Music: Glitter, by Rafferty
So, here's what I remember of that dream I told you about (where you were fully clothed, but I was not).
You had a goal, a design that I didn't immediately recognize, when your fingers slipped inside me and our foreheads touched. You knelt between my thighs, playing my body confidently, a fingertip gently strumming the hot, swollen place above the slick folds your fingers probed. I was getting lost to the pleasure, and you talked me all the way through it.
"You're close." A statement, not a question. Slowed rhythm, greater pressure. The gauzy details of a sex dream, but with a sharpness that comes of having fantasized about you in my waking life.
"There you go." Your eyes stayed on mine, so intimately.
Then, moaning, "bite if you need to," and I did need to, and I came around your fingers, teeth grazing your shoulder, trying to stay gentle and quiet, like nice girls do. You seemed to feel my pleasure in your body.
You guided me through, softening your touch until the heat in my belly began to die off and the pangs subsided. Your lips dropped to my neck, finding my racing pulse as I caught my breath.
You smiled and asked me if I thought I had another in me. I remember feeling shy about this, but my answer was yes, I did.
You kissed me deep then and pulled my hips toward you, spreading my legs wide. I thought you would fuck me, as in, get out of your clothes right then and fuck me, but instead you started again rubbing soft circles around my clit. Aftershocks from the first orgasm began to melt into a new pleasure, a slow build toward the next one.