She is his dream. He walks past her house every day and every day he thinks of stopping. A block before her house he slows, the thickening fantasy of her nearness making his legs heavy. He strolls past her window, trying not to be too conspicuous in his attempt to see through the narrow gap between the shade and the windowsill. Tonight the light is dim and flickering - candlelight, he thinks. His breath grows labored and a vision of her fills his head. As he passes, he glimpses the pale skin of her leg bent against the footstool. She is sitting in an armchair, he knows. He hears the faint music playing from her stereo. He pauses at the corner of her house and looks around. No one in sight. He gives in to his urgent need. He slips around the corner of the house to the window on the side. Another view of her living room unfolds before him as he bends to peek.
She lies back in the chair, her eyes closed, her hair spread around her shoulders. The candlelight reflects from her creamy skin. His eyes fill with the sight of her - and a rushing sound his ears with the view. His body feels unbearably hot and he can feel his skin swell with blood. His cock fills so quickly that it becomes painful in his crouched position. She sits with knees spread wide, her hand under a short full skirt. Her breasts swell out from a tight white top that scoops so low on her bosom that her nipples nearly emerge with her breath. Her right hand moves in a circular motion under the skirt while her left slides slyly up to the low neckline and teases out the right nipple. He bites down hard on his cheek as the dark aureole appears, contrasting sharply with the white of the fabric. He stands abruptly, tears springing to his eyes.
Before he can think, his legs carry him around the front of the house to the door. He breathes heavily as if having run there. He watches his hand reach out to knock hard on the wood. He hears her yelp in surprise. In a moment her face appears at the window in the door. She registers his face, he sees, and a series of emotions cross her mobile features. Then she gives a strained smile and unlocks the door. She stands in the doorway, silhouetted by the light from deeper in the house. She opens her mouth to speak, but before she can he steps in through the door, pushing her back with his entrance. He reaches out to grasp her roughly around the waist and pulls her into him, closing the door with his foot behind him.
He stifles her protests with his mouth. He holds her hard against him, crushing those breasts against his chest. His left arm winds around her back and his right hand cups her left breast, kneading desperately. She pushes against his chest with her hands, but his strength is prodigious. He is raging, throbbing, bursting. His tongue feels hard and huge in her mouth. His mouth is dry, but hers is full of deliciously sweet saliva. He drinks deeply of her juice, intoxicated in a way that no liquor ever provided. Her nipple under his fingers is hard and he can feel her heart beating through the cushion of her flesh. Suddenly she droops in his arms, her knees bending and arms falling loosely away from him. He breaks the contact with her mouth and draws his head back. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is slack - a sheen of the kiss surrounding her lips.
He picks her up, surprised at his own strength. He carries her to the long dark sofa and places her gently down. His rage has subsided, but his blood has not. He stands over her unconscious body and for the first time allows himself to take in her beauty. Her breath moves those breasts and her pulse shows strong in her pale throat. As in a dream, he removes his clothes and stands before her naked. He notes his hard purplish cock in his peripheral vision and thinks how good it looks against the white of the skin of her thigh. He slides his left leg over her hips, nudging the short skirt high on her thighs. He touches the tips of her nipples through the fabric of the white top and slowly draws down the zipper which holds the shirt together in the front. The shirt holds tight to the flesh of her breasts and they spill out slowly as the pressure is released. He is afraid for a moment that he might cum and stops for a moment to close his eyes against the intensity -- the realization of so many dreams spun on lonely nights. In the moment of his hesitation he feels her stir beneath him. He opens his eyes to look down into hers. The gaze which meets his is surprised, but not scared. She draws in a deep breath, pushing the breasts further from the top and into his hands.
She does not speak and does not reach to touch him. She moves her hips slightly to test his weight. With another breath she closes her eyes again. He does not move for a moment, then the feel of her skin against his fingers still holding the zipper draws his consciousness back into his body. The fierce fullness flows back into him and he completes the opening of her shirt roughly. The edges pull back, leaving her breasts naked and gleaming in the flickering light. He breathes in with a gasp and fills his hands with the flesh of her. He gathers the round tits together, nipples hard at attention. He stares for a long moment, capturing the view as on a camera. He bends then, his painful cock sliding down the loose fabric of her skirt and reaches out with his tongue to the cleft between her breasts, made deep with his urgent hands. He licks long against the smooth whiteness, smearing his now copious saliva over the curves. He takes one nipple between his lips and sucks hard. Her sharp intake of breath forces the nipple deeper into his mouth. He hears a deep growl escape from his throat.
