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Fantasy |
by Samantha"Tell me your darkest fantasy," you asked. Blushing, I looked down and shook my head. "Why not?" you pressed. We were sitting across from each other in a restaurant. On the table were flickering candles and our mostly untouched dinners. We had been talking for what seemed like hours, getting to know each other, talking about everything. But when you suddenly blurted out that question I felt wildly embarrassed. Reaching across the table to place your hand over mine you asked me again, "Why not?" I looked directly into your eyes. They were so compelling that I nearly told you at that moment. "It’s too embarrassing," I finally admitted. "But a minute ago you said that you felt you could tell me anything," you objected. "Not that. I can’t tell you that," I whispered, feeling my face flush. I dropped my gaze to look at your hand covering mine. I watched as you slowly rubbed your thumb over the back of my hand, feeling my heart begin to race at the gentle contact. The waiter chose that moment to approach our table, asking if he could get us anything else, breaking the intimacy of the moment. I felt a moment’s relief that I hadn’t answered your question as I became aware of the other people sitting at tables around us. Soon after, we left the restaurant. Walking hand in hand along the town’s main street, we agreed that it was too early to for us to end the evening. Passing a tavern with a small dance floor, we decided to stop for a drink. Several hours later we were still drinking and dancing, both enjoying ourselves immensely and well on our way to being quite drunk. When I stumbled against you in a fit of giggles while trying to execute a fancy dance turn, you said, "Enough for you, young lady. I’m taking you home!" You tried so hard to look stern that I collapsed against your chest, giggling even harder. Soon, you were laughing as hard as I was. We walked unsteadily out of the tavern and back towards my house. I was feeling wonderful. My entire body was tingling from the alcohol I had consumed. I felt young, and free and pretty and fun. You had your arm draped loosely around my shoulders and I kept purposely bumping against your body. When we got to my front door, I turned to you suddenly and asked, "Hey, am I drunk?" as if it had only then occurred to me that I might be. "Yes," you answered. "Are you?" "Definitely." "Do you want to take advantage of me?" Where had I gotten the courage to ask you that? "Definitely," you answered, your eyes smoldering. Without even waiting to get inside, you kissed me on the doorstep. The sudden flash of desire that rushed through me when your lips touched mine caught me so by surprise that I was unable to stop my moan of pleasure. You wrapped your arm around my waist, pulling me tight against you as you angled your head to deepen the kiss. Your tongue plundered my mouth roughly, your inhibitions as stripped away by the drinks as mine. Your mouth was warm and tasted like beer. Pressed up against you, I could feel you trembling. Your other hand slid down my back to cup my ass, pressing my hips against yours. You were already hard. When we finally pulled apart, your breathing was harsh and ragged. I fumbled with the keys, dropping them twice before managing to unlock the door. I had expected you to resume kissing me when we got inside, and was disappointed when you didn’t. Instead, you paced around my living room, pausing to examine the small framed pictures lining my bookshelves. I dropped my purse on the small table by the door and stepped out of my shoes. "Do you want anything?" I asked, suddenly realizing that I should probably offer you a drink or a cup of coffee. "Yes." "What?" I prompted when you didn’t tell me what. "I want you to tell me that fantasy now," you replied, your voice deep and husky. "Why?" I asked, "why is this so important to you?" "Because I want to make it come true," you replied. I heard myself gasp at your answer - it was that unexpected - as I felt myself go hot all over. You sat on the couch, beckoning me to sit beside you. You kissed me lightly then. "Tell me." Your lips nibbled at mine as tremors of desire raced through me. "C’mon, tell me." You whispered hypnotically against my lips. My heartbeat began to accelerate. "I really wanna know, tell me." Another nibble. "Please?" Your tongue licked my lower lip. I was whimpering now. "Tell me." Your words were setting me on fire. "Tell me," you repeated again. You were whispering so softly that it was almost as if the words were in my mind, coming from within me. "Tell me." It was too much. I was too excited and way too drunk to be shy any more. I decided that rather than telling you, I would show you. I took your hand in mine and moved it over your erection, holding it there for a minute. "Is that what you want? You want me to touch myself for you?" you whispered