In The Moment 6

In the Moment

The fact they live twenty five miles apart is probably a good thing. If they lived too close it would become a daily ritual to check each other's O-face before breakfast. This morning when the texting turns to sexting they trade guesses over what the other is wearing. He says he's wearing his favorite jams with a t-shirt. She tells him she's wearing something less than her normal sleep set. They swap pictures. He shows his on the floor just as he'd stepped out of them. Not seeing any underwear, she posts a frustrated emoji asking if he's holding out. He says all he has left is a smile. She sends him a shot of her own sleepwear--a camisole with a matching set of briefs laid out on her unmade bed. It looks as if she had sat on the edge of the bed, lay back and dissolved out of them. The pattern looks like a teal and white Rorschach test floating on a pool of milk chocolate, the color of her sheets. He sees a monkey king and wolves staring back at him. One spaghetti strap lay in a figure eight while both trace down to the empty swells of fabric that held her breasts. He closes his eyes and reaches toward the screen as if to feel the fabric. He knows they must still be warm. He can smell her bath soap and moisturizer and something else just at the edge of perception. Sweat? No, something else. He's smelled it before. Once while helping around her home on a summer day. It was a hot one too. The kind that makes a body give up its real scent no matter what you spray, swipe or slather on. That pheromonic smell--

her

scent--and it makes him stiffen.

Opening his eyes, he is startled to find himself right where she stood to take the photo. He hears a shower running followed by the squeak of it being turned off. He sees steam wafting from the open door to her bathroom. Her shadow playing across the mist. His heart feels like it is trying to leave his chest. He feels a draft but the door to the bedroom is shut. Turning back, he sees the camisole begin to stir then slowly inflate from the bottoms to the top. He is drop-jawed as her body reappears refilling the thin teal and white material. He rubs his eyes.

With one hand behind her head, legs bent at the knees, toes on-point in the carpet below showing off the quarter moons of her flexed calf muscles she smiles up at him. Drawing a breath, she curls the index finger of her free hand beckoning him closer. Just a second ago he was sitting naked in front of his computer feeling his cock swell in his hand. Now he is standing before her sporting a full on blue veiner and trying to hide it. She lifts one leg dragging her toes up the inside of his leg stopping just short of his naughty bits. He had instinctively covered his pulsating member with both hands.

"Whatcha got there, mister," she asks amused as he tries in vain to hide his aching cock.

She reaches up, hooks her toes on his wrist and pushes his hands aside. Her lips part and a small gasp escapes at seeing what he has brought her--from its shiny pink helmet rimmed in dark red, to the blue veins like rivers on a map to the thickening curve disappearing into his own brass bush. "Oh my! You shouldn't have," she added with a giggle.

Till now a little flirting and light sexting had been their only adult-only interaction. Now they are together in her bedroom, in her house and not a clue as to how he got here and she's down like it's the umpteenth time. Cool like a hotrod at the beach. He's always had a strong imagination, but this is another level all together. Like slipping on a banana peel and landing in a parallel universe. The one where you can eat cake and have it too. In 3D!

"How in heck," he gasps.

"It's a fantasy, silly. Go with it," she says touching herself through the flimsy fabric of her bed clothes. She reaches beneath the material to stroke and tease her own nipples into joining the show. Then gliding her hands down her pale torso draws a circle around her belly button before plunging down through her own patch of red to feel how wet she is. Seeing her erect nipples beneath the flimsy material makes him swoon a bit. He wants to taste them. He wants to taste her lips and suck her tongue into his mouth. She watches his cock twitch with every beat of his heart. She wants to taste him too. She deftly kneads his cock with her toes.

"Holy shit, that's a hard one,"

she thinks inch worming her toes up the length of him. The color rising in her cheeks as her eyes dance across his well kept body.

"He's better in the buff than I imagined. Geez, this is going greaaaaat."

He sees the animal in her eyes and imagines pinning her knees back and lowering himself to bury his tongue deep in her flower, to make a meal of her. He wants to feel the slick hot tug and release as he plunges into her. To feel her hips slap against his. To exchange hot breath and sweat and kisses. The kind you can't be taught but by the lover you're with.

She wants to feel his cock fill her as she thrusts her tongue into his mouth. To feel him shudder and shake as she milks his member. She wants to taste their mingled juices squeezing out with each thrust running hot and coating them both in sweet stickiness. And she wants to cum with him. Not in her hand. Not alone in some dream state on the couch one cupped over her mouth as not to wake her snoring husband while she rubs one out. But rather with her heels dug into this man's ass as he loses control. She wants to make him pull out just before he cums but not so close as to make him lose it but just to see. To see how shiny his plum gets before he pops. To admire it then to guide him back in so he can finish and maybe finish her too.

He leans over planting his hands on either side of her holding himself above her in a plank position. His cockhead grazes her belly. She tenses at the heat and hardness of it. He starts to speak but is stilled by her finger pressed to his lips. He sucks her fingertip into his mouth looking into her eyes, eyes bluer than robin's eggs. He knows she wants him. He wants to talk dirty to her but his words are stayed every time by her fingers pressed to his lips. This time he sucks her middle finger deep into his mouth and notices her eyes dilate and nostrils flare.

