caressing and anything but that. And to be honest, if we never get anywhere but where we are now, I won't be all that upset. I won't destroy our lives for seven minutes of pleasure. But there is something we can have if we follow this plan.
And so you stand before me as I sit on the bed, your empty wine glass on the desk and your hands at your sides. You want to see what happens next. You want to be led. You like that. I know you.
Starting at the bottom I unbutton your blouse, releasing the silky material. Then watch as you shrug it off your shoulders and it flutters to the floor. I unclasp your slacks and you look at me with a question on your lips, but it goes unspoken as they drop to the ground.
I assure you, "You're no more naked now than you were at your summer party in that bikini." Your underwear is plain, a cream colored bra and matching panties. You weren't expecting this. Didn't dress for it. Though you've told me that you have a nice collection of sexy underthings. You torture me with that knowledge. Though your bra is somewhat padded, the nubs of your hard nipples are plainly visible. "Are you still cold?'" I ask, though with you it could be excitement or nothing at all. You nod, looking down at me, your eyes bright with excitement, and I reply, "We'll be under the covers in just a minute." I think I see you shiver at that.
I tilt my head back in a gesture. You pause, as if making a decision. Then bend over so I can unhook your bra strap. You let it fall off, over your arms, and I get my first full look at your firm breasts, the ones I've seen in those dreams we've shared. They're like a succulent fruit, waiting to be tasted. I have to physically restrain myself. I can't deviate from the plan.
The next step is the hardest to take. It's the one where I fear you're most likely to say "No. No farther." I slip my fingers into the top of your panties and slowly begin to pull them down, waiting for that inevitable protest. It doesn't come. Your panties fall to the floor, joining the rest of your clothes. I force my eyes to slowly travel up from your feet, along your legs, before settling on your lap. Your pussy patch is neatly trimmed. You told me once that you shave it that way. You torture me with nuggets like that all the time.
The dreams haven't prepared me for the reality. You're beautiful. Not in the American bimbo way. But like Athena. Or the Scandinavian princesses that are part of your heritage. It's hard to keep from trembling. And hard to keep from checking to see if my hardness is visible to you.
The top of your slit is visible in the dusky light. The top that protects your hood that protects your clit. Your clit. I restrain myself from leaning forward to savagely lick your clit. I desperately want to hear you gasp and cry out at my touch. I do lean forward, but only to kiss your belly button. Your skin is cool and dry. I feel my lips must be on fire.
I continue to inspect your thin body, the play of the curves at your waist, the ripples of your rib cage. Your breasts are prominent on your torso. Beckoning. Inviting. I know without knowing that playing with your breasts will turn your legs to water, will bring you to your knees and shards of pleasure to every extremity. Sucking on your nipple will literally make your toes curl.
You stand before me, nude save for your high heel shoes. I tell you the rest of the plan. "Here's the rest of the plan. While you take off your shoes, I'm going to strip off everything except my underwear. That's our protective barrier. That's the one thing that can't come off. As long as that's on, we can share this bed. And share with each other as much as we can."
You ask the expected question: why you're naked and I'm partly dressed. "It's because your panties are too easy to sweep aside. If my cock is free, I can too easily push aside your panty and press myself inside you. I've thought this all the way through, replayed it in my mind. This way, the only way we can go too far is if we both agree to go too far."
I'm down to my briefs almost as fast as you've undone and slipped out of your shoes. We slip under the covers, between the sheets, the fabric almost frigid on our skin. I give you a quick kiss, nothing more than lips brushing lips, then pull you atop me, your breasts crushing against my chest. Our limbs are aligned and I'm finally able to do what I've only dreamed of. Starting at your shoulder blades, I slowly run my hands over your bare skin, down your back, over your flanks, to the back of your thighs. I could reach between your legs and find your hot wetness, but there will be time enough for that. For now, just caressing your smooth skin is enough.
Instead, I grab your ass and pull you tight against me. My cock is sandwiched between us, and I imagine I can feel your slit wrapping around it, even through the cloth of my shorts. This is why I had to be the one to keep wearing something. Your thin panties would be no match for my hard cock.
I can't remember ever being this hard. I'm throbbing and I'm sure you must be able to feel it. My instincts take over and I thrust up at you. I can't help it. You press back down against me and suddenly we're humping, fucking with everything but the penetration. It's exhilarating and torturous at the same time. Neither of us speak. There's no need for words. We're completely in sync, playing off each other, taking the lead from each other. I wriggle beneath you. You slide atop me. If my cock weren't imprisoned, it would be deep, deep inside you. It seems worth it, right now.
Instead, I slide you up my body, pulling you up by the waist. It's time to sample the soft flesh of your breasts. I capture a nipple in my mouth and roll it around. Now you're not so quiet. Now you're moaning and writhing and pressing your tit farther into my mouth. I tongue you and suck on you and nibble on you, and then switch to the other tit to give it the same treatment. You scissor your legs open and greedily rub your slit along my body. Finally, the dual sensations are too much for you and you lever yourself up to sit astride me, stealing your breasts away from my hungry mouth.
But now I have the explicit pleasure of looking up at your nude body. My hands rise to cup your breasts. You shake out your hair and smile that smile. Then reach back and rub my cock through my shorts. Now your grin is evil. Not that I should expect anything less.
I consider my options, absently rolling your nipples between my fingers. Revenge is clearly called for here. Not only are you teasing my cock, you're rubbing your feet along the backs of my legs. Locking eyes with you, I slowly let my fingers trail down. Down along the round flesh of your beautiful breasts. Down along the flat plane of your stomach. Down through the thin patch of hair. Down to the soft mounds of your pussy. You hesitate only a second, then adjust so that there's a little more room between us. Just enough to squeeze my hand inside.
I don't hesitate. Your hand has paused in its teasing stroking of my cock, resting on the rod inside those tight shorts. I press my fingers in between your pussy lips. They spread naturally and your hot wetness greets my digits. Seductively, teasingly, I run my fingers up and down your valley, using my thumb to thrum against your clit. You may think you have the franchise on making a person crazy, but I also know how to turn you into a quivering mass of desire.
There's no decision to be made. If I can't have you the other way, I'll have you this way. Crooking two fingers into the shape of an L, I thrust them up inside your cunt, even as you press yourself down against them. Then I'm finger fucking you, my own grin now evil as you writhe atop me, gasping at the invasion, gasping for more. I use my other hand to grab your tit and steady you atop me, taking the opportunity to squeeze and flick your sensitive nipple.
When your orgasm hits your pussy contracts around my hand, while you howl in pleasure. I withdraw my hand to taste your juices. You collapse atop me and then roll us over, so I'm now astride you. Though I know your pussy is still very sensitive to touch, I can't help but shove myself down onto you. Your legs raise and welcome me between them. I rub the length of my cock over your pussy, again and again, the rough fabric of my shorts adding to the intense sensations. Looking down at you, I have an overwhelming need to kiss you. This time when our lips meet, there's a hunger and passion in both of us. Your mouth opens. I thrust my tongue inside. The penetration that we can't have down below, that we must not have, is mimicked here at the joining of our lips.
As you snake your hand between us and palm my cock inside its cotton prison, I thrust even more violently against you. Suddenly, with a gush I can't control, I cum inside my shorts. You feel the wetness immediately and look up at me with knowing eyes. I can see a hint of mischievousness in them, too. As if you're telling me that you knew that this was going to happen. And that this won't be the last time.
In a few minutes, I'll be out of bed and cleaning myself up. We still have another hour of time. And I still have ideas in mind for you.
We've been to the edge. Now let's see how long we can stay there.
END OF FANTASY 1