Living My Dream

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Living My Dream – The Meeting

——–

My grin is ear to ear with welcome and anticipation as I watch you exit through the airplane door. You ARE tall, towering over the other deplanees. Standing a shade over six feet four inches you told me in an e-mail, you look even taller than you appear in the pictures we exchanged. You do not look gigantic though, with your slender, ‘lean and lanky’ as you put it, well-proportioned body. Your blue western style shirt with its pearl-like snaps matches your eyes. I can’t see, because of the people between us, but I know you are wearing your snug-fitting Levi’s and boots.

I am thrilled to see your smile, expectant, hopeful, as your head swivels with your eyes darting, searching, trying to find me in the crowd. Suddenly your eyes drop and your gaze locks with mine. You have been looking too high to see me standing at four feet ten inches before my high-heel sandals.

Your smile expands with relief and pleasure that I am actually here, that we are finally meeting. As you look at me, I welcome the joy in your expressive face, knowing, hoping our fantasies will soon be realized, that I may live my dream.

I am wearing what I told you, what you wanted me to wear. My tube top band is a tan only slightly darker in color than my skin. It barely covers and clearly shows the convexity of my small breasts with their erect nipples.

My skirt rides low on my hips and is a dark brown, the same color as my shoulder length hair and my painted finger and toenails. It is twelve inches from waistband to hem and, from the rear, only covers the swell of my ass cheeks.

If I lock my knees and bend over as to pick something off the floor, my bare pussy will be exposed to anyone behind me. If I’m not careful of how I sit, my shaved beaver will flash anyone in front of me. I guess its not a beaver if its shaved, right?

For a born and bred New York City career girl (your term), I have an unusual dream. Since I was a child watching the heroics of Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, The Lone Ranger and others righting wrongs and rescuing damsels like me in distress, I have dreamed of having a Texas Cowboy Lover.

Despite, or possibly because of, my small stature, I have always been attracted to tall slim men as my Cowboy heroes always seemed to be. With the impracticalities of life, no dancing cheek to cheek, the jeers of Mutt and Jeff catcalls, I have never been able to establish a serious relationship with a man who fit my dream. Your e-mails seem to be the answer to this maiden’s prayers.

You say you always envied girls as you were growing up; they played with dolls but as a boy you could not. As an adult, now, you say you have realized what is missing from your life. You still want a doll as you did when you were a boy; but you want a real live flesh and blood doll. One you can pick up and carry around, treat with love, lavish with affection, as does a small girl playing with her dolls. I hope, again your words, I fit the bill.

As we come together in the crowded terminal you bend to slip one arm around my waist and the other under my ass cheeks. You straighten and lift me off the floor. I wrap my arms around your neck. The way you hold me, suspended but pressed tightly against your body, we are face to beaming face. Your lips come toward me for our first kiss, but you stop, withdraw.

I understand your hesitation. You think, you know, I will welcome your kiss, but this in public; we are surrounded by thousands of people. I have told you I am somewhat of an exhibitionist, proved I think by the way I am dressed, but even with the numerous e-mails and the hours spent on the telephone, we are still learning about each other. And now, being together in person for the first time, looking physically at each other with our eyes open, rather than closed and seeing only in our minds, you pause, awaiting my reaction.

I tighten my arms pulling our faces together. Our lips meet gently, then harder as our passion mounts. My mouth opens inviting your tongue. Mine immediately starts to duel. We thrust, push, circle, feel, taste. I don’t know how long you stand there, holding me against you, my sandals at least two feet from the floor, our lips locked together, but finally we separate.

Asking about your bags, we go to the claim area to retrieve them. You made reservations at a mid-town hotel for this meeting. You do not want to force me if our meeting does not go well. The only commitment for this meeting is to explore; to hopefully expand the relationship we started developing via e-mail, and continued with phone calls. If this meeting goes well, we can/will have others in the future. If all does not go well, we will have enjoyed our e-mails and conversations.

We arrive at the baggage claim area. I tug on the hand I am gripping with both of mine as if you will leave me, disappear, if I let go. You lean down so I can whisper in your ear I need to make a phone call. I smile at your look of apprehension. Your face lights up as bostancı escort bayan if bathed by a spotlight when I tell you I am canceling your hotel reservation.

