At first, I didn't feel anything at all. My eyes were closed and the room was so warm, I couldn't tell where my body ended and the air begun. All I knew was that I was nude---no familiar pinch from a bra strap or annoying fabric wedged high between my thighs.
Where was I? What was going on?
And as soon as those questions rushed through my head, a memory flickered alive in response: I was in a room, laid upon silken red sheets. A man stood over me, with his face hidden in the shadows. A hand---his hand---reached out and teased down the shoulder of my shirt. I shivered in response but lay unresisting as his fingers roamed down from my shoulder and to my breasts. His fingers kneaded my breasts together, bunching my cotton shirt sharply between them.
This was too strange I had to get up! I tried... I couldn't! My body lay limp in an unresponsive sprawl.
I blinked, trying to see, but only finding darkness here and deeper darkness over there. Out there, I knew some was waiting; watching me wriggle against their bedspread. I wasn't afraid. I shuddered anyways.
Slowly the darkness lessened, and in the shades of grey I saw the rippling outline of a man moving towards me. By and by, he came with quiet cat steps till he stood over me. I stared upwards, idly wondering if he saw me as myself or if like me, he was night-blind, and merely saw shapely grey silhouette in a sea of shifting shadows.
Who was he? Did I ... know....?
Suddenly, I felt creamy warmth between my thighs, leaving my mind to untangle a new question: meaning of the wobbling pressure against my inner thigh. I gasped; my lips bursting open to speak. My tongue dead in my mouth, I could only moan. Four fingers spread across my bellybutton, nails grazing pinprick lines across my skin. The last digit, a thumb, hooked down and slowly wiggled against my bare clit. My tongue choked a scream, but I could feel my hips twisting, his hand holding me still against the bed as the thumb rubbed lazy circles around my clit. My legs squeezed together and he slid in. I jerked, my cheeks blushing hot and my lips trembling as the pressure rose and waned inside me. Two hands floated over my thigh, and I began to realize: it wasn't a thumb inside me.
He was inside me. Pushing harder now, as if he knew I understood. Who was he? The thought trembled at the edge of my consciousness, fighting for survival as waves of pleasure bounded together in the forefront of my mind. My inhibition ebbed, and hesitation slowly rinsed from my mind. Who was he? Did I really care?
I couldn't see him, but it didn't seem to matter. Dreamy abstraction filled in the details for me. Every hint of sensation, every little touch, every trace of feeling, blossomed into a world of its own. His breath was hot on my neck. His lips were kissing wet circles just beneath my ears. He tickled my ear lobe, and whispered something.
A sweet nothing. I wasn't listening. I was far away and floating in a milky swirl. Tangled lines of fluid converged upon me, splashing wetly and soaking through my pores. My skin tingled, turning supple in the heat. I could feel my nipples rising into hard points on the swell of my breasts. The air was warm, flushing waves of fire over my body. Too hot, I shivered once and shuddered again, ignoring the nagging irony.
He moaned loudly. His hand spanked down; gripped at my waist and pulled me forward and against him. I could hear him grunting as he leaned out. Sighing into the still air, his hands fluttered over my cheeks before squeezing them tightly. His hands massaged knots into my cheeks as he eased back in again, punctuating his forward slide with a groan.
My eyes fluttered behind closed lids, flashing images unseen into my mind. He was cute. His cut was trim, his muscles slim and cut to perfect curves like a sculptor's mold. He smiled and winked. His eyes were grey to match mine, stony and fixed upon my breasts. He wanted me and I thought perhaps I wanted him more.
His hand reached out and tweaked my nipple, dimpling the fleshy button into my breast. I shivered and wiggled, feeling myself wobbling down against him. My hips having no where to go but down, I sunk steadily onto his shaft. I pulled my legs together, biting my knees closed in front of me to stop the momentum. He winked again, and surged forward taking advantage of his standing position which gave him the leverage to squeeze between my knees and hop up against me. Our hips suddenly flush against each other, I gasped. The sound hung in the air for a long minute till it was torn apart by the louder slurps of my lower lips clinging to his cock. He pumped lightly, slowly, making me tremble--my legs pinched together around his back.
I gasped again.
I contracted in spasm.