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Living the Dream

It was harmless enough. He sent his ex-girlfriend a cute cheer-me-up email before her Christmas vacation. Not a vacation really. Actually a full week with her soon-to-be Ex-Husband?s extended family. She?d have to pretend everything was as normal as it?s ever been. Normal enough that no one would ask, ?are Lynn and Curtis ok??

And she wasn?t a typical ex-girlfriend. They had a torrid two-year affair, and had taken a pause almost a year ago, but had remained friends. With an occasional dip back into passion?s ocean hear and there.

So Adam was a bit surprised, when, amidst the string of texts to make her smile, give her a lift and support, that his ex-girlfriend, now with a new boyfriend, a dominant boyfriend, wrote, ?Dreamed of you last night. We were moving into a house together! But it was more like house-sitting because it was already furnished and already had all this cool art everywhere. When we got to the master bedroom you pushed me up against the door and started fondling me and whispering in my ear what you were going to do to me. Hot.?

Adam?s first reaction to Lynn?s text was, ?wow, hot.? Yes, like a teenage boy. But it sat in the back of his mind simmering all day. Marinating. They both knew they had broken up nearly a year ago. They both knew she now had a boyfriend. But they also both knew what they had done together just a few weeks prior. How on a truly platonic drink night at ?Arlo?s? she returned from the bathroom to tell him, ?I?m not wearing any panties.? And not long after that he was wiping the bench where she had squirted after just two or thee minutes of fingering in the crowded bar.

But still, he wondered, ?I believe that, but I wonder why she told me?? Not 2 days earlier he had had a similar dream with her. Not sexual, yet they were clearly together as a couple in his dream. He dared not tell her that, he just said that he dreamed about them at karaoke. And what he mostly remembered from that dream was her hair. Up and regal.

Why did she tell me? Maybe it?s because she thought I?d run with it as I always do and write some great erotica, which obviously worked. Erotica anyway. Maybe she wants me to know that, ?we?re not going to be together again, but I want you to know I still think of you that way.? Or maybe she just slipped, as it was in context of something else she was saying, and maybe, just maybe, she told him without telling him, ?you?re the man I?m going to be with eventually.?

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PART I

Adam was far from Machiavellian, or manipulative; in his own mind he was just acting as the manipulated. Doing as he was told. Germinating a seed that had been planted ages ago.

So he planned it all in a way that would take her to where she wanted to be. How she imagined, on that day, it would feel like to walk into her new apartment with a man for the first time. Who she imagined that might be. And what she imagined he would do when they walked in. How she?d already opened up to him about her dream.

And he also knew it was just a dream. One that if she had not told him about would have surely been forgotten. Not a fantasy that she would carry with her hoping to fulfill. Just one of many dreams that might come and go.

Once he heard it, he had other ideas. He wanted this to become a fantasy. One she could not let go of. One that, with enough imagination and creativity, could become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

And so it was.

Because, it happened. Not long after her divorce had gone through, fortunately with less conflict than either her or Curtis anticipated, she had signed on to move into a furnished apartment. Of course, with her appreciation for art, this one was perfect. The owners had an eclectic array of modern art, contemporary classic furniture, and an original combination of colors that spoke to Lynn the moment she walked in.

And Adam hoped all along he?d be the first gentleman visitor. After all, he was the only man to fuck her on her fur rug. Twice. Once when they were in the midst of a torrid affair, and once just a few months ago when a combination of alcohol, family out of town, and an argument with her boyfriend were the perfect storm for Michael to enjoy that again. Except that second time it was far from sensual. And they both enjoyed it more.

As they walked up the stairs (it seemed her elevators were always out of order when he visited her), he marveled at her legs. And boots. How could she climb so effortlessly in those heels. And while he knew from years of fucking exactly what her ass looked like, he was somehow drawn to imagine it underneath that short tight skirt. Because despite its length, he could see nothing. Regardless, he was hard. And he knew that either she wanted him now. Or she wanted to want to have him now. She could always say no.

He thought about taking her right there in the stairs. Stopping halfway up, pinning her against the wall and just fingering her to orgasm. And to her inevitable squirt. But how classless that would be. No, he had to wait.

The instant. The absolute instant that she closed the door, he reached up and locked the deadbolt, and like a gentleman, forcefully wheeled her around up against the door. Leaned in and kissed her, knowing that this would put her in his spell. He reached around her neck and into the top of her bra to tweak and caress her nipples. That would make her instantly wet, he knew. And within a minute leaned in and whispered in her ear, ?Now I am going to lift up this skirt and put my cock inside you.?

Why those words. They sounded so cold. Like body parts. But when she imagined it the first time, she heard, ?and now I?m going to fuck you the way I want to fuck you, and there?s nothing you can do about it. You can?t stop me because you don?t want to. You?ve never been filled by a cock that fits you so perfectly, except for mine. And now, I?m going to remind you how that feels.? But in her dream it was simple ? ?now I am going to lift up this skirt and put my cock inside you.?

And in hearing that, that she was going to be taken. To feel that cock the way she loved to, she tilted her pelvis forward to really take it. Not because she wanted to. But because she knew that if she were to comply, that was her role. One anyway.