We enter a cab for the ride to my midtown apartment. Before we leave the curb you have me in your lap with your arms around me. You kiss me until my head spins. Your hand caresses my legs below my skirt, my bare midriff, my breasts through my top. Your fingers rub and circle my nipples which are so hard they are painful. I am so dizzy I almost do not recognize my building when we arrive.

We gather your bags and enter the building. At the elevator bank I push the UP button. When it arrives we shove your bags inside. I punch 7 for my… our floor. As the elevator starts to rise, you punch the STOP button.

I do not know what you are planning to do. I had never seen you before an hour ago. The only thing I know about you is your e-mails and phone calls, true or false. This is the first time we have actually been alone, no airport crowd, no cab driver. I trust you. You may do anything to me you wish.

You push me gently into the corner of the elevator and drop to your knees before me, sitting on your heels. With a knee against each wall you have me trapped. You take my left ankle in your hands and lift. You trail a wet kiss from my calf to my ankle, then my toes as you remove my sandal. You repeat the action with my other foot.

You tell me to step onto your thighs and you position my feet. As I do my shoulders are forced into the corner while my hips jut toward you. You stare upward into my eyes.

You grasp each ankle in a hand. Your hands are warm, hot, almost burning my skin. You begin slowly moving them upward, your fingers on the outside of my ankles, my calves, my knees, my thighs. Your thumbs are on the inside. The warmth from your hands flows upward faster than their slow sensual movement.

I feel the warmth concentrating in my shaved pussy. I keep it clean shaven to heighten the sensitivity of my most private parts. I can have mini-climaxes just blowing my breath across the freshly shaved tender skin. As I have had few serious satisfying relationships I have learned myriad ways by which to pleasure myself. Sharing, however, is better.

I was moist while waiting in anticipation at the airport. I became even juicier while in your lap during the cab ride home. I am now absolutely soaked.

My pussy is getting hotter and hotter as the warmth from your hands radiates into it. Your hands slowly, slowly travel upward. I can feel my pussy getting wetter and wetter. Secretions begin to trickle down my thighs. This has never happened to me before. Dripping, I have never been so wet.

Your hands reach the bottom of my skirt. You gently push upward until it becomes a narrow band around my waist. I realize why you wanted me standing on your thighs. My exposed sex is directly before you.

I can feel your eyes. They touch, explore, memorize, feast. I sense your pleasure in the sight before you. The pleasure becomes mine. I am so pleased I am pleasing you.

Your arms slip between my legs. Your hands cup my ass cheeks. You pull me toward you, spreading me, separating me. Beautiful you murmur. Your eyes look up into mine. You sniff. You smile. You inhale the odor. You press against my mound of Venus. You rub and smear my wetness on your face.

Your tongue emerges. It touches. It tastes. I see you smile by the crinkle of your eyes. Delicious floats to my ears.

Your tongue begins to clean the juices from my skin. It follows down the trail of a rivulet, then back upward on another, again and again. Your task is impossible. You cannot get all of my secretions. There is a pump inside me. The more you lick and clean, the more is generated.

Your flattened tongue moves over my nether lips. You press and roll them from side to side. Your tongue narrows. It spreads the lips and slips into the cleft. It probes. It searches. It finds and enters the hole it sought. It reams. It slips in and out. I did not know I was so sensitive there.

The feeling is incredible. A quivering starts deep inside me. I feel an orgasm building. Your mouth forms a seal around my labia as your tongue continues its magic. I feel the suction you apply as you drain juices from inside my body.

Your eyes stay locked with mine. You watch. You enjoy each expression as it flits across my face. I feel your pleasure. You take me into a realm of sexuality where I have never been. You raise me to a level of excitement I have never before experienced.

I am hovering on the edge of an orgasm I know will be greater than any I have ever had. The quivering is expanding from deep within my body to the surface of my skin. My legs begin to tremble.

Your lips move. You surround my clitoris. You drag your tongue across it. I explode. I jet to the heavens.

My legs buckle. If you were not holding me I would slip into a puddle on the floor. You continue to support me by my cheeks.

