A Fantasy For Her


Where do I begin? I don’t want to assume too much, but you did say that you wouldn’t mind if I wrote a fantasy as long as I let you read it. If it seems corny or something, try not to laugh. You are really the first person, outside my best friend, to read something I have written in front of me. And I’ve known him for over a decade. I have some stuff on the net, but a live audience is different. Just think of these pages as being a part of me. That may sound strange, but I have been hurt when people use what I write. But I trust you more than most people. And I barely know you. It’s really weird for me.

Enough of this morose stuff, on with the smut! And remember, this is just a fantasy.

* * * * *

We have both known that we are going to be together pretty much since this started, but I am kind of slow. And I like the anticipation. We kiss and touch a lot, everywhere we go. We must have missed half the movies we have seen, just being so lost in kissing. Barton Springs was interesting. It was the first time I hade seen you in a bathing suit. Sure I had seen more, but it’s different in public. So I just had to suffer. Even then I wasn’t ready. You made it quite plain that the only stopping me was… me. But still I resisted.

The only time you have tried to get me to boot scoot was, to tell the truth, more fun than I would like to admit. Maybe I’ll let you convince me again. If you’ll bowl again.

Now that was fun. I don’t guess that it helped your ego any when you slipped and fell. Not even when I told you that I did the exact same thing when I first went. It was then that I decided to make a move. I have sensed that you are waiting on me. Quickly reviewing our schedules in my head I realize that you and I both have the next day off. Plenty of time. I have had everything I need for this for a week, just waiting for the right time to suggest that we go to my place. Even my roommates are out.

The butterflies in my stomach must have multiplied like rabbits. I managed to push them aside long enough to ask you in at almost the last second. Your quick smile seemed to vaporize them and I find myself smiling back.

I hope I am as good as I think I am. Or at least as good as you think I am.

And suddenly, like before, all nervousness is forgotten. I am so calm that I feel like I am outside myself watching someone else. No fumbling with the keys, no tripping on the doorstep as I always to in my dreams. Just smooth.

I open the door and follow you inside. It’s pretty modest, probably just the way someone might imagine a house rented by a couple of guys. But that is not what interest you. Your eyes are already searching for my room. I take you hand- “Come on, it’s this way.”

In my room I barely have enough time to lock the door before you are kissing me. You taste so good. You always do. But somehow we manage to slow down.

“I’m off tomorrow. And you are as well, aren’t you?”

You grin. “Yes.”

“Would you like to stay here tonight?”

“Maybe, with the proper motivation.”


My finger on your lips indicates the time for talk is over. From your lips my fingers trace down your chin to your neck and my tongue follows them to the strap of your dress. I slide them one at a time down your arm while I kiss your neck and ear. I whisper to you- “I hope that I am as good as we think I am.”

You reply- “You’ve been doing fine so far.”

As the straps go past your arms I bend down to pull the dress down to your ankles, as always, slowly. Pausing to investigate every piece of you that catches my attention with both my fingers and mouth. Little nibbles and butterfly kisses over your whole back, the backside of your knees. And your lovely, sweet, soft, warm, smooth ass. I enjoy your soft murmurs as my reward.

I stand behind you again and whisper in your ear- “Close your eyes.”

You comply as I begin to circle you, taking my time, touching you wherever your beautiful body catches my eye. Each rib, the inside of your elbow, your collarbone, my fingers linger on all this and more, but manage to avoid any of the major erogenous zones. Just the places I told you I like to touch- where bone and blood vessels are near to skin. Those places where nerves are packed tightly together.

I kiss the hallow of your hip bones and just above, one of my most ticklish spots I have told you. Your belly button attracts my tongue, giving you another reason to giggle.

I circle this way a few times, each time I move closer to your breasts and center, but still avoid them. Your self control is surprising. You stand still as I tease you this way, not begging once. You know that I am not teasing… ultimately I will fulfill the promise my touches make. But you do purr for me, murmur sweet praise and suggestions. You can feel my smile on your skin at each one.

