Fifty Shades of Grey Fan-Fiction Skeleton
Plot: Ana and Christian have begun their relationship; or, whatever these types of arrangements are called. It's Ana's first night in Christian's luxurious penthouse, and a certain dream lures the implausibly handsome millionaire to her bedroom.
Ghostly Encounters
I'm in Christian Grey's apartment. Correction; I'm in Christian Grey's multi-million dollar condominium, no doubt designed specifically by my sex-God- my sex God? My inner goddess was simultaneously smirking whilst applying the last coat of Revlon's: "Dare to be kissed" ruby red nail polish. Although this had only been my first sexual encounter-unless you include my "hot and heavy" seven minutes in heaven make-out session with Dylan Goldenburg in the fourth grade a sexual encounter-I would temporarily allow myself to bask in my accomplishment. What accomplishments you ask? Prior to my arrival to "Dark and Broodings" luxurious accommodations, the Katherine Kavanaugh inquisition successfully mangled the truth from my anxious heart.
"I will guarantee that an orgasm is next to impossible, especially given you're a virgin."
Despite the overwhelming atmosphere I was in, Kate's words rang clear in my head-that is until my pants came off. I had prematurely launched myself to a place of reservation; I had no reason to doubt the validity of Kate's statement given the context of our conversation-or at least, I thought I didn't. I exercise little concern when it comes to the warnings that erupt during the Katherine Kavanaugh inquisition, fortunately enough I was given more reasons as to why I should continue to do so.
Orgasm, I most certainly did.
I had very little experience with climaxing; very little meaning absolutely none at all. Masturbation was a door that I preferred to keep closed, an opportunity that I would not choose not to indulge in. As medieval as it may seem, all the pleasure I really needed came from my literature.
"Good luck with that from now on," My inner goddess snarled.
She was right. Although literature would always be my time-passing alternative, sex with Christian Grey is going to be a very close runner up moving forward.
I let my eyes wander around the dimly lit room. Battling the temptation of sleep, I sat up in bed and ran my fingers across the ivory bedside table till I found the switch for the lamp. In an instant my senses were overwhelmed with opulence. The room I was in, Christian had designated as the room for his "Submissive"; it was gorgeous. Soft textures filled my eyesight and silently satiated my un-diagnosed Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I scanned the room, taking in each detail. The curtains that had been chosen were so Christian; heavy, smothering… gray.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and beckoned my legs to stand; they were trembling, no doubt from the exhilaration of the hours most recent activities. The plush carpet was welcoming and yielding against my feet; soft, microbial, and no doubt a witness to Christian's many previous submissive women. To my right was an elegant Harlow-Wing arm chair; again, just like Christian. A thought immediately came to mind that was dismissed as soon as it had been announced in my head: Had Christian ever fucked in this room; in that chair; against those curtains?
I wouldn't allow my brain to process an answer to any of the questions, my inner goddess submissively agreed to my jurisdiction and sprawled herself along a coral red chaise lounge.
I surveyed the room, examining each small detail to see whether the 'control-freak', multi-millionaire was as domineering with his furniture as he was with his women. I made it my goal to un-cover as many pieces of accent pieces as possible-anything I could find that may be seen to the outside world as a flaw, or detail that was mistaken.
My search was unsuccessful.
All of that hard work-and for nothing! I deduced that my heavy detective work was thorough; as a result of my labour I would take it upon myself to get a drink. Walking through the elegantly lit corridor to the kitchen was more of a task than searching for a flaw that wasn't there in Christian's spare room; my legs were trembling and my womanhood was aching from over-use.
My trek was well worth the memories that caused the quake in my womanhood; I would be forever indebted to Britta water filters. Walking back to my designated resting place was once again a pleasurable reminder of tonight's activities.
I finally decided that the fight against sleep vs. no sleep was coming to an epic finale; sleep ultimately overtook me.
"Touch yourself; show me how you make yourself feel good."
Christian's words in the hollow of my neck were enough to send a woman over the edge, in both unparalleled pleasure and madness. My back arched in reverie, showing him with actions vs. words that I was appreciative of his attention. His hands found their rhythm, stroking my nipples with experienced fluidity. God, my lover is skilled and I am grateful. With each stroke of his finger, and a small sting as his nails nipped at the sensitive skin there, I could feel a coil building up within the depths of my stomach. No! Not so soon! My inner goddess was waving a giant white flag, practically begging or the dam to be broken. I didn't want this; I wanted to elongate this feeling, this experience. I knew as soon as I allowed my orgasm to take me over, he would allow himself to follow soon after and recede into his cold, less-tranquil demeanor.
Did I dare; I know if I fought for dominance in order to prolong our activities, it would awaken the beast and I would be spending the remainder of my time screaming out the name of my chiselled Adonis.
What the hell…
I found my courage and raised my head from its tilted position to look down at him. Christian's tongue was orchestrating a tantalizing assault on my clitoris, the walls of my womanhood on the brink of sexual collapse. I raised my foot and placed it on his shoulder, pushing him away; his eyes met mine and I knew acting quickly was my only option before all involuntary movement was restricted. I found my strength and gave my head a shake to level everything; unfortunately doing so only resulted in discombobulation.
I placed both hands on his chest, relishing in the feeling of his sculpted pectorals and gave another, more violent, push. His eyes were full of wonder, confusion, and arousal. I moved my hands down his chest till my fingers felt the rough tranquility that was his pubic hair. I made a move; in an instant I had scooted down the bed and opened my mouth to welcome the girth of my sex God. Christian's groan of appreciation was almost enough to send me over the edge. I doubted that an opportunity like this one would ever make itself available again, and so I pulled out every trick I had ever overheard in the lunch room, or witnessed in accidental viewings of pornographic films.
My tongue found its rhythm and soon enough I could feel the difference in terms of length and girth when it came to my delicious millionaire dominant. I allowed myself a moan-my boon for allowing my inner goddess to take control. "Ana; Ana, stop. I'm going to come…" God I wanted him too. I wanted to feel the surge of his ejaculation and know that I was the reason. I wanted to taste him; to taste the man that made me feel as superlative as I did.
Alas, Christian wouldn't be Christian if he wasn't as brash as he is. In an instant my hands were tied above my head, my legs and torso held captive under the body of my sex God. He was inside me, filling me and stretching the walls of my womanhood in a deliciously painful way.
"Christian!" was all I could bare to moan. The sensuality of my blowjob in addition to the exceptional foreplay he had administered prior were enough to send me tumbling down the hill. With each thrust, Christian's cock pushed me to another level of pleasure; I would soon be experiencing what I'm sure was a rolling orgasm. My legs began to shake and soon the room was nothing except for Christian and I.
"Ana! God, Ana!" He grunted my name in a way that threw me to the moon and back. "Ana!" His tone began to change, one of worry and not that of eroticism.
I opened my eyes, and there he was.
His hair was tousled and misshapen; the collar of his deep blue shirt was soiled and each vein in his forehead seemed to protrude. My cheeks were flushed-I didn't need to look in a mirror to know that. His eyes were etched with concern and his body was mere inches from mine.
"You were having a nightmare" His voice was just as heavy as his hands were when they were stroking my body into its orgasm; if only he knew.
"No… I wasn't" I whisper back, only just finding my voice no less than five minutes after his statement. Christian's brow quirked with confusion, before finally amusement settled in his eyes. In a moment, he was standing and headed for the bedroom door. I had thought he was going to leave and allow me to die peacefully from embarrassment, when instead the door was closed. He looked back at me, and I knew. As he began his descent back to the bed, I noticed he'd assumed predator position.
"So then, what sort of dream were you having…? Anastasia?"
