Basking in the glory of pleasures with which we met the dawn, your breaths became slower and deeper as you melted into Egyptian cotton covering the lofty feather bed. The down comforter floated across our bare flesh, lightly teasing my pulsing thoughts to savor every sensation I could possibly capture in the quiet sounds of the morning.
Rhythmic heat flooded any concentrated effort toward slumber. Peacefully sedated, you were unknowingly at my mercy as I nuzzled closer against your warm side. Bare body parts found their places: The smoothness of my inner thigh clinging to yours; my calf resting on soft hair of your shin; toes comfortably intertwined. I tossed my arm across your chest. Cupping your chin with my hand, I gently pulled your face toward me in order to inhale my own scent still sticky on your face.
My other arm insisted on staying pleasantly immobilized between our hips. My fingers lingered on the threshold of my own moist folds as my mind and body united in understanding, embracing each intensifying movement before approaching the next. Making an arguable attempt to enjoy the incongruous solitude of secret pleasure, I simultaneously advanced toward a more desperate exploration to which it rather excited me to imagine your response should you awaken in the midst of the event.
I taunted my opening with the tip of my index finger, allowing a flat portion of my wrist to press firmly against my alert and wanting clit. My swollen lips welcomed each flicker and thrust I offered. In the stillness around me, I was re-awakening from within, mesmerized with the passion of attending to my personal sanctuary in your oblivious dreaming presence.
My folds grew thicker, the stickiness warmer and wetter. The gentle prodding and pressing was no longer enough. I had to grasp my lips harder, firmer, even pinching them in delight. I grabbed at myself, thrusting multiple fingers in to play together in perfect harmony while my palm jiggled faster and harder against the haven of nub.
Sweetly agonized, I controlled the rising pressure of desire as my fountain spewed in waves of heat and ecstasy. With face askew I squirmed against my hand - begging for mercy as much as for more - teasing myself to a higher plain. Holding back, then quickly turning the volume up yet another digit or sometimes several at a time to continue the gorgeous journey of self pleasure.
I turned fully on my back, close still enough to feel the heat of your body, yet freeing both hands to satiate the insane pleasure. I tensed often, slapping, patting, flicking. I muffled my gasps, intent to take it as far as I could for as long as I could.
In the hazy shadows of the dawn, colors within every cell of my being transformed together in a choreographed dance. Quenched, I entered my dream breathing slow and deep. I covered my shaven mound with still fingers, a fine smile of satisfaction plastered across my entire body.
The Dream: The ordinary mirrored doors were extraordinary in that in the course of making love in a strange bedroom we rather enjoyed the position from which we could watch our bodies banging and embracing from across the room. We saw extensions of the whole, pieces to which we could look just inches to breathe in and capture as much as grab from afar and reclaim. The mirror, along with Karaoke feelings and the unfinished marble threshold in the remodeled bathroom, became the theme from which this dream unfolded.
Imagine a room with rounded, mirrored walls. Reflections extend infinitely outside the circle, echoing in waves from the center. The floor is gleaming white marble, solidly anchoring the panoramic view, as well as the mirrored ceiling from above. This room is magically lit, warm daylight creeping in from beyond the range of the mirrors.
Sensual non-human shadows lurk near stone pillars of various heights. Many different sizes of light colored furs are strewn across the marble, falling perfectly and providing safety in the mystery of this unfamiliar place. These sensual non-gendered beings are in place, anxiously awaiting but untouchable. There is a sense of excitement to know that they exist solely to observe. They are The Watchers.
Suddenly, I am the music in an orchestra of arms and hands, The Lifters. This is their mission, to lift me above. Upper torsos, both male and female all bear a striking resemblance to you, as though the musicians are the many different parts of your makeup. The whole of you is right below me, conducting with perfect timing so that The Lifters sway in unity, lifting their arms with fluent grace, lifting my weightless body above as if in worship.
My senses are heightened. I see, hear, feel, smell, and even understand everything at once, drinking in it in. Endless reflections surround me. A crazy sexiness flows in and through my body. The room is infused with the fresh culmination of our cum. Sensual undertones, sexy overtones, and soft whispers of arms brushing against each other as I dance across fingertips. The Watchers and The Lifters sing without words, lulling me into a trance.
I am sitting with my legs crossed in front of me, completely naked and aware that as I flow gracefully across The Lifters they are preparing me. The Lifters sing toward my openings, warm breaths easing in, overlapping. The Lifters begin to finger me, taste me, and I am wet with desire.
