Dreams and realities

Your erotic dreams are jolted suddenly. Someone is shaking you, trying to wake you. You moan in sleepy protest, part of your mind aware that it sounds like a moan of lust. You feel yourself being shaken again.

"Lisa, are you alright?" Pete's concerned voice intrudes into your drowsy consciousness, and you murmur something incoherent. You become aware that you're laying on your belly, your knees folded under you, your ass raised. You realize you have one hand fondling your pussy, your fingers slick with your juices. Pete's rough hand touches your forehead.

"You're burning up girl, lets get some air onto you," he says, unzipping the sleeping bag and lifting it slightly to let some of your heat escape.

"She ok?" another voice asks, and you hear footsteps coming towards you.

"Think she was having a nightmare, poor kid. She's really hot, might be feverish. Get her some water, we don't want her to dehydrate."

You're slowly becoming more awake and aware, but the images from your dream still linger in your mind. Your hand still strokes your pussy, feeling your lips swollen with arousal. You rub a finger against your clit, the feel forcing a moan out of you. Without wilful thought, you rock your hips, rubbing yourself against your hand.

"Come on Lisa, sit up and drink some water," another voice says. You think it's Mike, but your memories of the evening are blurred. Obediently, and suddenly fiercely thirsty, you push yourself upright with one hand, the other still stroking your pussy. The sleeping bag falls away from your shoulders, exposing your ripe breasts as you reach for the glass of water. You hear two quick indrawn breaths from the men as they see your lovely body.

"Pierced nipples," the one you think is Mike says with an amused tone to his voice. You look at him as you drink from the glass and wriggle a bit, your lush mounds quivering at your movement. Your other hand rubs your clit, one finger pressing between your lips, teasing you. Your pussy is drenched with your arousal, you mind full of the images of your dream.

"She's playing with herself," Pete says, his deep voice seeming to resonate through your tender body. You hand the glass back to Mike with murmur of thanks, your hips rocking gently against the ministrations of your hand.

"Damn, she's ripe," the other says. "You still dreaming girl?" He reaches out a hand to touch your shoulder and you turn your head to nuzzle it, licking at his strong fingers, purring at him.

"This ain't no dream," Pete says. You feel his hand caress your breast, squeezing it gently, his thumb rubbing over the nipple. You press into his hand, moaning softly against the other man's hand. Your fingers rub your flowing pussy, sending quiet shudders through your primed body.

Through half lidded eyes you see that both men are wearing only boxers, and you reach a hand out to stroke Mike's thigh, running your hand over his muscular leg, sliding it upwards to his groin.

"Man, she wants it," he says as your fingers find his cock, squeezing it through the cloth of his boxers. With his words , you know that you do want it, you want a cock, you want both their cocks, and you want them now. You lean forward, pushing your face against his legs, kissing and nuzzling at him, loving the taste of his flesh, the scent of his maleness. You're moaning softly, full of need, loving the feel of the hands that squeeze and caress you.