Withdrawing her fingers, she takes him by the neck and pulling herself up kisses him deeply then whispers into his ear, "Don't touch and be still."

He is confused. She smiles and winks. She begins with his arms slowly running her hands up to his shoulders lingering to caress and kneed his taught muscles. She loves what it's doing to him. She continues down his hairy chest taking time to toy with his nipples, to kiss and lick and nuzzle his abdomen. She can smell his essence and breathes it in. It's difficult for him to maintain but he's determined. This is a dream come to life and prays it will last. That other universe can fucking wait. He's got his dream-lover's pussy to please in this one. When he starts to moan, she quickly quells it with a hand cupped over his mouth.

So far, she hasn't removed a stitch. She's in charge of this rodeo. Having to hold himself in this position is beginning to take a toll. Trembling, he desperately wants to be inside her. She runs her hands down the front of his torso down to his pubic hair where the color changes from dirty blonde to red brass gently tugging the curls between her fingers. Reaching past, she hefts his balls making him short of breath. Pre-cum drips onto her arm. She licks it clean before reaching back down to grip his cock with both hands.

"My god, he is friggin' hard,"

she thinks

, "and thick as can of RedBull. Oof!"

She tugs gently pulling the flesh up over the head squeezing more pre-cum out. She swipes it up and looking into his eyes, licks her fingers clean. "Mighty tasty there, friend."

He wants to answer but knows any word or utterance will be stifled. He's losing his control as sweat blinds him in one eye. He thinks,

"She's about to wear my load if we don't fuck soon."

Like she was reading his mind, she shinnies out from under him to stand behind him. Admiring the work he's done to stay in shape, she strokes his ass checking the firmness with a slap. She then taps the insides of his ankles with her toes to make him take a wider stance. She strokes his thighs stopping to gently knead the muscle groups. His eyes roll back, as she reaches around him to milk his cock. She squeezes it hard forcing blood into the head making it shine like a ripe red plum. She fingers the tip to lubricate it with his pre-cum

Caught up in a state of sexstasy his abs twitch uncontrollably in time with her strokes. He's about to cum when she stops and before he can complain sees her camisole shucked onto the bed in front of him and her briefs slide off her freckled legs onto floor before kicking them onto the bed too. He gasps as she climbs onto him grinding her sopping wet bush against the small of his back. Pressing her breasts into his back she embraces him covering his shoulders and neck with hot breath and wet kisses while her hands roam over his torso. She is driving him to madness.

Then she nimbly swings herself around him like a gymnast to face him and pushing her tongue into his mouth, locks her ankles around his hips and slowly impales herself on his throbbing cock. Her head whips back with a groan as she bottoms out digging her heels into his ass for good measure. Just like she imagined. But only better. The veins visible on his body from his arms to his temples are pulsing. She can feel him throbbing hard inside her.

His eyes clenched, his breathing quickens as she begins to pull herself off then plunges down on him again and again until finally, she commands, "Let me see," and pushing him away to see if her imagination was bigger than reality. She watches it jump out shiny and dripping with their mingled secretions. She sees the shiny red plum of a cock about to explode and gasps at how beautiful it seems. Just as quickly, she lines him back up and pulls him back into her. She grabs him by the neck and plunging her tongue deep into his mouth, bucks through her first orgasm with him. Locked in their embrace they ride each crashing wave of pleasure before collapsing onto the bed breathing heavily into each other's mouths. Sudden giggles give way to tender kisses. They both twitch as their endorphins wash over them like warm surf. He kisses her neck enjoying the saltiness of her sweat. Seeing her breasts for the first time he hefts one to his mouth then the other making her moan. He reaches down between her legs to find her hand already there tracing where his still hard cock had been pulsing inside her. He brings her glazed fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean. Taking his hand, she returns the favor. The flavor is like no other. This cocktail is theirs alone--tangy sweet with a touch of salt.

He jerks forward in his office chair shaking his head and gulping air. The picture of her sleep wear still glows in front of him on the computer screen. He is covered in sweat and spunk and something else. Something at the ragged edge of perception.

"How, that was... so real," he gasps. He goes for a shower and steps in as soon as the steam rises. Leaning against the wall he closes his eyes and lets the hot water open more than his pores. He retraces everywhere she touched him trying to recall that sensation of electricity and blood pumping through his veins. He even does it as slowly as she did. When he reaches his cock, he notices something. He knows an after sex shower that a woman's secretions left on his skin when first exposed to water are noticeably slicker. Almost like soap. But it was just a dream, right?

Toweling off afterwards he catches a glimpse of something else in the mirror. When he realizes what it is, the towel slips from his hands and his jaw drops. Turning slowly to reflect in the mirror he sees a perfect handprint on his ass. He places his hand next to it which makes his heart skip a beat. The hand shaped red whelp is much smaller.

"Holy fu...!"

Surely there has to be a reasonable explanation. It was just a wet dream, right? Although a vivid as fuck one but a dream nonetheless, right? He must've somehow smacked his own ass. He must have held his hand a certain way to leave such a small handprint. That must be the answer. A whelp shrinks after a bit. But that doesn't explain the slickness left on his cock. The fact that he was sitting down too. Or the scent of her on his fingers. His cell phone buzzes delivering a single emoji--the smiling one with hearts for eyes.