A Dream Was It?

I remember looking at your sleeping face and wondering when exactly did I fall? I remember slowly drifting into a dream while I stared at your adam's apple. My thumb tenderly touched it to make sure that I dreamt of you. And dream of you, I did. You made sure of it too, didn't you, slyly slipping your hand under my clothes.

With my ear on your arm, I could hear your pulse increasing faster with every passing second. Or was it my own heart, echoing in my ear? Was I mistaken? Was your affection just a fragment of my dream? Can it all be simple and less painful if I pass you off as a lovely dream too?

I remember drowsiness fell as a spell on me, as the monotone rhythm of your breath fell on my forehead. Hehe. I could already hear you making fun of our height difference and see myself pretending to be annoyed. And yes, I could see that smug satisfaction slip into your smile. I never understood it.

My fingers gently wrapped around your neck, drawing me back to the bed. And contour of your neck naturally guided my thumb towards your collarbone. Your neck was sculpted for my thumb to go on an adventure. My lips could barely resist the temptation either. Soon, my thumb would travel further down and realise that it had awakened more than the pace of your breath on my forehead.

My index finger had reached the end of your shoulders; I softly glided it back. On its way back, my finger decided to take a detour, it climbed up to your ear. It hovered behind your ear and danced softly in circles. Your fingers stirred. Finally.

Your fingers tried to free themselves as they realised the sudden unease of confinement. Panic seemed to engulf them. They tried to move up, only to find that there was no room. Hehe. It was so much fun. They came down and dug into my skin. This seemed to calm them. They settled and seized ownership of my waist.

Huh. The calm was odd. And more importantly, I wasn't done enjoying your panic. I looked up. Your eyes were still closed. Too bad. I thought you woke up. Hmm. I sighed at your chest, wondering if I woke you up now, will you go back to sleep again? Or will you get as angry as you were that day? I never told you this, but my heart races very fast when you get really pissed.

With the sigh, my attention shifted to your chest. My index finger began its ascend from your toned tummy. Like a child, it traced the outline of your abs. My friends thought your body was the reason for my fascination with you. They were not wrong because there was, of course, a delicious sense of power in owning something so yummy. But that was not all. Not at all. And you knew that very well.

The ascend of my finger seemed to be hindered. With the help of my middle finger, my index finger climbed on to your chest. The devil in my head tempted me, and I simply couldn't resist. My fingers walked up to your nipple, and I dug my nail into it. You coughed. No, that was a gasp. And was that a smile you were trying to hide?

My fiery temper took that covert smile as a challenge. I had to show how menacing I could be. So with intense passion, I held your nose. You gulped a big morsel of air, coughed, and started laughing, reciprocating the same intensity of passion.

You wrapped your arm around me, pulling me closer. Your eyes locked into mine, and I melted. I was probably pouting because you were still smiling. The palm of your other hand grabbed my ear, and its fingers burrowed into my hair. Your thumb tilted my chin closer to yours. But I was not done rebelling yet.

I slowly reached up to your lips; your warm breath welcomed mine. A moment had passed, I realised, while I was lavishly indulging in my daydream. And you were getting impatient. So I softly pecked your lips and innocently licked your lower lip, asking for permission.

You grasped me tighter. I was at your mercy. A wave overwhelmed my head, and I closed my eyes. My habit kicked in, and I involuntarily surrendered myself to you. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel your smug smile. Somehow you always knew when I had submitted. My friends always told me they could never tell what I was thinking. You were almost always clueless about everything else, yet this you always seemed to know.

You returned the peck and playfully thrust your tongue between my lips. That smile seemed to grip me, and the devil in my head whispered in my ears. I lost myself to temptation again. Softly sucked your tongue between my lips, inviting it in. Then I bit it.

You were annoyed. And that smile was lost. Pity. I loved how it had riled me up. You looked at my face and then, with a sigh, grasped my waist. Moved my top out of the way. Your palm moved from my waist to my hip as if riding a wave. I was hoping you would drag your fingers down and dig your nails in my ass. But you simply pushed me on my back.

You climbed over me, your hands next to my ears and your knees on each side of my hip. I felt trapped. Was it my imagination, or were you really towering menacingly over me? Take your top off, you said softly. So it was indeed just my imagination? When the cloth obstructed my vision, I realised I was already taking my top off. Like a good girl, I also began taking my bra off. Good girl, you said. Definitely not menacing.

Hold it above your mouth, bite the middle and tie the ends tightly behind your head.

I tied the gag carefully, taking care not to bother your hands in the process.

You are beautiful.

For a moment, you stayed utterly still. It seemed like you were daydreaming too. You should let me cum inside you, you said. I was wet. I had been for a while now. You finally moved one of your hand, slid your middle finger between my thighs. Slid it in deeper. I muffled a faint no through the gag. I didn't know why.

You removed your finger and licked it. You held my cheek in your big hand, and I nudged it like a little puppy. Then you grabbed me by my neck. Looked me in the eye, your eye an infinite pool of sadness, and said.

Now don't speak. Okay?

That's not fair. How can I say no if you ask this cutely?

My chest danced up and down to the rhythm of your ravenous breathing. I wondered if my face, too, looked as hungry as yours.

Okay? You asked firmly this time. And this time, I knew that I was done rebelling. I nodded.

You removed your hand from my neck. I gasped. I wondered if it left a mark. You stood on your knees above me. Spread my thighs apart and pulled me to the end of the bed. The next thing I knew, you had already thrust your penis in me. My hands reflexively went down. You grabbed both my wrists with one hand and pinned them against the bed over my head.

You probably began moving. I don't remember. I remember my thighs tightly wrapping around something. I remember my back arching up, my head tilting back. I remember tightly biting my bra. I remember my whole body tensing in anticipation of an orgasm. Then I remember my head going blank and my legs weak. Also, the next thing I remember was you snoring softly somewhere close to me. Where did you cum? I don't remember. My head probably floated into the next dream about you.

What was it about you? I wonder. I used to be too drunk on you to notice then. Now I can only wonder. Why did I even leave? Were you even real, or were you just a dream?

If you were not a dream, will you let me hug you if we meet again? Or will you be pissed for real this time?