Behind you again my hands venture under the constraints of your front-clasping bra to find your hardened nubs. So plump and sensitive. My fingers roll them about, twisting and tugging them. Then rubbing isveçbahis again with my palms. Just the right size I think. My hope is to get you so lost in my touch that you don’t realize exactly when I remove your bra. Your eyes are closed and you are leaning into me, so vulnerable and sexy. Your arms are around my neck, keeping my mouth attached to the pulse point. I want to suck here, to draw blood to the surface from pressure-broken capillaries; to mark you as mine. But I am mindful of leaving marks.

You have a job that depends on appearances. So instead my wet tongue traces the most intricate designs on the sensitive skin there, seeking the delicate salty taste of yummy, sweet-smelling girl.

I am successful, your bra drops to the floor without the slightest sign that you notice. My hands give the suggestion of pressure on your shoulders to turn you around and you comply, languidly, eyes still closed. I pull you close to me and kiss you deeply, taking more of your weight to me until I am supporting you almost entirely. I carefully maneuver us to the bed.

No fine silk sheets adorn my low bed, but it is dressed with soft cotton ones, a warm comforter, and plenty of pillows. And now I think it is the finest bed in the world, with your fantastic body splayed across it. I lay on your left side, allowing my right to caress you again, but only briefly. I speak to you again- “I need a few things. Just lie here and think pleasant thoughts.”

Before I get up I give each of your nipples a kiss, a promise of the attention I plan on paying them. Then it is off to retrieve the objects I have painstakingly gathered.

Do you know how hard it is to find just the right massage oil? It must be edible, not too thick or sugary, non-staining, compatible with latex condoms, easily heated, but not oily. I also have a wand massager handy, as well as some other surprises.

When I return I find you exactly as I left you, a dreamy smile on your face. I just can’t resist another kiss, trying to keep the objects in my arms from falling. Somehow I succeed.

I can sense that you want to know what I am doing and want to ask, but I have asked you not to talk. So I tell you about the oil, and the candles. Lighting them before I turn off the lights, I look at you again. The candlelight softens our skin, hides the blemishes present in everyone, giving your body a glow. Your eyes open as you smell the scented candles lighting, vanilla. I hope you like it.

I have a silk scarf wrapped around one hand when I return to your side and your eyes regard me with curiosity. I touch again, dragging the scarf over your hot skin, allowing some passion to control my actions. My hands are more insistent now, more demanding, but still gentle. I want to hear you moan as I drag the silk over your body. I capture your cries with my own mouth, my tongue searching for a partner. I take your right hand, kiss each finger in turn before placing it on my own. Your fingers entwine with mine and you bring them to your mouth, returning the favor. I laugh slightly, then return to caressing you. I ask simply-“Show me where to touch you.”

You catch on quickly, directing my hand to your covered treasure. I resist at the edge of your panties. “Impatient much?”

“I’ve been patient. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you still have all your clothes on.”


“Yes. Now stop teasing me.”

“I’m not sure that…”

You grab my hand suddenly, bringing it directly to the crotch of your panties. Your wet panties. “Yes. Touch me.”

“Help me take them off.”

Cooperation is a wonderful thing. My right hand and your left coordinate almost of their own accord, efficiently removing your t-back panties. Leaving you bare to my touch. Part of me wants to just TAKE you. Hard. I know you are ready. I can feel the evidence of that. Just plunge my fingers one at a time into your wet center, reach for you spot and just GO. But I don’t. I part your thighs one at a time, just guiding them open before running my fingers from your knees all the way up to the crease of your thigh. Then I repeat this on the other side. Only then do I brush your wet sex, grazing over it with my finger tips, then the back of my fingers. Finally they take a trip inside you. You gasp as I couldn’t resist starting with two fingers, giving you more width than you expected, but not any more than you can handle easily at this stage. I smirk- “I thought I might be getting predictable.”

“HH-Heaven forbid.”

I have to taste you. My fingers leave a shiny trail up your belly and chest, to each nipple, and finally to my mouth, allowing me to taste you. I have so missed the strong taste of a woman. And now I am again blessed with one who wants me. I am amazed by my luck.

My fingers do not dally this time, returning quickly to the warmth they have found. My left hand is behind your neck, entwined in your hair, pulling it back with more force than I have used before. I remember what you have told me. Your neck is exposed to my lips. I can feel your deep isveçbahis giriş moans here, like a large cat you growl and purr almost noiselessly. I want more. My thumb quickly seeks out your button as three fingers now plunge deep inside you, not just in and out, but all around, over and under each other, as I try to find what will give you the most pleasure.

