My Dreams of Mark

Note: The situations described in this story are false, but the people are real, though names have been changed..
Enjoy.

There he sits, in the slouchy-looking La-Z-Boy, staring dicontentedly at my boyfriend's TV set. I smile because I know why he looks angry.... he hates American media, and commercials irk him.

"I'll play N64 with ya, if you want to," I say. I would be happy for just a little while to be in unison with him, doing something we both enjoy, together.

"Nah, I've played those games too many times," he says, looking at the floor. I wilt just a tiny bit, feeling his eyes turn, anyplace but on me.

He's my boyfriend's best friend, and I've lusted after him since the first day we met. Not that my boyfriend isn't everything I need for a committed relationship, maybe for the rest of my life. He's slim (the kind of guy I've always been drawn to) and handsome, and he's got seven thick inches that satisfy me several times a day (no joke). But me being the hormonal 19-year old femme that I am, I yearn for multiple partners, many men (and women) to satisfy the crazy hungers that I sometimes (often) feel. I pride myself on being an open and very sexual girl, and I love doing the freaky and taboo. The only thing about Mark is: He has no idea of the things I want to do to him. I'm his best friend's girlfriend, and I'm more than sure that he thinks of me in a strictly platonic sense. I'm POSITIVE. I mean, he won't even look at me, not even in simple conversation. I think he may even hate me in some dark place in his mind. He's always been into "gothic" stuff, we dress differently, listen to totally different music (Cradle of Filth sound familiar to anyone?), and I've heard from someone I won't name that he thinks I'm annoying. Some of this is part of what drives me to fantasize about him, I guess.
But....

The phone rings. Once, twice, three times. Patrick (boyfriend) tells me to pick it up, so I do. "It's Sully's," I tell him, "wanting to know if you want to work tonight... Adam is sick."

"Fuck," he spits, thinking hard. He doesn't want to go in, it being a Saturday night and all, but he needs the money and he has turned them down too many times and he knows it. If he says no tonight, he may get fired. "Yeah, tell Jeff I'll be in soon."

I hang up, and my heart jumps. Maybe I'd get to spend some time alone with Mark, while Pat was at work. Maybe Mark would stay and we could smoke the bag of marijuana I'd been hiding for a special occasion. Thoughts, like flashes of light, run through my head... [I can see Mark laying on his back with me back to him on a bed of white linen, my legs splayed out on either side of me with his cock ramming me from behind. His strong arms would grip my slim, yet young and supple hips and slam me onto it hard as he came, deep deep inside my pulsing cunt, slick with my cum.] Only a flash, though, only a fleeting moment of fantasy...

"Well, this fucking SUCKS," Patrick says as he tears about his room, looking for his work shirt. He works as a dishwasher at a local restaurant, only a few minutes walking from his house. "I hate going in to work when I'm not scheduled." He finds his shirt, pulls it on, and begins tying up his laces on his sneakers.

"Dude, could you give me a ride home," Mark asks, looking at Patrick, but seeming a bit nervous. I wonder at this, Mark's known Pat for a long time, they're very comfortable around each other.

"Sure."

Then, to my surprise (and titillation), Mark turns to me and looks at me, right in my face. [God, his lips make my clit feel like it's going to explode, his face between my slender thighs is SO tantalizing... I'm gripping his head, pulling his hair to get him closer to me as I cum, oh I cummm all over his face!] "Do you wanna come hang out at my house for a while? I just got Grand Theft Auto 3 and it's pretty cool, if you wanna check it out...?"

Could I be on any higher cloud?

*****************

"I'll see you when you get out of work, honey," I say as I kiss Patrick and climb out of his car in the rain. Mark and I run to the shelter and safety of his house.

Once inside, I greet his parents (he still lives with them because, though he is 18, he is still in high school) and follow him down the stairs to the basement, where his dark room is located. I always feel a slight thrill going down there, like going into a dungeon. [Who knows what sort of wild torture devices he could use on me in our down here, where no one can hear you scream? ]

He waits and closes the door behind me, and I sit down on his bed. He goes to his computer, which does not surprise me. It's routine for people like he and Patrick, computer geniuses that they are. He sets up his PS2 and powers up Grand Theft Auto 3. Yay. I take the controller given to me and look up from my sitting position to see Mark standing slightly over me, shaking a bottle of cheap gin. A slow smile spreads across both our faces as I pull out my secret baggie. We share a treasured [sensual, passionate, yearning] glance and I roll a joint and he pours two shots. We agree to take a shot each time we lose at the game (or at intervals in between if we aren't losing enough to suit us). We spark up and get buzzed.

I lose several times. Mark doesn't as often as I do, so he is definately noticing how much gin I have been drinking. I find it harder and harder to focus on the game, or on anything for that matter. I notice my speech slurring, and I find it harder to keep coordination.

"Hey," I say slowly to Mark, "we should listen to some music!" I toss myself back on his bed in an act of genuine drunken innocence, meaning only to rest my swimming head. "I am too drunk to play any more video games. Sorry."

