Free Erotic Stories

The Dream

Chapter 1. The Dream

She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want him to have a reason to leave. She was enjoying every second of this encounter. Humming, thinking of that one moment over and over. When he lifted her up by the hips almost effortlessly, making her feel light as a feather. Focusing on every aspect of her body as if it were perfect. Nothing for her to feel uncomfortable or embarrassed about, and no inclination to even go there in her mind.

She felt beautiful. And she wanted to hang on to this moment, knowing this time could end at any second. Not moving a muscle so there would be no reason to end it sooner than necessary. He wasn’t as hard as before, but not soft enough for her to worry about accidentally pushing him out. She wanted him to stay inside her. She stayed still. He wasn’t moving either. She could hear his breathing executed perfectly, as if he was mediating over her and how wonderful this all felt.

Kat’s husband was making sure there was no reason for Susan to move. He initially wanted to shift his elbows in to lift some weight off of her, then remembered Kat told him to never do that. Instead, he had let his weight down upon her slowly and gently, making sure she had no trouble breathing. With no complaint, he let himself rest on her, feeling every inch of her soft white skin against his chest and stomach, with his hip bones resting against her inner thighs. He was still inside her, and hoped she would let him stay there for now. He kept expecting one of her hands to tap him two or three times to prompt him to get off of her, but she never did. Her hands were resting on his hips. Her breathing was measured evenly like his, but she also had a quiet humming coming from her, as if she, too, was meditating over the moment.

Susan was overly self-conscious all her life, having been brow-beaten by her older siblings from the day she was born. Her sisters and brother fought amongst each other, and would then focus their anger on Susan, the youngest of five.

The trauma of constant disparagement carried into her adulthood. She would always think that people were looking at her as if she had done something wrong or was deficient in some way. Her parents either didn’t notice or saw it as just another argument amongst their children. But to Susan, her parents’ silence signaled their approval and agreement of her siblings’ belittling of her. So she grew up being told every day how she could never do anything right.

When her college sweetheart started in with the same type of constant criticism, she saw this as normal, and married him. Instead of escaping a brutal childhood, she managed to find a way to extend it through an abusive marriage. This was the way things were supposed to be.

She spent thirteen years listening to her husband belittle her. Now, fifteen years after their divorce, and ten years having no contact with any of her family, she still thought she was unworthy of any praise or compliment. John, her new husband, fought constantly to convince her of her worth. Compared to her brother and sisters, she was smarter, more educated, had a better job, made more money, and was generally happier and more successful than any of them.

They were all out of her life now. All the anger, the hate, the criticism. But she still felt there must be something wrong with her and would grab onto any flaw she had and not let go. It was normal. There must always be something wrong with her. Always.

Even after so many years without the criticism of all the haters in her life, and after living a happier, healthier life without them in it, she walked around desperately clinging to any imagined defect she could find in herself.

She and John met Kat and her husband earlier in the day. They were all sitting on the pool steps at a nude resort. Kat’s husband was a body builder with muscles everywhere. They were all drinking, engaged in relaxed conversation, and started comparing sunburns. Susan couldn’t help herself and reached out to feel the husband’s large chest, saying that his sunburn didn’t look that bad. She pulled her hand away quickly, hoping no one noticed her true motivation: this guy was built and she wanted to feel him.

Earlier, she noticed his head tilt towards her several times, his dark sunglasses hiding the direction of his eyes. He was stealing glimpses of her naked body, hoping she couldn’t see where they were focused. She didn’t need to see his eyes to know what he was looking at. John loved her 38 double D’s, and he told her that every other man in the pool would be loving them too. She was seeing that he was right.

Now she found herself in bed with Kat’s husband. His massive, perfectly sculpted, muscular body looming over her. She looked at every defined edge of every muscle from his abs to his chest to his biceps to his bulging shoulders. Now it was her turn to stare at him, at every inch of him, as he was over the top of her. And she kept staring, wanting, and she was sure he could see the intense look in her eyes.

Kat’s husband was running his big hands up and down her body, across her breasts, up and down from her shoulders to her hips. She noticed him staring into her eyes, then her body, then her eyes again. He was inside her. She didn’t remember him entering her, she just knew he was there.

Then she noticed a change in his facial expression, and he started pumping away at her. In and out, over and over. He was pumping faster, then all of a sudden slower. Then he did something that completely surprised her. He grabbed her waist and sat back on his ankles, pulling her body back with him. Then with a firm grasp of her hips, he completely lifted her off the bed. He breathed out heavily and lunged upwards into her, standing straight up on his knees. Her back arched, her shoulders and head completely off the mattress. She reached back over her head and couldn’t feel the bed anywhere; she was floating. She looked up-- her breasts sticking straight up and obstructing her view of him except for his face. His cowboy hat had fallen off, and she could see over her nipples that he was staring directly into her eyes.

His head leaned back, eyes partially closed, but still looking at her, and he let out a large grunt and lunged upward again, moaning loudly while she felt him pulsing inside her. Then a third lunge, this time not as strong, but the grunt and moan were still there. So was the pulsing. He was lowering her back towards the bed, then a fourth lunge. And a fifth. He was still breathing heavily, his chest moving in and out with his breathing and making him look even larger than he had looked earlier. He breathed two or three more deep breaths as he gently set her down. Then he slowly lowered himself down on top of her.

His head was above her right shoulder, face down in the comforter. She could still feel every inch of his skin, starting with his chest against hers, belly to belly, all the way down to his hips against her inner thighs. Was he still inside her? She was focused on everything else and wasn’t sure. She wanted to check but was afraid if she flexed she might push him out. She wanted him to stay in for now. She very lightly contracted her pussy muscles; yes, he was still there. Not as hard as before, but not soft either. She lay still.

The previous moment kept coming back to her. The moment when he lunged and picked her up by the hips. It seemed effortless for him, and she felt weightless during that moment. The feeling that she always had with her-- that self-conscious feeling--, was completely absent then.

With no one criticizing her, she had to make things up about herself. A microscopic wrinkle or blemish on her face. A few extra pounds that everyone must be looking at. But this man had just shown her that none of it was true.

If she ever had any questions about her weight, they were all dismissed by this strong man who lifted her up like she was light as a feather. She felt flawless. Yes, that was it. Absolutely Flawless. Something she had never legitimately felt her entire life.

She could hear Kat’s husband breathing softly over her right shoulder. What was he doing? Was he meditating over the experience? Could he be meditating over HER? She imagined he was.

She didn’t want to disturb him, she wanted him to stay right where he was. She controlled her own breathing, and after a few minutes realized she was humming. She needed to find a way to keep that moment in her memory forever. First by making these last few minutes with this man-- a man she may not ever see again, whose name she couldn’t even remember—make these last few minutes last without somehow ending them unnecessarily early. Without ruining them by saying something stupid or moving in a way that made him think he had to get up. She stayed perfectly still.

She would occasionally think about the present, making sure there was no reason for him to leave. But then she would go back to that perfect moment, re-living it over and over again.

That perfect moment when there was nothing wrong with her. Nothing at all.