It was a nice dream. The sun was shining down on me, and beneath my toes was all sand. It wasn't Lake Michigan, it was the ocean, and the sand was dotted with palm trees. I turned and he was there, Patrick. His skin was golden brown in the sun and mine was as dark as it got, the lighter side of peach.
He smelled like coconut oil, and his hands were dripping with it. I laughed and he smoothed up my stomach and over my naked breasts with it. I turned my face up to the sun and felt his mouth slide over my nipples, moving quickly as his hands slid down. Then a meaty finger entered me and I woke up with a gasping moan.
I opened my eyes to see him leaning over me. The sun was high in the sky and the curtains were open to the light. The sheets were around my legs, around his waist, and I was on my back with my legs apart and his hand between them.
Before I could open my lips to ask he pulled out and sank back in. The pleasure was startling and I moaned, deeply, watching his eyes darken. Another finger joined the first one inside me and they were so big I twisted the sheets and moaned louder.
"Touch your breasts," he ordered softly, and I held no illusions that this was to be gentle and sweet.
I moved my hands slowly up my sides as he fucked me with those fingers. "Faster, Aileen."
I cupped them and didn't move. God help me, I wanted to test him, I had, after all, loved the last punishment.
"Show me what you wish I was doing."
I stroked my nipples, twisting and rolling them, and the flesh tightened in quick response. The brace of his shoulders tightened, and then my eyes closed as the pleasure swelled.
"Look at me. Aileen, look at me."
I did and he smiled a demon's smile. "You can't come until I give you permission."
"P-"
"You may not come," he said and pressed on my g-spot. I moaned and tried to close my legs but he wouldn't let me.
Again and again he pressed and merely rolled his fingertips against the spot and I felt a wall fall inside me. Moisture rushed out and soaked his hand, my thighs.
"P-"
"You may not come," he repeated and smiled wider, pleased with himself. Through the sheets I felt a drop of moisture fall from his penis and I rubbed my leg against it.
He growled and the sheets were ripped away. At last, I thought, he'd fuck me, but he didn't. Instead, Patrick crawled up and straddled my neck, his huge cock bumping my nose and leaving wetness there.
"Lick it," he growled and I opened my mouth. My hands rose to cup his ass but he grabbed them and held them down. This made his penis go into my mouth, down my throat, and I almost chocked.
"Lick it," he growled again and I did what I could. I could barely breathe and just when I felt dizzy he pulled back. I got one gasp of air and then he began to fuck my mouth.
At last I had the power to make him come, and I did all that I could until his beautiful body was taut, veins rising to the surface, his head thrown back fighting surrender.
"Take it all," he said weakly a split second before his balls shored up and the come spurted down my throat.
When he pulled back and let go of my hands I sat up and coughed. "Pl-"
"You may not come," he said again with a smile.
#
He was right. We fucked each other all day, but that wasn't right in my head. There were times when it was tender, making love, when there were no tricks, games, or family names, when we were just Patrick and Aileen. I liked those times too much.
I was achy in a pleasant way, still naked after my shower, my hair drying down my back as I stared out over the lake looking towards Michigan.
Patrick was in the shower and the scent of his expensive body wash rose and teased me. I'd lost count of my orgasms and still my flesh fired to life.
The shower stopped and the strains of his baritone song quieted. It was a ditty from the old country, one I'd heard my father sing nightly in those only two weeks of time together I could remember.
My heart winced and when I heard him pad out on the carpet I didn't turn. Instead I felt his hot, wet body press behind mine, his arms come around to fold under my breasts.
