The Cool Blue Room

When I have the apartment to myself, I draw the curtains in my bedroom. The curtains are a medium blue color. The windows get sun through the day, both morning and afternoon. The room is bathed in low blue light that imparts a cool, calm feeling. I wash my hands with lavender soap, for cleanliness and the soothing fragrance of the rich suds. In the bedroom, I keep my clothes on, as long as I have access to that special nook between my legs. I like it quiet--the door is closed, and there is no special music playing in the background.

I lie back on the bed, eyes closed, getting comfortable. I imagine myself in a romantic and sexual situation. I make up a scene in my head, conjring up an attractive and powerful man. He’s not necessarily rich or muscular but has a commanding and confident presence, without being too bossy. He and I know that his goal is to make me cum...and cum...and cum. That, he tells me, is what would really make him happy.

One scene might be Mia as a naive college student, working a part time job as an office clerk. The boss asks her to work overtime one night. As I see the scene unfolding in my mind, I have spread my legs open to caress my body through my clothes, touching the most simple of places--shoulders, neck, arms and thighs with light soothing strokes. I imagine how I would feel to this boss, as though his hands, big, firm and gentle, are skimming over me, seducing my nerves into patient receptiveness. He persuades me to lie back on the leather sofa in his office and holds my wrists over my head, pinning them down gently but firmly.

I resist him at first, torn between desire and shame. I twist away from his advances, try to plead my way out of the situation. Of course, Mia the woman lying in the cool blue room knows that resistance merely fuels the man's intentions. The more she begs to be released, the more forcefully he presses her, his free hand roaming over her body, discovering the places that are most sensitive. Oh, how she resists then, knowing how close she is to giving in to his pleasuring. She pleads for him to stop and she tries to stand up. He is strong, her resolve weak. Her cries of "No, no no," become "No, no, don't stop!" Gradually, she gives in.

In one fluid motion, the man rips Mia's panties down and over her legs. He presses her down on the sofa. He holds her thighs apart with ease. He kneels on the floor alongside her and grips her firmly. When she tires of squirming, he brushes her pussy with his hand, lightly at first, but then probing her with rough, demanding fingers. Forcefully, he kisses her lips, taking without giving, searing her mouth with his. Then he rains harsh kisses on her breasts, and ultimately, there, between her thighs.

By this time, the lying on the bed Mia has her palm inside her real life panties. Her back is tensed along the entire spine, as she focuses on the image of this forceful man and his much desired assault. She inserts a finger into her pussy opening and is always astonished to find how cooperative her body is, how unfailingly wet her pussy. She uses the moisture to wet her clit, and stroke the entire length of her pussy. She palpates the fat, happy lips and circles the tiny but erect clit, varying the intensity of her touch.

The man in her fantasy has turned animal. He pushes her hands away, makes grunting noises and buries his head between her legs. He is patient and determined, but highly energized. He has two days' stubble on his cheeks and chin and it creates a slight sting on the soft, wet flesh of her pussy.

Mia lying in bed rubs her clit now with increasing vigor, her entire pussy well juiced, the moisture brimming out copiously. Her nipples have hardened. Sometimes, she uses her left hand to check them, tweak them a little to slow things down. She has completely surrendered to her lover, her forceful and confident lover. She has abandoned all inhibitions. She makes throaty moaning sounds, to tell him all his touches are perfect, just right, please don't stop.

The pleasure rises gradually. It creeps forward from a secret source between her pussy and belly. Sometimes, it catches her by surprise, often though, she senses its arrival and leans forward to meet it, tensing her entire body, thrusting her hips upward so that her hand between her legs is hugged against her pussy by the elastic waistband of her panties. Then the warm waves of pleasure wash over her, me, Mia. One, two, three, spasms flood through her, my body. Four, five, six. Yes, oh yes! She is, I am breathing deeply, raggedly, blood rushing to the surface of her, my skin, her, my heart pounding exultantly.

Quickly, the thick part of the hot pleasure is done. I rest my hand against my pussy, now slick with Mia juice. The muscles contract and expand involuntarily, sending small shudders of happy delight through her, my body. I exhale deeply, moaning Mmmm, like a sexual mantra.

I take a nap after this, and give my body a chance to cool down and unclench.

That forceful lover in my mind has fallen back on his heels, satisfied that I've cum from his ministrations. He plants a final kiss on my pussy. I jerk away in self-defensive, so sensitive there. "When you wake up," he says, "I'll be hard between your legs. So keep that engine running. Be ready for me."

"Yes," I murmur drowsily. "Yes." I burrow my head into his shoulder and fall weightless, unburdened, asleep.