I ümraniye escort soar. I dip. I glide. I sail like a kite on a string in the wind. Your gentle mouth and tongue continue their ministrations. I slowly begin to return to normalcy, but can I ever return to normal from where you have sent me. You hit my clit again. I have another eruption. Never have I climaxed twice in a row like this. It is as great as the first one. The feelings from this second orgasm begin to taper off. My panting for breath slows.

You do it for the third time. The world grays. I am poised on the brink of oblivion. If these feelings get more intense, if they continue, I will pass out. No, No more, I murmur. I’m too sensitive. Please.

Finally I can shift a little. Some strength returns to my legs. You lift me off your thighs and set my feet on the floor. You gently tug my skirt down, covering me, returning me to a semblance of decorum.

You rise. You are standing on your knees. You look deep in my eyes. You see my soul. We rub noses. You tell me you have never experienced any thing so beautiful. I tell you we experienced it.

You punch the button to continue our trip to the seventh floor. We have not made it to the apartment yet but we have made it to my dream. We still have two nights and two days to spend together for me to continue to live my dream.

And I have not touched you yet.

——–

Living My Dream – The Weekend

The elevator arrives at my/our floor. Carrying my sandals, I unlock and open the door to the apartment. You place a hand on my shoulder to stop me from entering. I look up at you. You lift and carry me into the apartment as a groom carries his bride.

You kiss me, stand me on the floor, and request, wait. You bring in your bags and shut and lock the door.

You pick me up as a father would a child, sitting me on your hip. I wrap my legs around your waist, my arms around your neck. I nibble gently on your ear lobe. The bedroom is there, I point. Carrying me, you pick up the bags, one by one, and move them into it.

I like this I say, leaning back into the support of your arm. My cuntal mound is pressed against your hip. Little tingles race throughout my body as you move.

I run my fingers over your face. I smooth your eyebrows. I follow the length of your nose, then along your jaw line. I trace your lips with my finger tips. I read your face as if it were written in Braille. I can feel the residue of my juices you acquired in the elevator.

You lay me on the bed and stretch out beside me. I suddenly realize why I bought this king-size bed. I can almost get lost in it. It is almost twice as long as I am tall. I cannot reach both sides with my arm span. I bought it for you, before we met, before we exchanged the first e-mail.

I snuggle against you as you hold me. I run my hand over your chest, feeling the smooth cotton of your shirt. I undo two snaps and slip my hand under your shirt. I feel your bare skin and you shudder. I need to bathe, I tell you. Looking at the clock, we have dinner reservations in two hours.

Plenty of time, you whisper, then you tell me if we bathe now, we’ll have to do it again before we leave.

I ask you why.

I am going to make mad passionate love to you, you say longingly.

I inform you the bath can wait.

You bite a nipple through my top with your lips. I grasp your member through your jeans to feel the hard length of it. I want to touch it, skin to skin. I know it will be soft and silky on the outside with a solid hard inner core.

Your hand caresses my other breast then slips down across my stomach. A finger tickles my belly button as it passes. The hand comes to rest cupping my mound through my skirt. I try to open my legs to give you better access but the skirt is too tight, too confining.

I sit up shouting, no clothes, as I jerk my top off. I shed my skirt before you can remove your boots and socks. I reach around you and pop your shirt snaps. I peel your shirt over your shoulders as you stand. You face me as you undo your belt buckle and jean buttons. I sit on the edge of the bed and help you lower your jeans. I pull them over your feet.

Hold still, I demand. I place my hands on your hips, on the waistband of your bikini briefs.

Your manhood is trapped, confined. It points to the side within the restriction of the cloth. It is directly before my face. I stroke it with my finger tips. I feel the throb of your heartbeat pulsing within it. I pull out on the front of your briefs to free your cock. It leaps upright, bobbing, as if bowing and saying hello to me. I press my cheek against your member. I lower the cloth so you can step out of them.

I place my hand on your cock and bend it so it points toward me. I lean forward and kiss the tip. I kiss it again, then lick. I hear a low moan from you. I swirl my tongue around the head, tasting, leaving it shiny with my saliva. I take just the head within my mouth and suck escort kartal gently while I run my tongue around it. I pull my head back until it pops out of my mouth when the suction breaks.

I like, I say. I run my wet flattened tongue down one side until my cheek touches your body. I do the same to the other side. I pull back, look at it, open my mouth and take the head in again. I lean forward, sucking, moving my tongue against the bottom of the shaft as it goes deeper and deeper.

