Gypsy Dreams

His eyes were as blue as the sky at Autumn's peak. His skin was weathered and tanned and filled with laugh lines around his almond shaped eyes and mouth. His hair was tawny and tousled and kept long beneath a floppy leather hat. His hands were calloused and strong with long fingers. Fingers that wove magic in the night, and beauty into the air as he strummed his guitar while we sat beside the campfire.

When he spoke to me his voice was always filled with love, whether he was scolding me for wandering off for too long, or whispering the endearments he kept only for me as we melded in union.

When we walked it was side by side, hands locked together, fingers interwoven. He did not see it fit that I walk behind him like his dog, or before him like a shrew leading her hen-pecked husband. But by his side, as befitting a life partner.

We would not marry. Ever. This was my choice, despite what was considered the norm for women. My heart would not survive a marriage. Too often I had seen what became of women, and I was just too free a spirit to be caged and tamed, and eventually beaten down.

So I took my chances. If he was going to stray he would stray whether we were married or not- he was a man and this is just what men do. The only difference would be in what it was labelled. If we were wed his roving would be adultery. If we were not married, it would be that he had grown tired of me. So much easier for me to walk away, without the mess left behind before God and the law.

Aye, I would much rather he grow tired and leave for good, then grow tired and make me miserable the rest of my days.

This was the dream I had night after night, week after week, month after month. For the last year. Sometimes I could see his face. Sometimes I could feel his breath. Sometimes I could feel his hands burning memories against my skin.

Always we made love by the end of the dream. And always I woke up drenched in sweat, trembling and ready to cum. And always I found myself missing him desperately.

It was a bittersweet dream. Tonight's was worse than the others. Tonight I heard his whispers, and now, at 3 a.m. I found myself awake and unable to fall back to sleep. I had woken up with my face buried in a tear soaked pillow, drawn up with my knees beneath me in fetal position. My right hand was clenched between my thighs and as I woke my hand pressed hard against my clit and I came, calling his name in a broken whisper.

"Phillip..."

The first problem I found with this was that I had never known a Phillip. Not a Phil, a Bill or even a Will. I'd been with a Dan once. And a Jim. Never a Phil. So why did I miss him so? I didn't even know him.

The dream was still so vivid. It wouldn't leave me. So I got up, booted up my computer and began to write it as I remembered it. Maybe something would click. Maybe I would see his face. Remember a last name. As a writer and journalist, research was second nature. If he existed out there, I would find him. But as long as I failed to record the dream upon awaking, he would remain a mystery. For as the days meandered on, the memory of my dreams grew distant and then forgotten.

My second problem became apparent as I recalled the details as I typed. I had just realized something devastating. He wasn't out there now. He couldn't be. The dream took place in a different era. There was a covered wagon, a campfire. Horses. And my gown was not ordinary clothing like I would wear or see today. I had a bodice that laced up the front, was cut very low and pushed my breasts up so that they nearly spilled over the low cut neckline.

Not exactly the type of fashions I normally wear these days.

My hair was different, as well. Although it was still long, in my dream it was full and curling all the way down my back, past my butt, from what I could feel. Thick tresses that fell about my face and down my back. I remembered how my hair felt as it tickled my naked skin when he slipped my dress down and off my body. I actually felt him tugging the shoulders and sleeves down my slender tanned arms, over my breasts so that they spilled out, perspiration glistening in the firelight. My nipples ached just recalling the moment now as I typed.

I groaned as I felt the familiar tingling between my legs. I needed him desperately. Only I didn't know who he was. And more likely than not, he probably didn't even exist.

I finished typing as many of the details that I could remember then saved the copy and shut down my Mac. I had to work in the morning, I had to try to sleep. I crawled back into my queen sized bed, the sheets crisp and cold, the quilts heavy on my body as I turned over onto my side and burrowed deeply, hoping to dream of Phillip again.

***

"I've been waiting for you," he said, holding his hand out to me. "It saddens me when you leave like that."

He embraced me, and I willingly went to him, resting my face against his chest. Fresh air, campfire and leather filled my senses as my nose and cheek nuzzled his shirt, worn and soft. His lips brushed the tender skin below my ear and I shivered.

A bedroll lay open and inviting beside the roaring fire at the center of camp. Without a word he led me to the makeshift bed, tugging me gently to the ground as he knelt on the quilted material. The night air was cool, and grew even cooler as my body fevered beneath his roving hands. He cupped and gently squeezed an aching breast with one hand, as his other cradled my head and gently lifted my head upward to accept his all consuming kiss.

His lips were playful and gentle, darting and licking and seeking out my own as he parted my mouth in a deep, commanding kiss. He stole my breath and I moaned in surrender, pressing my body against the lean length of his own.

Then suddenly his hands were beneath my skirts, cool to the touch as he massaged my heated thighs until they parted with my invitation to probe deeper. Strong fingers brushed through the thick nest of curls. His knowing fingers outlined the swollen moist lips of my womanhood. And then with a quick thrust he claimed me, and I cried out with relief. Finally we were joined, somewhat. My hips moved with the rhythm he played against my body. It was as if I were his lute, his tambourine, his guitar, his drum. He made music with my body as I mewed and moaned and cried out as he brought me to climax.

Skirts pushed up around my waist, knee pressing against my swollen throbbing mound, he released my breast and stood to undo the fastenings on his trousers. There he stood, half naked, firelight shimmering off his skin like melted gold. He stood tall and proud and his cock was hard and straight. I stared at him brazenly, drinking in his maleness. The sight of him filled my blood and my being until I could contain myself no longer. I lifted my finger and crooked it towards him, beckoning his return to my side.

He came willingly, parting my legs easily, the tip of his cock nudging his way to my opening. I froze momentarily bracing for this most welcomed invasion. He growled deep and fierce as the tip of his cock penetrated my slick lips. I forgot to breathe as I waited for him to ease between the tender folds. His mouth found my breast and his lips suckled and nibbled on my aching nipple as he slowly brought himself up and inched his way inside of me.

"Oh. Ohhh... Oh." I could find no other words to utter as he pumped in and out of me slowly, growing accustomed to the tightness, the sleekness, the intricate canal that was slowly beginning to milk the length of his hardness.

"Yessss...." He groaned as I rolled my hips upward to meet his downward thrust again and again. Faster and faster he moved, focusing his kiss once again on my mouth, brutalizing and bruising my lips as he devoured me both with his mouth and cock.

Together we cried out as he came. Seconds later my own explosion rocked my body and mind. Feeling his hot cum burn deep inside my womb was more than I could bear. I raked my nails down his back, surely drawing blood, as I pressed him deeper and deeper inside of me. My body trembled violently beneath his, pleasure rippling through my limbs in one intense wave after another. One last tender kiss sealed our union, as three thoughts echoed in my head before my world faded to black.

I needed him. I loved him. I wanted him. Forever.

***

I awoke to broad daylight, with the familiar ache throbbing between my legs. My hands moved between my thighs of their own volition. I satisfied the primal urges while I wept as the memory of his face once again faded away with reality.