Dream Inspiration

“I want to try something,” he whispered, slipping his hand between my legs.

“Oh?” I replied, refusing to give into his gentle tugs against my flesh.

“I had a dream.”

“A dream?” I had to admit, I was a little intrigued. Anything can happen in a dream. And if he had had one that inspired him, I thought it might be worth trying. “Tell me about it.”

“Not much to tell, really. It started a lot like this, with my hand here, between your legs. With a gentle pull, I spread them open to see what lies between.”

“Mmhmm, then what?”

“I reach in like this and spread you open even further.” He used two fingers of both hands to demonstrate. He gently inserted them, his middle and ring fingers, two on each side, into my pussy, and pulled them apart. “With one hand, I explore your hot, deep pussy.” He turned his hand, palm to the ceiling, and pushed the same two fingers deeper inside, searching until he found what he was looking for—the soft tissue at the front. He crooked his fingers up into the wall of my pussy and caressed that area gently as he continued. “With the other hand, I caress. . .” He rubbed the two middle fingers of his other hand over my lips, behind my pussy, inching slowly toward my asshole, then back up the other side.

His touch was almost so gentle, so soft, that I thought I was imagining it. I shuddered, head to toe, and raised my arms above my head to enjoy his fingers.

“I massage you like this for a long time, several minutes, maybe an hour, never seeking an orgasm—I don’t want you to come. I just want you to enjoy the feeling of my hands on your body.” He pressed his fingers deeper into the soft flesh surrounding my pussy, and expanded his exploration area to include the muscles inside my thigh and up to my stomach.

He kept moving outward, drawing intricate patterns over my skin with his fingers. The other two remained inside, pressing into my pussy, but, like he had said, never seeking orgasm. He gently slid in and out, rubbing his fingers against the walls of my pussy, against the opening and back in, as deep as he could reach with his long thin fingers. In and out, as if making love to me. This wasn’t a fervent fuck, it was soft, delicate, meant to be savored.

He cupped my tit in his hand, squeezing it, kneading it, holding it to his waiting lips. He sucked at my nipple and the sensitive skin around it, flicking it with his tongue in the most aggressive movement he had made since spreading me open.

I sighed, from somewhere deep in my core. Part of me wanted this to continue for hours, as he suggested it might. Part of me, though, wanted to come. His touch, his gentle caresses felt impossibly good, stimulating me more than I could remember being in a while. I felt my pussy grow hot around his fingers and the rest of my flesh followed suit. I was burning up and needed some release.

“Get some ice,” I whispered into his hair.

I pressed my fingers into my pussy to hold his place while he walked away, his nude body illuminated by the moonlight through the window. When he returned with a small cup, I saw his erection, long, hard, pressing up against his pelvis, the head nearly touching his naval. “Do you want to use that?” I asked, softly, not sure which answer I wanted.

He rubbed a hand over it with the same gentle care he had been using to touch me. His cock jerked and shuddered under his hand. He handed the cup of ice to me. “What would you like me to do with the ice?” He made sure I knew he wasn’t asking about his cock.

“Touch me with it. Inside, outside, everywhere.”

He picked up a cube and rolled it around in his hand before putting it in his mouth. He pushed icy, wet fingers back inside my pussy. “That feels amazing,” I moaned.

He did the same with the other hand, cooling his skin completely before returning the ice to the cup. He resumed his gentle caresses, touching me from my neck to my groin and back. He closed cold lips over my nipple, sucking again at my tit.

I shivered at the introduction of so much cold on my body. I still hadn’t decided if I wanted him to keep fingering me like he was or if I wanted him to make me come. I could feel my heartbeat in my pussy and I was sure he could too.

My pussy wanted to come. I took several slow, deep breaths, trying to talk my body out of orgasm for a little while longer.

“Do you want to come?” He met my eyes. I knew he could feel my body’s reactions, feel me shaking, feel the heat inside despite the icy cold of his fingers. He rolled another ice cube around in his hand.

He held it in his palm, pushing his fingers back inside again. As the ice melted, cold water dripped down his palm to touch the opening of my pussy. I shook. I hadn’t answered him. Did I want to come?

Fuck, yes, I wanted to come.

“No,” I moaned.

He squeezed my tit, pinching at my hard nipple, before letting his hand drift back down my torso. “Do you want to come?”

“No.”

He hooked his fingers inside me, rubbing them, firmly, into the soft front wall. I shook harder.

“Do you want to come?”

“No.”

He pressed the fingers of the other hand, still cold from the ice, hard into my clit. Without moving his fingers off my flesh, he drew more of his patterns over my clit and the folds of skin that protected it. I bit down hard on my lip, closing my eyes, pressing my head back into the pillow.

“Do you want to come?”

I couldn’t respond. I shook my head.

“Do you want to come?”

“Yes,” I hissed without opening my mouth.

He put another cube of ice into his mouth. He rolled it around, pushing it in and out between his pursed lips. With the ice still in his mouth, he lowered his head between my thighs.

He pressed his ice-cold tongue into the front of my pussy, in front of his fingers. As he licked from my pussy to my clit, he worked his fingers inside me, pressing harder and harder against the front wall, until I thought he would lift me from the bed by my g-spot. He sucked and licked at my clit, and pinched it between his cold lips. He licked, hard and fast, over the powerful little organ, then pressed his tongue inside again. “You are delicious. Would you like to taste?”

I pulled him up by his shoulders, pressing a kiss into his mouth, licking my pussy from his tongue. “Make me come.” I said, without breaking the kiss. “With your hand.”

He slid his fingers out, in, out, in, rubbing them over my flesh, crooking them forward with each downward thrust. With his other hand, he started working my clit, rubbing at it, firmly, quickly.

I took a deep breath into my lungs, holding it as he kissed me hungrily, his tongue pressing to get past my lips but I didn’t dare release an ounce of the oxygen in my lungs. I was determined to come hard when I finally did.

I felt my hips leave the surface of the bed as I rolled them into his hands, urging him deeper, even though I knew he was as deep as even his long fingers could reach. My pussy throbbed, harder, faster, and I felt it contract, squeezing around his fingers until he was forced to stop rubbing. He continued crooking his fingers forward, but in and out was out of the question.

Hot, salty fluid poured out from my body, covering his hand, soaking the sheets beneath me. With his mouth still covering my own, I howled, breaking the kiss and throwing my head back away from him.

When I was finished, when I could feel the muscles of my pussy, my back, my thighs, finally release, letting me return to the bed, I looked deep into his eyes. “Is that what you had in mind?”