"It's ok, me too," he slurs as he falls onto the bed on his side, not far from where I am laying on my back. He looks at me a long time, and I start to wonder why, I even open my mouth to ask and he's suddenly up from the bed, back at his computer. "Oh come on," I think, remembering the many thousands of times I'd seen my boyfriend move to his computer to avoid me. Then I hear the music, the familiar driving beat of Rammstein, a band Mark and I like in common. It's always made me feel a little sexy, it's so rough and GERMAN, you know? [What would it be like to have him pounding your ass while the pulsing music throws you both into a frenzy?]

He sits back on the bed with his back to me, staring at the wall opposite him, his hands in his lap. Either he's bored, too drunk or thinking about me.... I hope it's the latter, but don't pray too hard. Even in my drunkenness I can see that it can't happen. This evening is full of surprises because he flops himself next to me again. I see, for the first time, his eyes wander my body and I feel a hot flush come into my cheeks. I think of myself as sexy; I mean, I'm no Angelina Jolie or anything, but I'm short, slim and well proportioned, soft and supple, and I always smell sweet. I hope he notices, and I see him focusing on the places where my clothing isn't covering me. My black V-neck shirt, tight to my body, only comes up to mid-ribcage on me, and my skirt doesn't leave much to the imagination. I like to dress sexy, and now more than ever I feel happy that I do as a matter of course. I smile to myself and suggest we take more shots. Mark, a drinker more so than I, agrees wholeheartedly. We clink shot glasses as we toast the next shot. As I pour the liquor down my throat and feel it heat my insides more, I savor the feeling I get of Mark's eyes on me once more. I bring my head back up from dipping back that shot and stand up.

I grab his arm and pull on him to get him to stand. This is something I normally wouldn't do, for us touching each other at all has always seemed a vulgar thing to do, and now I know why. As he stands up, he leans on me. I love the weight of him, he's so much heavier than Patrick. Where Patrick is slim and well defined, Mark is sort of husky and he's got all the muscle mass of a boxer. I take in the sight of his body, muscular and fair-skinned, as he takes off his shirt and lazily tosses it onto the floor. He's so drunk that, as soon as the shirt is off, he's leaning right on me again. I gasp as I feel his bare skin pressing so close to me, [my clit is hard, oh god, please touch it, suck it make me cum PLEASE...] he mumbles something about being too drunk, he's sorry to Patrick but he can't help it... I try to think about what he might be trying to say, he won't look at me now, only at the floor. I'm drunk too, so I bring his head up to me, and he resists, bringing his head down into my breasts, all but uncovered in my skimpy V-neck. I curl my fingers into the soft hairs on the back of his neck, and think of how horny I am, my cunt is slippery, my clit on fire and begging to be touched. All I can think is that he is drunk, we're both drunk, that's the only reason this is happening, and he's going to realize it, too, soon and he's going to stop. He'll want to forget it later, maybe he won't even remember it for real, I'm not sure how drunk he really is.

But then his tongue is lapping my cleavage, delving between my breasts like mad. I am drunk, I give in to it, not even asking myself about Patrick. I dig my hands into his hair and arch my back. This is my fantasy come true, my hot gothic man is here and is displaying his sexual need for me at last!

I push him from me onto the bed and he lays there watching me. I remove my black shirt and bra, standing there topless with only a tiny skirt and heels on. He groans as I pinch my nipples and toss my hair. I move to the bed, and I feel like a sex goddess as I get on top of him, my golden hair falling in waves from my bare shoulders around his face as I put my mouth on his. Our tongues dance to the hard music and our bodies begin to rub animalistically against each other... his hands are in my hair, on my back. I sit up and he runs his hands up my silky legs and up to my hips, finding no underwear at all. He raises one knee and presses it into my mound, finding my hard clit, like a hot pebble between my soft folds. I collapse into him, on top of him, humping his leg. He's not shy, he pushes my head to the side and whispers, "I've always wanted to do this to you, Sarah. You're perfect, so hot, always flaunting your ass around Pat's with barely any clothes, driving me crazy. I want to make you cum, I want to fuck you so bad!" I heard his deep voice say that and the pulsating climax that was begging to come out of my did.
"OOOOHHHH FUCK, MARK, UGHHH UGH, I'M CUMMING!!!" I scream and I wildly hump his knee, pressed so delicously between my legs. My clit thrums like a snare drum and I snap, my body spasming against him as we furiously kiss, my hot mouth melding with his... my darker, light-olive skin contrasting with his pale white skin making me more turned on.
I feel like I've wet my pants, I'm so soaked. My poor little cunt is feeling tender and lonely, so I crawl off of Mark enough to undbuckle his baggy black pants and pull out his cock. It's fully erect, hard as a rock, with a few little veins lining the sides of his 8-inch prick. I want to suck it, but want to get off again. So, I turn and I push my upturned pussy, dripping with my juice, into his face and hungrily start on his member. "God," I think, "I didn't know that he felt this way about me!"