into my mouth. "Ummmmmm-hmmmmmm," I whispered back. "Will you do the same for me?" "Yes." What am I getting myself into, I wondered dimly in the back of my mind. You groaned at my answer and pushed me away from you, settling more deeply into the couch, spreading your legs apart. My mouth went dry as I watched your hand rub over your fly. You sucked in your breath and then moaned as you cupped yourself harder. You seemed as turned on to be touching yourself in front of me as I was to be watching you. I felt a hot rush of wetness between my legs when your hands moved to the button on your trousers. Oh my god, I thought. He’s really going to do this! I was incredibly aroused. I knew I was already wet, already slick, already soft and swollen. My breath came in small mewling gasps as I watched you slowly slide down the zipper of your pants. You slid one hand inside your trousers, running it over your hard cock, groaning at the pleasure. "You too," you sighed, "you promised." Your voice sounded oddly choked. Can I really do this, I wondered. Embarrassment and intense desire were warring for control of my body. I wanted to touch myself so badly at that moment. But not only had I never done that in front of someone, I had never even admitted that I did it when alone. "Pull up your skirt," you said, telling me how to start. Pleating the fabric of my skirt between my fingers, I slowly raised it to my hips. You groaned at your first glimpse of my lace panties. "Take them off," you said, motioning with your head towards my panties. I slowly slid them from my body, watching you watch me. You groaned again, then whispered, "My god, you’re beautiful." You arched up in the couch, pulling down your pants. You quickly took off your shoes, then your pants. Finally, you took off your underwear. When you settled back into the couch and wrapped your hand around your hard cock, I was more excited than I had ever been in my life. I watched in total amazement as you began to slowly stroke yourself, your hand moving up and down the rigid shaft. This was happening. This was actually happening. I scarcely dared to believe that my fantasy was quickly becoming a reality. I was helpless to stop watching you. "Touch your cunt for me, baby," you moaned. I felt another flood of wetness at your words. Dazed by passion and emboldened by alcohol, I gently slid my fingers between my slick lips. I was so incredibly wet, so unbelievably excited. I cried out at that first touch, and my hips jerked forward to deepen the caress. You moaned loudly and began to move your hand faster. "Oh god," you groaned. My mind seemed to float away from my body as I watched, fascinated, as you fucked your hand. I began to move my fingers faster against my clit, rubbing it and pressing harder. I was trembling, feeling the passion building inside me. "Take off your dress," you said between clenched teeth. "I want to see your body." I quickly obeyed you, removing both my dress and bra to stand naked before you. "Come closer." I did. "I want to come on your body," you whispered. I shivered and moaned at your words. "I want to so badly. Can I come on you baby?" Your hand slowed in its movements as you waited for my response. "Yes," I whispered, dropping to my knees in front of you. Your moan sounded like a strangled sob as you sat up straighter and moved to the edge of the couch, still holding your dick. When you lightly rubbed the head against my nipple, we both cried out at the unexpected pleasure of it. I moved my hand back to my cunt and began to caress myself again. "Oh god, so good . . . so good," you groaned, pressing the head of your cock into the giving warmth of my breast as you began to rapidly stroke. "I want to come on you so bad . . . it feels so good . . . I’m so close now, baby." I was poised on the edge of my own climax, holding back, waiting for you. I moved my fingers against myself slowly, keeping myself just shy of orgasm. As you felt the pressure building, your motions became jerky, less coordinated. You were thrusting your hips, meeting the stroking of your hand, fucking your fist. Then, in a sudden rush, you reached your peak. I watched as the first spurt of your come shot out of you, landing on my breast. It felt incredibly hot and wet against my skin. My own orgasm tore through me a moment later as I arched and thrust my hips against my fingers. Pulse after pulse of your thick, white come continued to fall on my fevered skin as you cried out and shuddered at the unbelievably intense pleasure raking your body. Finally, we both stilled. In the silence that followed, we both seemed to suddenly notice the mess you had made on my body and burst into unexpected laughter. "I guess I need a shower, huh?" I asked you. Still laughing, you nodded your head. "Wanna wash my back?" "Oh, yeah." We rose, and headed to the bathroom together.
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