I was dreaming ... once again; dreaming about that nameless, faceless guy who made me feel as if I was the most precious thing on the planet. We were making love, and I was sitting on top of him, grinding my hips against his, my nipples hard as they rasped against his cotton polo shirt. Except, this dream was different from before; this time, I knew who he was. As I had this thought, I heard myself moan and realized that the rough material against my breasts was real.
My eyes snapped open, and I found myself looking into Jaime's sightless, wide-open gaze. I sat stock still, my breath coming in gasps. I wondered how long I had been grinding my sopping wet cunt against his jeans. I could see my wetness on the front of his pants. After all, the only barrier between those jeans and my pussy was a thin patch of pink satin panties, made even thinner by my streaming wetness.
I continued to breathe deeply, still just staring, until I couldn't just sit there any longer. Jaime hadn't moved; I think he was afraid to touch me, lest I change my mind and remove my half-naked body from his lap. I began to edge away from him, placing my hands against the back of the couch to push myself off of his lap. His chest was rising and falling quickly, and his hands came up to grasp my thighs tightly, urging me to stay where I was.
"Don't leave, baby," he said quietly. "...please. I'm sorry."
I knew that was a lot for him. He wasn't the type to beg for anything. Most of the time, he didn't even ask ... he just did everything for himself. I smiled slightly; then, remembering he couldn't see that, I placed my slight hands on top of his darker, rougher ones and ran my fingers lightly all the way up to his shoulders. I heard his intake of breath and smiled evilly at my effect of him. It was nice to have the upper hand, if only for a second. I knew that, as soon as he started talking again, I would be back in the passenger seat, so to speak. His voice was like something out of a romance novel. It had always sent chills down my spine, and when he called me baby, it was all I could do not to jump him. And now, I had the chance. I'd been holding back for years, not even knowing that I wanted him so much. But now we both knew it, and I knew that I wasn't going anywhere. I was going to take this opportunity to live out my fantasy.
I started my journey by running by hands back down the front of his chest, slowly, with my fingers bent so my pink-tipped nails scratched the polo material against his muscular chest. I reached the bottom and started to go back up. I could feel Jaime's chest moving with his deep breaths. He was still just sitting, his hands on my thighs, his sightless gaze pointed toward my nipples, which were still exposed. I inserted my hands under his shirt, placing my soft palms flat against his hard, hairy stomach, running them in small circles up to his nipples. I heard him take an even deeper breath as I tweaked them between my thumbs and forefingers. I think that's when Jaime decided I wasn't having all of the fun without him.