Enchanted Dreams (26 page)

"Nicely," he reminded her.

"Please," she begged inwardly. But she could no longer remember what she wanted.

His fingers slipped out of her sopping body and she felt him shift between her legs. "Get ready for the ride of your life, Sara," she heard him say.

"Please," she thought.

He pressed into her opening. She gasped at the size of him.

"Raise your legs up nice and high, Sara," he instructed. She obeyed immediately. "Yes, like that. Bring them up." He grasped one ankle in each of his hands and then he gently but firmly pressed her legs toward her head. She felt the muscles in her thighs strain but she did not resist as he managed to bend her legs until her feet were on either side of her head. This position lifted her buttocks up high in the air. Up to this point he had only inserted a few inches inside her, but she could already feel the pressure of his thickness bearing down on her, opening her. Even with her extreme wetness, she felt that he was stretching her. "How does that feel, Sara?" he asked her.

"Yes," she thought. "Yes…yes…yes!" She had the urge to push her hips upward in an effort to get more of him inside her, but she couldn't move an inch in her present position. Her hands rested limply on the bed on either side of her. She was afraid to reach out and touch whatever it was that was doing this to her.

As he pushed farther and farther into her, she bit her lip hard to avoid screaming out from the pleasure. He was filling her so slowly and so completely. But still her body kept crying out for more. She wanted to be filled to the point of overflowing.

"Is that what you really want, Sara?" he asked, reading her thoughts.

"Yes," she said before she even considered what she was saying.

"You know the magic word, then," he reminded her doggedly. It seemed as if he were playing with her. There appeared to be no strain or suffering on his part at all. He held her down easily while working his way into her from above, almost as if he were floating. She realized that he could very well be hovering in midair between her quivering thighs.

"Please," she said again, pushing the reality of what was happening away. But it was not real, she reminded herself once again. It was a dream. Perhaps that's why her desire seemed to just keep building and building, never to be satisfied. Just like her dreams, perhaps this, too, would never reach fruition. Her desire was like something independent of her, something foreign, that held her body hostage while she looked on. Her hips remained high up in the air as she waited and yearned for release.

"Please…what?" he asked her, and suddenly she became infuriated with the waiting.

"Please fuck me all the way," she thought angrily. "Fuck me now, fuck me hard, fuck me deep…" Her train of thought was suddenly halted as he pushed himself into her and kept going, and it was more than she had ever dared imagine.

"Oh no," she thought. "Oh, good heavens, no!" Yet he kept filling her. Her feet were still pinned on either side of her head, leaving her hips trapped in midair. There was no escape. She was at her wit's end with numerous emotions ranging from pleasure to terror. "How much more is there?" she asked herself.

"There is exactly as much as you wished for, my greedy little girl," the voice told her. "I could've come to you in many shapes and sizes but you had to have to the mother lode."

Sara felt that perhaps she had bitten off more than she could chew. This thought caused her lover to laugh loudly inside her head.

"Nicely put," he said, withdrawing at last, but only long enough to prepare her for another thrust forward, once again going all the way to the hilt. "But we'll see how much of me you can swallow another time," he remarked. They were both quiet then as he began a steady pace of driving in and out of her with alarming vigor. With each forward thrust, she could feel his testicles batter her bottom, adding another dimension of pleasure to that region. She felt as if her entire body were being powered and driven by the large shaft running through her.

The intense desire was once again building in Sara with a frightening intensity. With each thrust it seemed to build higher, until she wondered that she didn't explode with her impending orgasm. What was holding her back?

"You'll get what you want when I get what I want," she heard him say.

"What do you want?" she wondered. He kept driving into her throughout their conversation. She was only half-aware of what was being said, as the terrible yearning seemed to curl into dangerous spirals of delicious anticipation that she feared might make her lose her mind.

"I want
you
," he explained. "To be my lover." He allowed what he was telling her to sink in for a minute before continuing, yet he never for an instant let up with his steady thrusts. "I'll be your secret lover and I won't even exist," he laughed. "How can you do any better than that?"

