Urban Fantasies: Dream Lover

Lips brushed a light stroke over skin that gleamed with heightened perspiration, bringing forth a shiver. The sounds of rapid, shallow breaths played symphonic chords as the instrument beneath it trembled. The body that pressed forward was eager, want and need apparent with each forceful thrust of the hips.

"Tell me you want me," words rasped into the air and caressed the lobe of an ear, fingertips trailing a gentle, too delicate touch up and down an arm. It's opposite wrapped tight around the waist, holding the victim well and still.

"You know I do. But this isn't the time, or place," the whispered, urgent response – a bit chastising in its tone.

"Has it ever mattered before?"

The unspoken answer fluttered between them as tender, moist lips moved with sure expertise down the muscles of the cheek to graze against their counterparts, breath a fragile touch on those plateaus.

"Hard. You know you're aching for it as much as I am. Why not just fulfill that urge to be an animal? Come on kitten; let's turn you into a tiger again," coaxing words.

Hips jerked back in response, curling into the rhythm both knew almost as if by instinct. Need intensified, heating the area around them as lips clasped at last. Parting, tongues came together and dueled for supremacy even as the hunter started to become prey. A moan here – a grunt there, they were both vocal as the physical needs took over.

Hands drifted up the hem of a skirt, pushing the soft material aside even as they gripped firm thighs, and lifted the weight with ease onto a nearby table. The sturdy oak seemed built for their purpose; minus the flower pot, set to the side after a deft catch from a near fall.

Those same hands drifted south and made short work to the buttons that hindered their mutual goal. Sighs of relief and need mingled as they came together at last, their body's urgent desire being met.

Lips came in contact with a nipple and sucked hard on its sensitive point, teeth pressed with just enough force to bring pleasurable pain. Liquid pooled between them as craving was both satisfied and heightened.

"Don't stop. MMM-mmm. I couldn't stand it if you did."

"I'd never forgive myself – you feel incredible."

Legs corded themselves about the waist, back arching to give more freedom to those searching lips; points hurting with their desire. "Every time I'd swear you get better."

"You're amazing." Breath hitching even as hips pummeled.

"So.... are you." The sweet smack as flesh met flesh added depth to their song. Fingertips gripped hold of their perch, digging eight small crescents into the back of shoulders.

"Sing for me, birdy."

"Scare me, kitten."

And just like that everything started happening at once – and it seemed that every time was similar, but also its own entity.

The pace of thundering hips doubled, sending that song into a higher pitch of what would have been longer maintained screams had that mouth not become muffled by the skin of a shoulder. The two strained together as if perfection lie between, and then one quivered, and the other turned to steel. Together they found release, pouring into the other as souls met.

They held to one another as heartbeats slowed, and awareness began to sink into their reality. Sweat brought a glow to skin tones, alabaster on tan. A rather nice combination many complimented.

Eyes met, satisfied and yet still flickering with that hunger – that insatiable greed of theirs, as if each of them had to want it more than the other. Pride had forbid either of them admitting defeat.

Strong hands twirled the body, baring the twin globes of a plush bottom ready for inspection. Bent over the table, nether lips glistened from the last orgasm, still sensitive to the cool air as sighs escaped panting lips.

Spreading the folds, sleek skin stretched and filled, invoking another deep moan of approval. Hips bucked against hips as each reached for the meeting between.

Rhythm and music took control of each moaning, singing instrument, straining together in symphony.

Skin against skin; conqueror invading the slick, squelching folds of dewy submission. Ignored was the gentle rock of wood against the wall as the perch swayed with the force of their motions.

"Yes, yes, yes!"

I'm screaming, fingers digging in and out of my dripping pussy lips again and again, continuing to drag from me the orgasm that's still causing my body to shake and shiver in after moments of bliss.

Ragged breath gasping, my hand removes itself of my – for now – satisfied pussy and drops to the bed beside me.

And I finally admit it to myself; it's good, don't get me wrong. I like to masturbate.

But even feeling and seeing and being with my dream lover, it isn't the same as being fucked or loved and feeling that hot, hard, real cock sliding between my pussy lips; warm flesh covering mine and surrounding me with feelings and energy of its own.

A tear slips down my cheek and I quickly brush it aside.

No.

I refuse to accept that he is my dream lover, that man of ago.

It just felt that way at the time.

I know I'm lying, but I refuse to acknowledge that he still is.