He runs his tongue up and down my smooth outer lips, teasing the short pubic hair covering the outside. He dips his tongue in and finds my clit, swollen from his earlier ministrations. I shudder, feeling his tongue glide over it, tasting my sweet folds inside. I moan and swirl my tongue around the head of his big fat cock, taking it deeper and deeper into my throat. I know he can feel it, my throat now contracting on it, I'm pushing my head down so that his swollen prick is in my throat, fucking my mouth like a pussy. This is a technique Patrick and I practiced in our bedroom until I was able to do it without gagging. I do it rarely, but I am loving it, like a drunk slut, and I wish he'd cum down my throat, holding my head down on it as it spurts again and again into me. His tongue is doing circles around my cunt and I'm rubbing my hips against his face, and he plunges his tongue into my pussy, tasting it, loving the juice flowing out of it. I swirl my hips and arch my back for a moment, taking my lips from his cock to moan loudly before going back to giving him all of my mouth and throat.

He pulls his tongue from my convulsing cunt just before I start to cum again, moaning on his cock. He spreads my ass cheeks apart and brings his head up farther and licks around my puckered asshole. I gasp and wonder at the feeling. Does it feel good? Very erotic, yes, but does the feeling actually do it for me? I feel my pussy start to leak more and I find that I love it, it's amazing feeling his hot tongue on my ass. I grind my hips into his face again, savoring this dirty feeling. I'm loving it so much, I feel like a whore being exploited in a porno movie or something.

He tells me that he needs me, he's going to fucking explode soon if he can't fuck my pussy. I get off of him and he sits up, I bring him to me again and we kiss, our tongues mingling and sharing the contrasting tastes of our cum with each other. Our hands are all over each other, and he gets on top of me, the smell of alcohol on his breath, invading my senses and making me wild with abandon. He teases my pussy with his cock only once, sliding it up and down my slit then diving right in. His arms pin mine down and he holds me, he's so much bigger than I am, and stronger too. I watch the muscles on his arms bulge as he holds me in place, holding himself up as he pulls his big hard-on into me for the first time. We kiss deeply as he stretches the full confines of my velvet pussy, like a squeezing, convulsing glove on his penis. He starts with long, tender thrusts, and my legs flail loosely as he pumps slowly in and out. I feel like a doll, him holding my arms pinned on either side of my head, feverishly kissing me. He releases my hands and plays with my breasts, my nipples like tight buds on my chest begging to be touched. I can feel his balls slapping harder against my ass, and his shaft slides deeper into my pussy, now milking his cock for all it is worth. I feel the orgasm building up in my drunken haze. I am an animal now, only aching to get off, never thinking about Patrick or my commitment to him. I cling to his best friend and felt my cunt gushes wetness onto his cock as I pulse on it, moaning his name and pushing my hips up to meet his. He takes his hands from mine and gets up, pulling me up onto my knees. I turn my pussy upwards, allowing him full access. He runs a slow finger up and down my slit, my swollen inner lips protruding with all the rosy lust of a bitch in heat. He sinks his cock back into me, but it is not my cunt that he wants this time, and I sense it almost as soon as he pushes back in. He coats his cock with my pussy juice, pulls out and I feel his hard cockhead pushing against the hole to my backdoor. I feel the head push just past my little ring of muscle, he puts his hands on my hips and drives his big prick home hard and fast, without warning. I feel like my insides are ripping apart, but it's just like in my fantasy still. I imagined he'd be this kind of guy, very kinky and "into pain." The pain begins to subside, and my fingers on my clit are helping to adjust my tight anal muscles to his cock, just sitting still inside me.

"Are you alright?" he asks, showing me a bit of tenderness. He looks a bit worried, like he might have overstepped his boundaries by just a little too much.

"Lover, I'll only be alright if you don't stop," I growl, and like any male animal, he surges into me, hard and fast. I love it, it feels so good to have my asshole pounded by my boyfriend's best friend. I lean my head back in ecstacy, feeling his shaft slip in and out, in and out. He pulls all the way out now and pushes back in, all the way out and back in, over and over. I begin to relish the feeling of the friction between the sensitive skin inside my anus and his cock, now swollen beyond belief, now more like 9 inches. "Wow," I think, "a 9-inch cock pummelling your ass chute. How much more slutty will you get?"

I feel his hands gripping my hips hard, like Patrick does when he is going to cum. I work my ass muscles inside, hoping to get off too. I put my hands on his thighs, slapping fast and shallow now against mine. He uses his cock to massage the first few inches of my ass and it drives me over the edge. My hand on my pussy now is flickering with light speed and my clit and my ass both convulse as I cum from both assaults. He's rocking my body now as he thrusts, he's pummelling my tiny asshole for all it's worth and then I feel Mark's larger body tense above me, and he fills my asshole with his cum.

He puts his arms around me, soothing my hair, touching my skin very softly and whispering sweet things to me about my body. He fingers my nipples, one then the other and I smile and wonder at this. Still drunk, all I can ask is if I'll ever be able to do it again.....