Sara was in no frame of mind to be negotiating. All she cared about at that moment was getting the relief she needed. She knew she would have to achieve some kind of release before she would be able to think again. Her desire couldn't just keep building up in her like this forever, could it? She didn't believe she would survive if it did. Already, she could feel an exquisite tenderness swelling her insides, causing them to cling at the intrusive thing driving through her with a kind of reflexive resistance. The sensations as her insides gripped him tormented her. She had reached the point of orgasm, but was somehow stuck there. Usually, when her desire reached this point, her release, like a giant wave, would break into a great rushing crescendo of satisfying pleasure. There was normally only a single precious instant of extraordinary euphoria in the transition between the building of pleasure and the climax, but that instant was somehow being stretched out indefinitely. She felt that it was too much for her to endure. Surely she would burst under the pressure. Perhaps she would lose her mind. She couldn't seem to get herself over the crest that normally she would never have been able to stop.

Yet the last shred of sanity that she possessed argued that to acquiesce with the demands of an entity that had the power to keep her dangling in this strange sort of sexual purgatory would be tantamount to selling her soul to the devil.

"I would be his sexual slave," she thought.

"And I would be yours," he countered.

If only he would allow her the release she needed. But her hips remained high in the air and virtually helpless to the exquisite battering that kept her hovering in a limbo of pleasure bordering on torture.

"The pleasure of the release I can give you will be better than anything you can imagine," he promised her.

"Ray," she thought.

"Ray's right here," he reminded her. "And he has no idea what we're doing."

"Oh, God help me," she thought miserably. "Very well, I'll be your lover."

"Say my name," he demanded.

"Jimmy," she thought.

"No, say it out loud."

"But Ray…"

"Whisper it. Just say it with your lips."

She felt a sudden fear, but the tantalizingly torturous sensation of wavering on the edge of release for so long was more intimidating than any potential fear. How many times had she wished the sensation she was feeling would last a little longer, she wondered ironically? Always it was so fleeting as to be unreal. But to experience it for an extended period was more than a person was meant to bear. It was like teetering just off the edge of a cliff. She would gladly plunge to her death rather than to remain indefinitely in midfall.

"Jimmy," she whispered tentatively, and in the very next instant, whatever it was that had been frozen in her was suddenly released in a gush of pleasure so powerful she screamed. Violent, racking tremors shook her body in large, tremulous waves of dizzying delight. Eventually the intensity of each wave decreased, and she was left trembling.

Sara was only partially aware of her surroundings. She vaguely remembered that Jimmy had exploded inside her at the same moment that she had found her own satisfaction, but it suddenly dawned on her that he had also, at some point, disappeared. The pressure on her legs had been released but they still hung in midair. Ray, who had been awakened by her scream, was reaching for her in the dark. If he noticed her odd position with legs all akimbo, he didn't mention it. She struggled to right herself, trembling violently, as Ray pulled her to him. She tried to push him away from her but he would not let her. His body felt so warm and she realized suddenly that she was shivering with cold. Jimmy had carried no warmth with him at all.

Ray clasped Sara to him, holding her firmly in the spooning position and she felt herself beginning to warm. "What is it, sweetheart?" he asked her in his husky, sleep-filled voice. "Bad dream?"

Sara couldn't speak. She was too overcome with guilt. That Ray was comforting her left her bereft.

"Baby? Are you all right?"

"Mmm." She didn't trust her voice.

He tightened his hold on her. Tears filled her eyes. But luckily, whatever it was that just happened had exhausted her. It was all she could do to remain awake. As she was losing consciousness, she heard a voice say, "Sweet dreams," but she couldn't tell if it was Ray or the voice inside her head. She simply surrendered to sleep without responding.

When Sara awoke the next morning she was alone, it seemed, and there were tears still on her cheeks. She was trembling again and very cold. The first thing she was aware of was an intense feeling of emptiness. She had an overwhelming longing, an acute aching that left her virtually starving for something she wasn't able to name. She was so weak that she couldn't seem to raise a finger on her own behalf.

