Dream Lover

You know that time in sleep where you are dreaming, but you know it? That hazy time when dreams come to you so easily; and even though you have no control over them, they invade your conscious thoughts. That's where I am now. I know I'm dreaming, but I willingly giving myself to this dream...

I feel my lover. He is thousands of miles away from me, but at this moment he's not. He is right behind me in my bed, leaning on his side against a mountain of fluffy down pillows. Not for the first time, I'm grateful for my pillow collection.

His strong, warm arms are holding me while he spoons my body. He slowly, sensuously, runs velvety hands all over my nakedness. I don't remember going to bed naked...but I am—totally exposed for his gentle explorations. I stretch out like a kitten and snuggle deeper into his embrace, practically purring in satisfaction.

He then sits up, no longer spooning me, but rather pulls me between his legs so that I'm sitting up too. My back is leaning against his chest, his thighs on either side of my hips. I feel the bright sun shining into the room, giving it a heavenly glow and can see his hands as they move up to cup my breasts.

Moaning my delight, I lean into his hard chest behind me, granting him total access to my body. There is total trust in me as I do this. I know he will only give me the most amazing pleasure.

He begins by nestling his lips near my right ear. He is whispering things...things I can't really make out, but his breath sends tingles and shivers all over my body, and my breath catches for a moment. He continues his nonsensical whispers, promises of pleasure to come, as his hands begin slowly, lightly skimming over my nipples—back and forth, back and forth. They are becoming more and more sensitized to his touch.

Moaning, I answer his movements by trying to reach around to touch him. Without saying a word to me, I know this is not what he wants. His hands leave my breasts for only a moment as he places my hands on my own thighs. I sense he doesn't want me to move them. As frustrating as it is not to move to return his touches, I obey his silent command.

His hands are back on my breasts. He is coaxing my body's response to him with each touch, caress, and squeeze. I feel my excitement rising. He feels it too, I know, for he incorporates a little pinch on each nipple. At first it's gentle and playful, but as my sexual tension rises he becomes more intense with his stimulations. I respond by groaning, encouraging him on to do more.

I feel his hardness behind me, so I know he's not unaffected. Yet my hands remain on my thighs where he had placed them. I wait to see what he plans.

His lips latch onto my ear lobe, and I hear him answer my moans with his own. This and the pinching fingers on my nipples begin making me pant. I want, no NEED, more. I need him. I need his love. I need release from the torture he's causing in my body.

His hands are slipping down my body now...his knees on either side of me hold me in place as he reaches around me and begins to tease the soaking wetness between my legs. His fingers know exactly how to touch my clit. The flicks and swirls over it are perfectly timed, as if his finger were my own with the same years of practice, rather than only a few months.

I'm crying out, not caring if anyone can hear. But somehow I know no one can because I'm with my lover in a dream and my cries are for his and my ears only. I take great comfort in this even as my excitement reaches a feverish pitch.

Then I'm like this giant nerve ending—every touch is felt through my entire body. Every whispered word is a tingle that starts at my scalp and runs down the length of my body to rest in my toes. My nipples are still throbbing from his earlier ministration and somehow the fingers on my pussy make the throbs there intensify.

I rise higher and higher with my lover knowledgeable attention and I'm desperate to go over the edge into orgasm.

Suddenly, the world that is my bed bursts into light and color and pulsing sensations of release. Oddly, rather that cry out my surrender, I quietly, lovingly drift. I'm aware of an explosion of warmth on my hip where my lover has released his own passion. I have the knowledge that his orgasm was somehow an extension of my own. Perfect peace settles over both of us.

I finally remove my hands from where he had placed them on my thighs. I take two fingers, swirl them in my own juices. I move my hand to my thigh where he had deposited his love and mixed our essences together on my fingers. Lovingly I settle back into his arms, half turning to face him. I trace my lips with one finger, allowing our mixed love to anoint them. My tongue reaches out and I taste what we created together. I then repeat this ritual on his lips with my other finger. His eyes close as the sweet ambrosia reaches his taste buds.

We settle back into our original spooning position. He's behind me, holding me tenderly, warmly. I'm at peace because all is right in my world for just this brief moment in time, in dream. I drift off on a cloud of oblivion.

Seconds...minutes...hours later, I wake up with the longing for the lover who is not in my bed. He is still thousands of miles from me and my soul aches.