I seriously doubt Miss Watson has dreams like this, and if she does she's not telling. I, on the other hand, have dreams like this all the time. How else do I get strange ideas like this one?
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In Her Dreams
I looked around, wondering where I was. I knew I was asleep and dreaming, but I usually dreamt of places I recognised and this wasn't one of them. It was a stark white room; a huge room, with no distinguishing features. Away at the other end was a figure in black. With nothing better to do, I wandered closer to see who it was. As I got closer I realised with a start that it was Emma Watson, wearing that short lacy black dress from one of the 'Harry Potter' premieres. That was unusual for a start: Usually if I dreamt of Emma she didn't have any clothes on at all. She turned around as I approached.
"What are you doing in my dream?" She asked.
"I thought it was my dream." I replied mildly.
"Well, who are you then?" She conceded.
"I'm Dave." I held out my hand. "And you're Emma, I know."
"But why are you in my dream?" She seemed puzzled now and so was I. This wasn't how my dreams of Emma normally went.
"Like I said, I thought it was my dream. Is it important whose dream it is?"
"I think it is. If it's my dream I can change how I look, right?"
"Probably." I replied. Emma closed her eyes and her appearance altered. Now she was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, just like most of us do most of the time.
"There! I knew it was my dream." She declared.
"But if it's my dream then I should be able to change how you look, right?" I asked. She nodded slowly. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the practically see-thru red dress she had worn to some cosmetic promotion. As I opened them she was as I had envisioned. Emma looked confused. In truth I was too.
"So exactly whose dream is this?" Emma asked, almost plaintively. She was obviously used to being in control.
"I think that somehow our dreams have become intertwined." I shrugged. I sounded more confident than I felt; something that often happened in my imagination.
"It's a pretty boring kind of a dream though." Emma said, looking around at the blank walls.
"Perhaps we have to make something happen?" I suggested.
"Dreams just happen though. At least I thought they did."
"Usually I suppose, but you can give them a nudge, give them a starting point." I shrugged. "At least that's what I do when I'm trying to write a story."
"You're a writer?" Emma's interest had been piqued.
"Not professionally." I said. "It's just a hobby."
"Oh." She sounded disappointed.
"I'll tell you what, Miss Watson. You decide what this dream's about. We'll do what you want shall we?" I offered.
She looked at me in surprise. "Why?"
"Let's just say I'm feeling generous. If you leave it to me it might not be much fun for you."
"If you're sure."
"I'm sure; if we ever meet here again, it'll be my turn then. Okay?"
"And we'll do anything I want?"
"Within reason. I don't want to be mowing your lawn all day, or find myself putting up shelves." I smiled. "Or eating salad for that matter."
"What are you talking about?" She laughed.
"Well I don't know what women dream about." I replied in embarrassment.
"Much the same as men I expect." Emma grinned.
"I find that hard to believe."
"Well, you'd better start believing, because I went to sleep wanting a fuck."
"WHAT!?" I exclaimed, a little shocked by her forthrightness and her use of the word 'fuck' so casually.
"And I'm pretty sure you've wanted to fuck me from the moment we met."
"Before that actually." I mumbled. "I've written more than one story I'm sure you wouldn't like."
"So how about it?"
"Just like that?"
"Why not? It's not as if any actual intercourse is going to take place. In the real world I mean." She grinned again, her hazel eyes sparkling, enjoying my discomfort.
"I suppose," I said slowly, still shell-shocked, "but usually I set up some scenario, some vaguely plausible way of meeting you."
"Why?"
"So that I can use it as a story." I said red-faced.
"Is that all? It won't be a problem." She paused for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face. "How about this? You're the handyman working at a cottage I've rented and I'm watching you," she gave an evil little smirk, "mow the grass."
"I knew it." I laughed. "All right, as long as there's no salad involved."
"What about shelves?" She laughed back.
"Let's see where it goes."
*****
The sun was beating down as I finished mowing the grass; so much so that I'd taken off my t-shirt, a rare occurrence. As I thankfully rolled the mower back to the shed the young woman who had rented the cottage for the summer, and who incidentally bore a remarkable resemblance to Emma Watson the movie star from the glimpses I'd had of her, called out from the back door.
"That looks like hot work. Care for a cold drink?"
"That would be wonderful Miss. I'll just put this away first." I indicated the mower.
"Okay. And you can call me Emma." She replied.
Emma? No! It couldn't possibly be her. Could it? I wondered as I cleaned my hands and then headed back to the still open door, my t-shirt over my shoulder. I politely knocked.
