Dreaming

I tried desperately to not feel anything as I watched the man I loved marry a girl I knew he felt nothing for. I had known the day was coming – had known for over a year – but, now, as the day had actually dawned, I realized I had never held anything for him except as a sexual release. Oh, he probably felt something for me, else he would not keep coming back for more, but, if he truly loved me, he would not be marrying this girl today. Instead, it would be the two of us at the altar.

The processional march continued and the bride came into view. She looked as innocent and pure as she actually was – quite unlike me. Was that why he was marrying her? I wondered if she knew what she was getting into. He had many different sexual appetites and I strongly doubted she would even be willing to perform any of his fantasies. My mind went back to the last time we had met…

I was in the bath when the doorbell rang. Damn! I thought, I had just gotten in. I got out quickly and put on my flimsy bathrobe. The doorbell rang again. Coming, I said. Hurrying across the hall, I opened the door. I stood back in shock. It was him. I didn't think he would be coming tonight of all nights. He was getting married tomorrow. I had been invited to the wedding, his bride saw me as nothing more than a good friend to both her and her future husband. The poor dear had no idea how good a friend I actually was to her husband.

What are you doing here? I asked him. He said nothing as he walked into my apartment and closes the door. I hope I didn't interrupt you, he said. I replied, Just taking a bath. He gazed upon my flushed face and brought a hand to my damp curling hair. I can tell. Why don't I help you with your bath? I wouldn't want to disturb you if you're doing something as important as bathing. I shivered at his words. He grabbed my hand and I followed him meekly back into my bathroom.

He took my robe off and gently helped me back into my bath. The bubbles covered me completely from his eyes. He took a wash cloth and gently began to soap my body. I shivered as the terry cloth gently massaged my breasts. My nipples began to contract as the contrast between the warm water and the slightly rough cloth became too much for me. Please, I moaned. He merely smiled and continued his torture. The cloth moved lower and I helplessly twisted my hips as I tried to relieve the pressure that was unrelenting. Taking pity on me, he moved his fingers through the wash cloth and, finding my clit, he massaged it gently. My hips rose out of the water as I twisted and turned trying to get the most pleasure. Panting, I came.

He smiled. I think its time to get out of your bath, my dear, he said. He helped me stand up. My knees were weak with pleasure. He gently wrapped me into a towel and began to rub me down. I moaned as his hands lingered over my breasts, before travelling further down and drying the rest of me. He led me into my bedroom. By this time, I was oblivious to anything but the sensations he created in me. He led me to my bed and removed the towel from around me. He laid me down and went to my bedside drawer. Opening it, he removed the scarves that were in there. He tied my hands and ankles to the bedpost. I barely registered it.

He began to undress. After he was completely nude, he lay down next to me and began to trail a hand up and down my body. Goose bumps appeared and I shivered. He laughed at my reaction. His hand slowly traveled up my body till he captured my breast. He massaged each one, rolling my nipples between his forefinger and thumb. They grew hard and my breasts swelled as he continued to massage them. He began to kiss me, moving from my forehead to my neck. He laved my neck, biting gently at the pulse. He continued his path downward and reached my breasts. He began to kiss my right one. He captured the nipple and gently bit it. He rolled it between his teeth before biting a little harder. I gasped at the sudden pain. He ignored me and continued on his quest for dominance. He moved his attentions to the other breast. This time, he didn't even pretend to be gentle. He bit my breast, bringing tears to my eyes.

Why, I asked him. Why are you hurting me? Because, he said. I do not want to marry her and I must. I am sorry my love. He gathered me close to him and stroked my hair. We remained that way for a while before the heat of our position began to arouse us once again. We kissed feverishly and he once again moved down my body. This time, he worshipped my breasts, taking special care to make sure they did not get too sore. He continued down my body until he reached my clit. He blew into me, causing me to shiver as my sensitive flesh reacted to the slight stimulation. Please, I begged him. He merely smiled before returning to torture me.

He slowly licked me, my hips rising before he buried his mouth into me. His long tongue snaked in and out. He sucked on my clit until I came and still he wasn't done. He continued to lick me until I had come four or five times. By this time, I was straining at my bounds. I wanted him, more than I ever had before. Please, I begged him, tears in my eyes, this time, not because of pain, but because if he didn't fill me, I was afraid I might die. Finally, he entered me, slowly. Then he began to pound into me. I welcomed each thrust, meeting them with one of my own. He made me come twice more before finally letting himself come into me. His warm seed rushed into my pulsing womb. I screamed with pleasure. Panting, we rested together.

You don't have to marry her, I said after a while.

Yes I do, he replied. I closed my eyes at the pain of that single statement. Even though he knows I love him more than anything else in this world, he will never marry me. Those words make me realize how little I meant to him. Did he ever care for me? Was I merely a convenient sex toy?

He untied me and I curled into a ball. He gathered me to him and began to arouse me again. I tried to stop him, but I love him too much. His touch makes me ache for more. Moreover, he knows this – he taught me all I know in the sexual arts. He knows just how to touch me to make me respond. He slowly caressed my body until I was once again screaming in ecstasy. Then, and only then, did he enter me. Once again, he managed to drive me to orgasm several times before coming himself.

We slept for a time. When I woke, he was gone. I knew I would next see him at his wedding. And I would have to put a brave face on, for the world can never know how we spend our visits with one another. Maybe one day, he will realize that I am the one for him and he will leave the poor naïve girl he is about to wed. But I doubt it. So, instead, I suffer in silence and hope that one day I will no longer respond to him. Then and only then, will I be free to live my own life….

We rise as she comes down the aisle. The groom smiles as he saw the young innocent who is to become his wife in but a few minutes. As they clasp hands and turn as one towards the priest, I know any hopes I had ever entertained of marrying him were over. As the service goes on and ends, I grow colder and colder. They walk up the aisle, smiling at the cheers of congratulations that the guests invoke. As we exit the church, and come to the receiving line, I smile as I embrace the bride. You look beautiful, dear, I say as she thanked me for coming and expressed regret that I had been unable to be one of her attendants. Yes, well, I mumble, unaware that I had even been asked. As I embrace the groom, he shrugs and whispers sorry, I didn't think it was appropriate. I smile through my pain and quietly slip from the crowd. As I drive to the reception, my heart hardens and I become determined to never let him near me again.

We enter the reception and I drift through. As the night wears on, the groom tries to reach me several times, but I avoid him. At the end of the night, I head to my room, alone, surrounded in a cloud of loneliness. The next morning, as I drive home, I smile for the first time since I had heard of his engagement. It was time for me to live again…