Desolate, she looked around. It was ten o'clock! Ray must have gone to work. How had she slept so late into the day? She would have to call in sick at the office.

She made an effort to rouse herself but her limbs refused to move. As her mind became more alert, her sense of despair grew stronger. It seemed as if she had developed some kind of new, essential need, crucial to her survival, impossible to live without. She was staggered by the intensity of it. The word
addiction
came to her mind with an overwhelming surge of horror.

And then it hit her, with a force that terrified her more than death itself. The awful yearning, the brutal craving, the burning, aching desire that was spreading through her in curling, winding tendrils, like the smoke that streams from a cigarette, had its origin in her womb. She had this realization just as she heard the familiar chuckling inside her head.

"No!" she thought, but her objection instantly melted away. Her desire, and her overwhelming relief that he was there, superseded everything else. The swiftness with which this strange new need was taking hold reminded her of what she had heard about crack cocaine addiction, and how a single incident could bring it about. She felt instinctively that this was even more potent than that. Although the addiction seemed to have a firm hold of her body, she knew that its source originated in her mind. She remembered the pleasure she felt the night before and the need suddenly surged up in her, sending a violent shudder through her body, just at the thought. It seemed as though she had experienced a pleasure so intense that the mere memory of it was able to create deficits in those areas of her brain unfamiliar with how to achieve the same effect.

But even realizing all of this, Sara was already adopting the reasoning of the addict, pushing these realizations and her hope for a solution aside until such time, she promised herself, when she felt well enough to address them. For the moment, she must have relief. The incredible aching need was quickly penetrating the region between her legs, and once again dominating the forefront of her thoughts.

Jimmy was there with her, but why was he silent? What was he up to now?

"I thought I'd give you the opportunity to come to terms with the situation," he chimed in just then. "I've been waiting for you to wake up and call for me again."

She couldn't even put up a pretense of rejecting him. She felt him moving over her and she opened her legs wide. But she quickly discovered that he was not going to appease her need without making her work for it. She felt his hardness pressing against her lips and with dismay she opened her mouth to him.

"Why can't you satisfy me first?" she protested. "I'll do this for you after."

"You'll do it first," he told her. "I'll give you what
you
want after."

Her desire assaulted her like shards of glass scraping the tender flesh between her legs. It pierced her insides violently, demandingly, causing the membranes to rise up and moisten.
God help me,
she thought miserably.
I must get this over with quickly.
She gagged as he pushed himself against the back of her throat.

"Open your throat to me," he said. "If you swallow all of me, I promise I'll relieve you."

"I can't!" she thought.

"You can," he assured her. "You can, and you will, or you won't get what you need."

Sara tried to open her throat to him, but it seemed to have a mind of its own. It kept rejecting the massive appendage that kept pressing to get in. It suddenly occurred to her that she might be able to satisfy herself without him. Perhaps she could find something similar to him in size to use.

"You'll kill yourself trying," he warned her. "You can't get the feeling you're now craving without me."

"But I can't do this," she cried inwardly.

"You can," he told her. "Concentrate. Relax the muscles in your throat."

Sara tried to do as he instructed, but it was difficult to think about anything other than the screaming need between her legs. "It's so big," she objected, "and hard." It didn't seem possible. Yet she was getting nearer with each try. She had to do it. She simply had to. She couldn't even think about the alternative. She needed him. Later, she promised herself…but she abruptly turned her thoughts back to the here and now. For the moment, she could no longer delay her relief.

Sara tipped her head back as far as it would go and determinedly fought her gag reflex as Jimmy pressed forward. At last she felt the full, rigid thickness of him slowly filling her throat. She struggled to breathe through her nose, and realized she was panting from her exertions. He kept going until he was lodged deep within her throat, so deep that he could move in and out and still never fully withdraw. She strained her neck, holding her head at the perfect angle so that he could make better use of her. He was moaning and encouraging her. "That's it," he said delightedly. "Oh, Sara, your throat feels so good. Oh, yes, I can remember now why I always liked this so much. It feels so good to have my dick embedded in your throat."