"Come in. Your drinks on the table." The young woman said from the kitchen sink, her back to me. She wore a white towelling bathrobe that even from behind didn't look properly fastened. I took a long refreshing pull from the glass, downing most of the cola in one. "Seems you needed that." She said, having turned around. I finished the drink and put the glass down, opening my mouth to thank the young woman.
Instead I just stared, my mouth still open. Not only was it Emma Watson, but also the bathrobe was even more loosely tied than I'd thought. It hung open revealing, well, nothing really, just that it was unlikely she was wearing anything underneath. I finally got my reeling brain connected to my mouth.
"Bloody hell! It is you. Emma Watson I mean." I suddenly realised how unimaginative that sounded. "Sorry, I expect you get that all the time?" I apologised.
"Variations on that I suppose," she grinned, "but don't worry about it. I don't anymore." She made no attempt to pull the robe tighter around herself despite my obvious staring.
"Is there anything else you want me to do around the place while I'm here?" I asked, somehow managing to shift my gaze from her partially exposed chest up to her face, which was sporting an amused smile.
"Well, there is something I'd like." Emma said, trailing her finger down from her throat to between her barely concealed breasts.
I watched mesmerised, but thinking 'Shelves. I bet it's shelves. It's always shelves.'
"If you could, I'd like you to make love to me across that kitchen table." She said in what seemed to be a serious voice.
My dick, which had been hardening for some time, became rock hard and tried to push its way out of my jeans.
"I'll take that as a yes, shall I?" Emma said, noticing the growing bulge. Her finger travelled further down across her stomach until it reached the loosely knotted belt. The 'not-a-knot' came undone and the bathrobe parted to reveal that Emma Watson was indeed naked underneath. She walked slowly towards me, the robe opening further, a strange light in her eyes. I gulped and tried to step backwards but I was already up against the table. I briefly wondered if she was merely teasing me. I looked down into her beautiful eyes and knew she wasn't. This was confirmed as she unzipped my jeans and grabbed my cock through my boxers.
"Come on. I know you want to, THIS is telling me so." She pulled my dick free from its cotton prison and waggled it a little.
"Why me? Why now?" I managed to say.
"Why? Because I'm turned on by the smell of a hard working man, the taste of his sweat." To illustrate this she ran her tongue down my torso, stopping just above where my now rampant cock was twitching in her face. Suddenly she jerked my jeans and boxers down to my thighs and then planted a kiss on my knob end. This broke my minor resistance and I picked her up, my hands in her armpits, and then laid her down on her back on the table.
Emma lay back waiting, the bathrobe wide open, her legs spread and an expectant smirk on her face. To make up for my earlier indecision I leant forward and kissed her sweet lips.
"Mmmm, I love your taste." She murmured. "So salty."
I kissed her again and then kissed her nipples, trailing my tongue down her stomach to her bellybutton and then lower, to the neatly trimmed thatch between her legs.
"Yes! YES!! Lick my slit." If Emma had only been turned on before, now she was as horny as hell. I plunged my tongue into the folds of flesh at her most private place, surprised by how wet she was already. As I slipped my tongue in and out, and up and down, she got wetter and wetter; and when I moved my attentions to her clitoris she came explosively, wrapping her legs around my head to hold me there.
As her waves of pleasure receded and her legs dropped down I was able to stand up.
"Want some more Miss Watson?" I asked cheekily, sure that she did.
"Yes, I want more. I want your stiff sweaty cock in my cunt." She breathed sexily.
"Okay. Here I come."
I placed my knob at the entrance to her pussy and then slowly, so slowly, penetrated her. As my shaft sank in Emma let out a long satisfied moan and wrapped her legs around my waist. I leant forward, putting my hands either side of her torso for a better thrust. As I began to pump my hips back and forth I looked down into a shining, excited face that smiled as I drove into her, running her hands up and down my straining forearms. As she whispered words of pleasure and desire I could feel myself beginning to sweat from my exertions. A bead of perspiration ran down my nose, hesitated for a moment, and then landed between Emma's eyes causing another huge grin. She began to writhe beneath me as she felt the pleasure build in her. And then she orgasmed again, her cunt clenching tightly around my cock. That took me to the edge too.
"I'm gonna cum!" I panted. "In or out?"
"Cum in me! Cum in me!!" She cried out as she felt my dick begin to spasm. She tightened the grip of her legs around me as I began to shoot my load into her pussy.
*****
Emma and I were back in the white room. I was back the same as I was before; Emma was still wearing the untied bathrobe and nothing else.
"That was fun." She grinned.