I feel a pressing against the back of my throat. I reflexively swallow. You feel the workings of my throat. You groan. My throat opens. You slip in. My nose presses against your pubic bone. My throat is working, trying to swallow but you are too deep and keep the passage open. I can not draw a breathe. My mouth and nostrils are blocked. I pull back, sucking air. I’ve never done that, I whisper in amazement. I suppose I really never wanted to.

I take you back in my mouth. I hear you say, fantastic. I’ve never felt that either. I suck, move my tongue, and bob up and down. I fuck, no, I make love to you with my mouth. I continue until you warn me you are about to cum. Only once have I taken a man’s cum in my mouth. It was an accident. I did not know it was going to happen until too late. I did not like the taste or consistency. It almost made me ill.

I look up at you with you still in my mouth. Will you mind if I remove my mouth and finish you off with my hand. In an e-mail you said you did not care, that you want me to do what I want, that you will never try or make or force me to anything I do not want to do.

I want you to cum in my mouth. I want to taste you. I want to swallow you. I want you to be a part of me. I communicate to you with my eyes. You understand.

You erupt. Blast after blast enters my mouth. I try to savor your taste but my mouth overfills. I frantically swallow and try not to cough. I do not want to lose any of you. Your volume diminishes. It slows to a trickle. I savor the taste. It is delicious. I want more. I hold just the head in my mouth. I drain all you have to offer. I swab the head and shaft with my tongue until it is clean.

I lean back. I run my tongue around the inside of my mouth. I lick my lips. I have not wasted a single drop. I smile up at you. I am proud. Your expression says you are proud of me also.

You lift me so I stand on the bed. You lean to kiss me. I turn my head. I still have your essence in my mouth. I know you do not want it. I need to quickly brush my teeth and rinse my mouth. You laugh gently. You ask if I minded tasting myself when we kissed in the elevator. I tell you no, but that is different. You laugh lovingly.

You place your hands on my face so I cannot turn my head. You slowly, slowly, with your eyes open and looking into mine, press your lips gently to mine. Your tongue touches my lips asking them to open. I comply. I welcome the invasion of your tongue. Our kiss continues and deepens.

A hand slides caressingly down my body. It cups my sex. I spread my legs to give you unhindered access. I feel a finger enter. I welcome the intrusion. Moistness from the elevator has not completely dried. It is increasing.

I try to follow the finger as it withdraws. I do not want to lose it. I do not want it to leave. I relax as it returns. I feel it leaving again. I try to follow it again.

A second finger enters with the first. I lose my pace. I start to hunch forward as the fingers enter. I relax as they withdraw. I am getting wetter. The odor of my sex and juices wafts upward. I hope he’s not offended by my smell, I think. You read my mind. Such lovely perfume, you murmur.

Our eyes are still locked together. We have not blinked. Mine close. I shudder as the heel of your hand touches my clit as your fingers leave. Enter, out, touch, shudder, enter, out, touch, shudder. Your hand rocks on my mound. Your touch on my swollen labia is exquisite.

I try to lower myself to the bed. You hold me up with your hand and your fingers.

I open my eyes. I’m ready, I tell you.

I know, you murmur.

You do not move fast enough. I want you, I say.

You have me, you reply.

You continue, enter, out, touch, shudder. I want you in me, I demand.

You will have me, you whisper. You continue to hold and to stroke.

Now, I almost scream.

You lay me down. You crawl on the bed over me. You completely cover me. I am hidden. I am protected. With you over me nothing can harm me.

I move my legs so you are between them. I am completely open to you. I have no defense to anything you wish to do. I want you to do with me what you will.

You kiss me deeply, passionately. My head is spinning. An enormous void has formed in the center of me. You must fill me.

We had talked about the physical disparity in our size. You expressed a fear that you might hurt me, that you might be too big. I told you in my best southern drawl, honey, I’m a full growed woman down there.

You lower yourself. You rub your cock up and down the cleft between my nether lips. Your up strokes touch my clit. Lightning flashes with each touch. I take your cock in my hand. I place it at the mouth of my vagina. I try to pull it in. I must have my void filled.

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