You are closing your eyes, trying to just feel, preserving this moment for yourself. Your breath is ragged in your chest and your small, sensitive breast heave. They call for my mouth and I answer briefly, harder this time, feathery licks followed by quick, sharp bites. I want to see you cum, just for me.

You are nearly out of control now as a slight sheen of sweat covers your face, your body moves like a serpent and your sighs are growing louder and faster. Music to my ears, though if my roommates were home I might be concerned. Then again, I probably wouldn’t be. Let them suffer. My heart is racing as well, and unconsciously I am pressing against you, but not enough to be of any consequence. This is a vicarious experience for me. Making you feel this way is so good for me it’s almost frightening.

I am so entranced I almost don’t hear you saying my name, between breaths, not yelling it out, but calling my attention.


“Ahh, mmm kiss me. Kiss me as I cum, please.”

My mouth claims yours as you cum, your breath and cries empty into me, becoming part of me. No Hollywood film kiss here, just the sloppy wet joining of real life. Your nails mark my neck and, were it not for my shirt, I am sure you would be leaving welts on my back. But I love seeing you out of control. I am glad that you can share it with me.

I am tempted to keep going, to try to make you cum again. Just turn my fingers up to the upper wall of your pussy and press into your spot again. I think I could, but I don’t. I want you to come down and tell me if I am as good as we thought I was.

Your hand moves to mine a few moments later as your breathing slows, still unable to from coherent words. My left hand has returned to caressing your face and neck, brushing your beautiful hair from your sweaty forehead. Another thing that doesn’t happen in all those late-night cable movies that I wa- er… have heard come on Cinemax. But beautiful to me for just that reason. You are real.

My fingers are still inside you, but still. Your hand rest there also, as though to restrain me from continuing, but content to allow me to stay there. I am just watching you as you come down, occasionally brushing my lips to yours, whispering how much I enjoyed bringing you to so much joy.

You languidly open your eyes, a soft smile on your lips as you move my hand from its new home and bring it to your lips. Kissing each tip you can taste yourself. Your hand caresses my cheek, your lips my neck and ears.

“Mmmm, ” you purr, “So good. I knew that you would be.”

“I’m glad that someone did.”

Your response is to abruptly reverse our positions as your eyes flash. “Let me show you how you make me feel.”

I attempt to raise myself up. I still have things I wanted to do, but you stop me with a simple word. “Please.”

So I lay down, content to allow you to do as you wish. Now I am nervous. It’s one thing to please someone, to know what is going to happen. It is another to trust someone else, to allow them to have their way. I know that I am not model material, far from it. I am just, at best, average. I rely on what I hope is charm and intelligence to gain a woman’s confidence. I don’t go after women just to sleep with them. Why would I? How can you trust someone you just met? I have some small concern even now. But you sense my tension and with just a look, it vanishes. I know that I can trust you.

My shoes and socks I removed already. They can get awkward on a bed. And though I don’t normally, I have worn a button-up shirt and some khaki’s. When I reach for your hands as they unbutton my shirt you grab them and gently place them above my head.

“No touching. I am in control now. I want to please you.”

The words give me a tingling shudder from the back of my neck all the way down. No touching the one pleasuring you. My own rules and though you haven’t even really started I can now see just how hard it is to comply. But those words send a fire into me and I let all the tension and expectation go in a breath. My gaze returns to you as your eyes smile. You start again with my buttons. Your fingers are slow and steady, top to bottom. your mouth is on my neck now. It is my turn to moan. Your teeth venture out boldly, trapping delicate skin between them, wordlessly asking permission. My response it to press against you harder. It is hard to talk, but I manage to mumble- “Go ahead.” It hurts and feels so good. Scary in intensity. My breath is speeding up and I am still mostly clothed. Your hands linger on my belly, my sides, ticklish here, I am holding my breath again. Your fingers sneak under my shirt and press just hard enough NOT to tickle, just caress. isveçbahis yeni giriş

You lean more to my right side as your lips join mine again. Your nimble fingers undo my belt slowly but leave my pants button, where you can feel me hard just below. I haven’t been this turned on in a long time. I lose myself in your kiss. Over, under, around, your tongue is everywhere as your breath promises -“I am going to make you feel so good, lover.”

