Butterfly Dreams

Under the light of the full moon, he sat in abject loneliness, staring at her. Her back was to him, a thin strip of gauze draped around her body. On her back was a butterfly alit a perfect lotus blossom. He saw her profile, eyes downcast, one breast silhouetted against the background. Her long dark hair affixed in a messy bun, small tendrils of hair framing her face.

He had poured out all his loneliness into her, creating a receptacle for what he could no longer contain within himself. To her image, he poured out all his hopes and dreams that continued to elude him.

With each brush stroke, with each color he painted her image with the colors of a passion long buried deep within. Each stroke he painted echoed the depth of the loneliness that he had come to claim as his friend.

The dark rich cobalt blue of the wings. The virgin whiteness of the lotus, tinged with the palest peony pink. A fiery golden sun nestled between the lotus petals gracing her back. The fine gold outline of the butterfly tinged with the color of hope that still lived within.

As he sat in front of the canvas, he wondered would his creation be the Galatea to his Pygmalion. Wishful dreaming. He leaned back in the chair, softly sighing to himself, closing his eyes to go to that place that was awake, yet not awake. Reality's grip was loosening from his mind.

In his mind's eye, he saw what she would be like, were she flesh and blood. He imagined the feel of her silky skin underneath his fingertips, the scent of her skin that would fill his nose.

What her skin would feel like on his tongue as he traced the butterfly on her back. How that breast would fit perfectly in his hands, what her nipples would feel like between his lips, between his fingertips. What it would be like to slip his body between the lotus petals of her body. What it would be like to be the butterfly in her lotus, seeking the jewel between the petals.

He imagined how her moans would sound as he licked and sucked on her jewel. How her sweet juices would taste as he licked her. How the soft folds of petals would hold his shaft tightly as he probed seeking nectar.

He could feel the crimsoned lips pressed against his, his lips parting to her searching tongue. The taste of her in his mouth. The taste of him in hers.

He imagined she would speak with a voice that smiled laughter in her words. He imagined her as someone who could see past his homeliness, his shyness and see him. He fell into a slumber with these thoughts as his bed partner.

He felt light feathery kisses on his face and on his neck. A finger gently caressing the shape of his ears. Fingertips caressing the worry lines from his brow, replaced with butterfly kisses. In his sleep, a part of him was conscious enough to be aware of his growing erection.

The bed covers drawn back, as the feathery kisses were now on his nipples. Tiny teeth nipping on his hardened buds. Moist kisses on his nipples hardening them eve more, He arched his back, eager to receive full benediction.

Light caresses all over his body, across his chest, up and down his belly, feathery strokes across his cock. The light scent of jasmine filled his nose as he inhaled more deeply to draw the scent deep into his body, into his pores, a part of his dream.

A hand was stroking his erect organ. The touch lighter, the grip not as firm as his. Wetness around the head. He spread his legs wider. The feel of soft, silky skin between his legs.

The feathery kisses are now on his glans. A tongue sliding back and forth across the slit. A drop of ambrosia. More licking, sucking sensations, drawing still more ambrosia from his organ. Up and down, swirling circles around his head and his shaft.

Wet feathery kisses, light as butterfly wings all over his cock, his balls, and his mound. Warm slathering caresses. He leaned his head back deeper into his pillow as he felt his cock enveloped by something moist and warm. Warm moisture alternating with the cool breeze of the night.

His balls held, being softly caressed. He had not known such a dream. And he was not willing for it to end anytime soon. His breathing increased as he felt lips against his balls, his cock held tightly by what he could not say.

All he knew was the exquisite sensation on his cock, the feelings coursing through his body. His cock head was once again being caressed, licked, and sucked.

He could feel hands holding his shaft firmly, pumping motions in tandem with the motions, the sucking around the top of his cock. His body stiffening. His climax demanding release. His hands clutched the bed sheets as he raised his buttocks off the bed, as his body raced towards release.

Dreamless sleep finally claimed his soul.

He awoke to sunlight streaming into his small studio. He lay in bed for a moment, vaguely remembering his dream. He did not feel sticky.

However, he was sure he had had another one of those dreams. He sat up in bed, trying to shake the cobwebs from his mind. He did not have that much time to spend trying to figure out what happened. The sun had risen he had to finish his painting.

He mixed the gold silk paint to finish the outline of the butterfly on her back. He gazed into her face and noticed a small flaw in his work on the lips. He peered closer.

There was a small drop of white on the corner of her lips. He pulled back, puzzled. He looked closer at her face. The eyes seemed to gleam with life, a knowing kind of look. He shook his head. "I must be working too hard. Maybe a short walk would do me good."

Still musing about his picture, he almost didn't see her. She was walking in front of him. She was wearing a halter-top, a butterfly alit a perfect lotus blossom tattooed across her back.

Her hair pinned up in a loose chignon. He called out "Excuse me..." and he saw her profile as she slowly turned to look back at him, saw one breast silhouetted in the bright sun...