Hey! Thought I would try something a little different and write my own Fic. First one so we'll just see where it goes. Reviews gratefully received :)
I sit bolt upright. My eyes shoot open. My breathing ragged. My chest heavy. My skin clammy. My breath repeatedly catching in my throat. I lay my head back into the pillow, feeling the silk as it touches my neck, torturing the already overstimulated hairs which are standing to attention.
My eyes are slowly adjusting to their surroundings. Slowly becoming accustomed to the light that seeps through the gap in the curtains. The light bounces off the walls, reflecting onto the bed and highlighting my tanned legs as I lie uncovered on the bed. Somehow in this ordeal I have lost the sheet that usually drapes across my body, protecting me from the outside world. My eyes catch my reflection in the mirror, and it's at that moment that I realise I don't want to be awake, I don't want this to be reality, I want to rewind to just moments ago, I want that to be reality. I want the heaviness on my chest to be caused by an entirely different reason.
In a desperate attempt to feel as I did, to regain that extraordinary pleasure once more I close my eyes, squeezing them as tight as I can and willing myself back to sleep, back into that dream. That dream which originally had taken me by complete surprise. That dream that was so vivid, so clear, so nearly touchable, feel-able. He was so nearly touchable. I wanted those dreamy eyes to be staring back into mine as he teased me.
The desperation I feel to relive the dream that plays so clear in my mind is overwhelming and so I decide to give myself a helping hand in getting back that feeling. Dragging my finger tips across the red silky sheets I allow the feel of the material to move softly beneath me before reaching my thigh. I move my hand to the outside of my leg, running a single finger up and down. With the same single finger I head up my body, dancing my finger up to the top of my thigh, over my hip bone and onto my tummy - drawing shapes that mirrored those that he had made only moments ago. This wasn't enough. How could it be? My senses were so over stimulated now that I couldn't stop. I continued. Reaching for my breast, my nipples already hard from the lustful images that played through my mind. I squeezed my fingers together, catching my nipple between them and imagining those hands didn't belong to me. I tilted my head. My teeth clenched onto my lower lip. This felt so good, but still, my dream had been so much better. My thighs clenched together and it was in that second that I felt the warmness that came from below. I let my hand run down my body, quickly, stroking me as it left my nipples aching for more. It ran over the lace of my black thong as my legs parted in anticipation. My newly manicured finger nail ran down the side of my lips as my back arched off the bed. I could already feel the wetness; feel my juices as they met with my cold fingertips. Before I could stop myself my fingers ran between my lips, tormenting my clit with agonising slowness and a throaty moan escaped my lips. This was it, I was about to recreate my dream. About to feel him touch me all over. To kiss me in a way that left me breathless, to feel him buried deep inside of me.
It was at that moment that the body that lay next to me moved, turning slightly in his sleep. His blonde hair contrasting against the red sheets, his torso speckled with hair. I stared at him. Nick. So sweet. He worshipped the ground I walked on. Made me feel that there was someone in this world who wanted me. And I thought I wanted him. I had wanted him for months, or had I? But as I looked over at him, my fingers still dripping with my wetness I realised maybe I didn't want him as much as I thought. For if I had of done, I wouldn't be lay here now; aroused; horny; dripping wet and needing another man. Another man whose face I hadn't seen for over a year, hadn't spoken to since he ripped my whole world apart. A man who I told myself, and everyone else for that matter, that I was over - that I didn't care, want or love. And I didn't love him. I just wanted him. I wanted him now. I wanted him to take me, to push me into oblivion. I wanted Peter.