He reached underneath her skirt, pulled her panties down halfway, and entered her all at once. Immediately. Something she could not remember him ever doing. Because he wanted her to feel both euphoria and surprise. ?Oh my god, what?s happening to me?? Then he reached down and grabbed her panties with his right hand, to rip them off. Instead, the pull lifted her legs. He held her around underneath her arms, around her with his left hand, and in pulling her panties her legs lifted off the ground and tilted her ass so it was facing his stomach. As if she were lying on the bed on her back with her legs hitched over sideways for him to fuck her from behind sideways. Except she was against the wall. Her legs up in a near fetal position, her ass facing him just enough and him taking her.. Now he could pull the panties all the way off.

And he immediately pressed her again with her back against the wall, and pulled her legs around him. And fucked her hard. It was not lovemaking. It was not him giving her pleasure. And it wasn?t him getting pleasure for himself. Not sexual. Not orgasmic. He was fucking her. He wanted her to be fucked by him. Feel his body take hers.

She wrapped her arms around him, and started to feel the friction on her lower back, where he blouse had hiked up and her lower back was exposed. It fucking hurt. And she just accepted this as part of the journey. Accepting that pain. ?His shoulders, they feel different, she thought.? And they did. Months had passed, and he was in shape again.

He lifted her off the wall, and while still inside her walked to the bed, slowly layed down with her, never leaving her pussy empty. For his gift, in his mind, was that he would keep her filled. She instinctively took everything off. Her boots because she knew he loved her feet. Her blouse and bra because she wanted him to play with her nipples. Her jewelry was left on. Not on purpose, but because once that cock was filling her cunt she lost all ability to think past the moment.

He looked down on her, and saw that smile she has sometimes when she?s in complete bliss, and his aggression melted into serenity. Sexual serenity. And he slowed down now. Completely unlike before.

Now he just stroked her slowly, pressed up against her cervix. It was amazing. It felt so erotic, washing over him, and he could see in her face how it drained all time and place out of her consciousness. He mind was filled with cock. His cock.

And instead of thrusting, he massaged her with it. Massaged her cervix. He stayed there, just rotating his hips slowly, his arms on her shoulders pulling him onto him with all his might, and now started sucking on her nipples. He once made her cum just from playing with her nipples. Or she almost came. He didn?t remember. And it didn?t matter. She loved it just the same. They were like additional clits for her, with a direct line of communication with her pussy. Whether or not she was already aroused.

He replaced his mouth with his hands, pulled her down on him as hard as he could, and leaned into her ear and whispered, ?tell me how my cock feels.?

She squealed, in a away only she does. It?s inexplicable really, the moan, semi-scream and squeal. Adam found no sound sexier. So real, so sincere, so passionate, and so on fire. ?It?s so good; it?s so good. Oh my god, it?s so good.? And she said that again, and again, and then, they caught each other?s eyes and started laughing out loud. They both remembered how that was exactly what she said the first time they fucked.

He looked at her lovingly, kissed her to toss the laughter aside, and entered to the hilt again. Now she was pressed up against the headboard, and he started pounding. She was so wet and he was pounding. They could both hear the slap-slap-slap of his pelvis against her ass and hamstrings, and also the slurpy sound of a cock pounding a gushing pussy. Especially as he withdrew. As he pounded he felt the area underneath her tummy swell up, and he knew. He knew that now her brand new sheets would be initiated with a squirt that he inspired. He felt it pulse. Her indescribable orgasmic sounds began. It would not do them any justice to attempt to use words to describe. They can only be heard. And the pulsing and her face and her voice melted him into her in a fury of thrusts. She came first, and he knew to just hold deep, even as she tried with all her might to force his cock out. Or so it felt. It was a contest of wills, one he never understood. Never bothered to ask for reasons he didn?t now know. ?Should I pull out now? Keep it in while she?s cumming? Thrust? Hold deep?? No matter what he did, her orgasms were intense. Wet with squirt. He could feel the warmth wash over his cock and abdomen. He loved it.

As her orgasm subsided, he started slowly again, and not long after pounded her harder than before. Her head was slapping up against the headboard, and she pressed her hands up against it like she was lifting it over her head. He couldn?t tell whether she wanted to fuck or was just protecting herself. He couldn?t tell because he didn?t care. He pinned her legs back behind her ears, pressing on her hamstrings, and felt the orgasm begin. His were slow and long, and he milked it. Long and deep, long and deep. Slow. Rubbing his head against her cervix.

?Cum baby cum,? she said. And she grabbed his ass with her fingernails, one grazing his asshole, and a few thrusts later he bore down on her hard, without empathy, and sent his load deep inside.

He never stopped there. Ever. And started kissing her stomach, working his way down to her cum filled pussy, and licked it slowly.

?Baby come up hear. Kiss me,? she said.

And he did. And before long they were both asleep. Just as he had imagined.

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And that?s what Adam wrote. That?s what he wrote to send to her and turn her brief innocent dream into a fantasy she?d carry with her for months. One she?d build upon in her mind. One that maybe she?d masturbate to, build upon.

He wondered, ?should I send it?? So not long after he texted her, ?why did you want me to know about your dream?? And her response, thankfully honest, was, ?It was probably unfair of me to mention it. But the dream was so arousing. It was irresponsible of me.?

But to him, no, it wasn?t. So long as she told him that she was not sending a message, but rather sharing as good friends do. After all, they could still talk about past escapades knowing that they were just reminiscing about the good times.

Still, this meant that it just kind of slipped. She wasn?t sending any messages to him. Yet, he had already written the hot story.

So, he sat on it a few days, even posted the story online, leaving the question for others to answer. Strangers?.

?Should I send this to her??