Midsummer Nights’ Dreams - Her Night 1
It was the third night in a row. She woke up, her heart pounding, the sheets wet with her sweat… and her lips waiting for his kiss. The dream was vivid and always the same. His voice calling her, his hands on her skin… she shivered in the breeze from the air conditioning, but it wasn’t because of the cold. She tried to rationalize this, figure out what the dream meant. She didn’t think she knew him but, if he really existed, she wanted to. She got up, flipped on the bathroom light, got a glass of water, drank it so fast she could feel the drops spill out the sides of her mouth and down her naked chest. She looked in the mirror and saw his face. Her breath started to come faster, her nipples puckered and hardened. She clicked the switch to dark, made her way back to bed. As she lay down and pulled the blankets on her, her fingers brushed the straining flesh of her breasts. She heard his voice:
You are so hot.
Her hands squeezed, molded, dug fingers in to make tracks in her own skin. One hand fluttered, made its way to the hot, wet vortex between her legs. She rubbed and flicked and humped and pushed, her fingers making her nerves sing and dance like a techno-discotheque. His voice urged her on:
Come for me. I want to taste you. You look so beautiful with your fingers buried in your pussy. Here it comes, I want to wait, I want… I want to come, Oh, Please! Please!
“I want to fuck you.”
YYyeeesssssssssssss!
