As her eyes jolted open to darkness, Amelia found herself in the last throes of thrashing about on the bed, vaguely aware the noise trailing off in her ears was her own whimpering. Realising where she was, she took a relieved breath.
Kicking back the sheet, she warily eased one long bare leg out and down until it found carpet, then slowly swivelled and let the other shakily join it. A trembling hand sought the lamp base in the pitch dark. But she needed to orientate her thoughts before allowing the shaking finger to press the switch. In a sea of thoughts, the young artist was content for now to just sit there and recover.
But two minutes later, parts of her skin and hair were still quite damp. This dream had been by far the worst. Unlike the last two nights, the young artist knew she wouldn't be able to just get back into bed and wait to go back to sleep. She needed to get up for a while, recover some composure and perhaps start to analyse the dream's confronting issues. As different parts of it came back, she felt horrified, guilty, wanton, titillated and ashamed.
It was set at a fully catered function at the mansion Richard and she shared. She recalled herself in it feeling so pleased they had been able to offer their large home with full catering to her best friend Clare for the formal launch of her first novel.
In the dream, the night had been coming to an end, the music had slowed and she herself had dimmed the lights of the indoor entertaining area. She was in the middle of the dance floor, looking about at the other silhouettes swaying romantically about her. Yielding to the gentle pressure of the familiar arms pulling her closer, it was the soft repeated whispers saying how utterly beautiful she was that made her suddenly realise they weren't Richard's arms about her, but Graham's.
She suddenly remembered while they swayed together that he didn't usually hang around for long at parties and could possibly leave straight after this song.
"Before you go, I have a promise to keep!" she reminded him, then started a slow shimmy down his dark suit until on her bare knees. Unzipping him, eager fingertips hunted for the soft flesh within, feeling him tense in surprise as she extracted it. Without hesitation, she guided the whole morsel beyond her lips as the music came to a stop and the full lighting returned, her friends gathering around. She could hear Clare explaining out loud to all as she lolled it around with her tongue that she was really missing Richard and had been denied this sort of pleasure for far too long this time around. As their empathetic comments died down, she closed her eyes in rapt pleasure.
The young woman recalled adoring the sensations of the penis stirring her mouth as it straightened and hardened. Re-living the part where she eased her lips back along the growing shaft, Amelia could taste that initial tang, and awoke just as she was wondering if he was close to climax as her dainty fingers took the nervous hands dangling by his side.
The dream re-lived, the attractive young woman depressed the lamp switch. Rising a little unsteadily to her feet, she set about untangling the light bed-shirt top gnarled so tightly about her damp chest and narrow waist.
Right now, she wished her husband was here just to hold her. But Richard was away in the States in the middle of yet another six week stint on behalf of the business he had built.
Despite their twenty two year age difference, she had willingly married him just over three years ago. Amelia had had always preferred older men and appreciated the fact that Richard took pains to keep up a physically attractive body. He regularly worked out whether at home, work or away on one of his frequent interstate or overseas trips.
The budding young artist had wed him despite his past containing two ex-wives, a model and an actor, both of whom he had also married when they were twenty five. Yet he had no children, and had avoided talk of having any with her. She also knew before the wedding that long periods with him away were part of the package of life she got with him. That suited her budding art career at the moment, allowing her to work all hours in the studio out the back without guilt. But she was starting to realise what her best friend Clare had meant after she had met him a couple of times, candidly warning her that Richard's priorities may lie in building an empire and taking pretty slaves as he did.
One fixation with Richard still amused Amelia. There were honestly times though when she thought to herself that she was just as in love with the penis as with the man, a point she often remarked on to Clare in their candid girl talk, usually after a few too many drinks. It wasn't particularly long or thick. But daydreams about it often invaded her imagination in the unlikeliest of places, usually picturing herself nude straddling him with it in her small fist working its mushroom-like tip about her opening and clit. Sometimes she let the fantasies extend to feeling its length slowly slide through her thumb and fingers on its way in and out of her grateful moist crevice.
Even in reality, her favourite moments were getting intimate with it. While they watched TV, or lay in bed reading, even once at a small private beach, she enjoyed laying her head on his belly and dislodging his sex soft and whole to feed into her mouth just like in the vivid dream. To his amusement, she would then spend ages with it dangling out like a lollipop orally tending what was inside while relaxing or reading, her occasional humming telling him she was enjoying the experience.
Her oral adventures though were unselfish acts. Much as she yearned for it sometimes, she'd been told that few of his generation were emancipated or comfortable enough to return any oral favours. He had only recently been convinced recently that making love with her on top was pleasurable, and wouldn't try doggy style. He was basically a 'missionary' man, But she lived in hope that he would surprise her by going down on her one day. Strangely, she had no idea what that would feel like. Given the older men she had mainly gone out with in her single days, it was an experience she was yet to enjoy.
But enjoy doing it to him she did. In their quiet private moments together she loved inspecting, fondling, teasing and mouthing it. Not necessarily as a lead-up to oral sex. Often it was just enough to feel it there between her lips, feeling the tip brushing the roof of her mouth, gullet or cheeks. Lately, her favourite game in bed was cleaning its length with her tongue as he was reading then quietly suckling until she decided it was time to drink him. She loved the build-up of noise from him until his final deep groans of contentment were ringing in her ears. It gave her such an enjoyable feeling of wantonness, power, pleasure and comfort.
The owl hooting made Amelia realise she had gone off into another world of what she called her sexual wish list. She sat back down at the edge of the drawer and pulled out the drawer. Despite it being summer, the late night chill prompted her to put some thick socks on before making for the walk-in wardrobe . Turning on its light, she paused at the mirror inside and lifted her shirt. There were still damp patches between her breasts and on her belly as she chose a robe.
