This Is A Fantasy

He holds me, running his hands up and down my arms which are crossed protectively over my body. Somehow I know from his touch that he is a man, even without looking at him I know it. I can feel the firmness of his hands and the strength of his arms. The bulk of his presence behind me and way he holds me, like he’s enveloping me.

I can feel his energy and it feels so different from my own.

Leaning back into him I sigh and he shifts, ducking his head down to tantalizingly tease his lips over the nape of my neck. My head tilts to the side and my knees knock together as I feel it already, the burning heat in my belly that is starting to spread and radiate out through the rest of me in a potent and eager need for something more.

I’ve wanted. I’ve wanted for what feels like months now but is just a single day. I’ve wanted to jump into things and to have it just fucking happen for me.

I have ached for so long and here in my fantasy this man behind me promises that he will put me at ease.

He shifts, moving a little closer. The bulk of him behind me takes form and definition and now I know he’s a man. I can feel him throbbing like a man can. I can feel him pulsing with a heat against my ass, his cock slowly coming to full length and oh what a considerable length it fucking is.

Yes. Yes I want him. Yes I want him to make me a woman and even if it is just a dream it’s going to fucking happen this time. I’m going to give into it and I’m going to want and I’m going to need and god I’m going to have it. I’m going to have every last inch of him.

Finally I’m going to know if all the teasing is worth my while.

His fingers slide, tips only contacting my skin, down my arms to my wrists. Gently they curl around them and envelope them wholly. Firmly they peel them away from me, revealing my body in full.

I feel exposed. I feel like a thousand eyes are on me. I feel like I’m center stage under the spotlight and I can’t open my eyes and I can’t look as he turns me so that everyone can see.

But I like it.

I’ve never been the type who wanted to be the center of attention but as Emily I seem to keep on falling into it. Can’t help the fact that I keep on drawing attention and can’t help the fact that people keep on staring. Can’t help the fact that I keep on drifting further from who I thought I was.

Can’t help the fact that I keep on loving who I am becoming.

I let him twist and turn me, let him reveal me bit by bit. Let him release one wrist and twist the other just so, just enough that I twirl away from him and he spins me like a top, like a dancer on tiptoe as he drifts me to the edges of his arms and then snaps me back into him.

Our bodies press together and my eyes remain shut. I feel him though, my hand against a chest that is broadly firm and flat and strong. Pulsing muscle and warmth to his skin and a pounding heart that is beating for me and me alone.

And as my hips begin to move and his feet start to shift and we start to dance across the endless void of this dreamscape expanse my hand drifts up past his collarbone and creeping towards his neck. And his other hand, the one that isn’t holding mine, slips down to my hip and then around to the small of my back, pulling me into him so that I am pressed against his reassuring bulk.

We dance together. Feet moving to a trained step that I never learned but know implicitly. Bodies swaying and hearts beating faster and hands moving just that little bit more.

His cresting down to press at the top of my pert little ass. Mine pushing up to his jaw and sliding around. Inch by inch coming closer to our destinations as his closes on palming and squeezing in full and mine creep around to guide his head and his lips down to mine.

There is so little space between us now. There is next to none as we dance closer.

There is no room for decency and no way we can stop.

We haven’t left any space for that.

We don’t want to.

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