That word. It tastes like cinnamon in my head. I have lost track of my own hands, as you have. They are occupied with the sweeping curves of your back. Somewhere in the midst of all this my pants have become unbuttoned and your fingers are exploring there. For the first time your fingers touch my naked cock and it leaps toward that touch. This reminds you who is in charge and, recognizing this I return my hands to their place. You are pleased and continue to caress me for a bit before removing my shirt.

Not as easy as it seems, laying down. Put you manage very well, taking the opportunity to tease my arms by running your nails down them as your hands move inside the sleeves of my shirt. It requires some cooperation on my part, namely moving my arms out as you move your in, but we manage. And we somehow manage to keep our lips together while doing it. Knowing of my ticklishness, you move quickly to untuck my t-shirt and peel it over my head.

Here some revenge is had as you leave it over my head and your mouth makes a trip to my nipples. “Ohh, I like that.”

“I remember. Some guys are afraid to admit it.”

Your teeth try here as well and my fingers claw the sheets in their efforts to remain still. You pause and ask- “Say when.”


I don’t know if it hurts or feels good, but I do know that it FEELS. Intensely. Finally I manage to gasp “When.” as I can feel them turn white with lack of blood. And then the contrast of your hot, soft, wily tongue and I just want to scream. Mumbling incoherently seems to be enough.

And then your mouth is moving down.

Warm lips brush over my belly. I can feel your smile and I can’t help but return it. We both know where this is going, but only you know how long it’s going to take to get there. My hands clench the sheets harder as I clamp my mouth shut to silence the moans and begging welling up involuntarily inside me. Only a slight moan makes it out. Your hands are busy as well, roving my chest, pinching my nipples, brushing my lips, where I wait to capture them in my teeth. Your laugh is infectious.

I lose track for a bit here, your warm, raspy tongue distracts me from noticing that you have taken my pants and boxers off. I am as naked as you are. I am nervous only as long as it takes you to return to teasing me. You are everywhere but where I want you to be most, but I am still enjoying it. It is SO hard not to beg. I will not give in. Will not.

It takes you two minutes to break me. Your licking is more than enough. You seem to find the most sensitive parts with the precision of a guided missile. From the head to the root and back, all around, but your lips never enclose me. There is no romantic way to say blowjob. It’s so naughty, nasty. And I love it. Unsatisfied with the results so far, you close in on a most sensitive spot, just under the head of my cock and flick your tongue. Once, twice, once more. I know what is going to happen. It’s only a question of when I will give in. Then you pull out the stops.

As you speed up your licks your right hand is moving to my balls. I might worry a bit if you didn’t keep your nails clipped to play the guitar. Your left is stroking the length of my shaft and when I look down your eyes lock to mine and the intensity there is just too much for me. I have to give in.

“Please. Please.”

I expect you to relent but you surprise me. “Please do what?” For emphasis you slow your spit slick hands’ stroke on me to a crawl and give it one long lick.

“Ahh. Umm, please suck my cock. Please.” You pretend to ponder this as you return to a faster pace. I am only able to moan, arching my back to seek more pressure, maddeningly denied. Mustering some small amount of dignity I manage to look you in the eyes and summon some adverbs to help convince you.

“Please take me into your beautiful mouth. I want to see you with a mouthful of my cock.” And then you do. So slowly that I could die… You draw it out, putting on a show for an audience of one. Not that it is enormous, but you make it seem to drag on forever. The tip is only just above your fist by an inch or so. But with my eyes closed, only feeling your sweet lips, hot breath and hands it feels like a mile. I don’t know how but we seem to have communicated enough for you to know that your hands are important.

Seeing my eyes closed, you pinch my nipple harshly and I snap back up to see your impish glare. You want my full attention.

I break one of my rules, halfway at least. I know you like a strong hand in your hair, so I entangle my right in your curly locks. Your turn to moan and the vibration on my shaft feels wonderful, but your eyes ask what I am doing even so. You relax as I simply play at pulling it. You are still in control. This is your show. I am not going to push your head down to insist that you swallow.

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