Starting when I was a 13 year old girl in Bozeman, Montana, I dreamed a real dream about saying yes to men who were kind, who instructed me. Straight on for 11 years the dream was in my mind's eye when my hand reached down to my girl punani to make myself wet, when my teeth closed down on my hard girl nipples. But in the present day I'm a woman.
It is time to write the story of how my husband and I made my girl dreams real. I have my husband's permission to write. He is so proud of me. This story is real, accurate down to the least syllable and period, down to the least sight, taste, smell and touch. We are thrilled to think that a few women and men will read my stories and have the love and confidence to make their own dreams into real adventures.
My husband and I met a few years past in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where I was attending St. John's College. He was riding his big, bad motorcycle down a cottonwood lined Santa Fe back street. I was riding my old bicycle in the other direction. He told me later that he first saw me in a white sleeveless shirt and khaki shorts pumping my bicycle slowly in sunlight broken with dark shadows cast by the cottonwoods.
Later he told me that when he first saw me I was the most beautiful woman he had seen. "Ever." He u turned his Yamaha V Max quickly to follow me, but the go home traffic slowed him down. By the time he headed back I had disappeared. As it happens, our homes were just a dirt road apart.
Two weeks later, same thing. Him on his V Max. Me on my bicycle, still oblivious. Different directions. But this time he took no chances. He cut off all traffic in both directions and came up next to me. I was shocked. I still remember his first words. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I love you. You have killer thighs." We married a few weeks later.
My husband owned this amazing real adobe home on the old east side of Santa Fe, near Acequia Madre, with lofts, ladders and 4 kiva fireplaces and more skylights than you can count. We were making love one afternoon in the bedroom loft high above our living room. An old ladder made out of aspen trees was the sole way to reach our bed.
My husband is a New Mexican and has never locked a door or window in his life. Being from Montana, I had no care to throw a lock. My husband was reaming my punani real slow. The only sound in the house, except our cats down on the floor unhappy that we pulled up the ladder for privacy, was his pretty cock jamming deep in my cunt and coming out wet.
After a few minutes the cats gave up and spent their time harassing our 2 Labradors, chocolate and yellow. I was on my tummy and my husband's powerful left hand was on the back of my neck, massaging me but mainly pinning me in place. My ass high off the pale sheets, the way he loves, so he can pump my asshole or my punani full of thick, long dick. Whatever he chooses for as long as he chooses.
His right hand was free to spank my ass hard as could, scrape the skin on my back so hard, circle my clit, take his fingers straight out of my cunt and fill my mouth nearly to his wrist. He pulled his soaking wet cock out of my cunt and placed the velvety head against my waiting asshole.
Moments later, my husband's cock passed my asshole, his left hand impaling me to the futon, my mouth stuffed with his right hand and the scent of my own punani in my face, the front door opens and Whit and Jazzy come in. The guys are my husband's old friends. Their voices are instantly recognizable. They call out our names. My heart is beating out of my chest. I am not breathing.
They walk from room to room, far off, closer. Closer still. Jazzy says to wait until we come back. Whit says to head out. It occurs to me that my husband is still fucking my ass. Real slow, but harder, deeper.
Out of nowhere, Whit tells Jazzy to come over and look at a photograph of me. My husband is a fine photographer. I can tell by their cowboy boots on the wood floor that they are straight under our bedroom loft looking at the one of me naked with my back to the camera, looking back over my left shoulder.
Whit says, "Hey. I'd turn her around." Jazzy says, "What a piece of ass. No disrespect but those lips should be on my cock." I sense my ass wet in a flood of my husband's sweet sperm. Suddenly my body is struck with a lightning bolt orgasm, waves of shuddering sweetness. It rolls through me twice. Ankles to forehead and back.
We were as still and silent as the adobe walls. Sunlight streamed through the windows and skylight in our bedroom loft
When the sound of their boots were outside and the car engine started up, we exhaled. I looked through the windows past the apricot tree blossoms and saw Whit and Jazzy drive off down the dirt road.
