Sex After Death
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Copyright ©2013 Alice Gaines
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In Katy's dream, the man had grown to full size and turned to flesh, but he still held the chill of stone as his body moved over hers. She lay in her bed, somehow able to glance around her room through closed lids. She couldn't see him, but she could feel him, his hands roaming her breasts, his fingers rough around her nipples.
She tried to touch his back to prove he was really there, but her arm wouldn't move. Nothing would move, even when she concentrated on no more than getting her big toe to ease upward.
Her invisible lover had paralyzed her, and though none of this was real, she knew with a dreamer's certainty the creature making such thorough love to her was the planter/statue she'd bought a few hours before, Sir Hung-like-a-horse.
Would she finally get to see his cock fully engorged? More important, would she get to feel it between her legs, seeking the entrance to her pussy and then easing its way in?
As soon as the thought had lodged in her head, it traveled all the way down to her sex and stuck there. Moisture pooled between her thighs. Her body prepared itself for sex well enough even if it wouldn't let her move to get any.
Achy and throbbing, her clit demanded attention. She needed to come. Needed it strongly enough to reduce her to begging. If she could touch herself, she'd climax quickly. Even better if she could get him to touch her with the fingers currently massaging her breasts.
The best of all would be if she could have his cock inside her. No more than a few thrusts, and she'd explode all around him.
Please, her mind shouted, but no more than a whimper came out of her mouth. In response, he continued his torment of her breasts, but now he also nipped gently at her shoulder. His breath fanned over her flesh -- not cold, exactly, but not hot like a human lover's. Cool.
If she could see him... if she could speak... lift her arms to invite him into an embrace and part her legs to make room for him, maybe he'd give her what she needed. At least she could reach to his cock to discover if it had grown long and thick.
After several moments, his hand finally began a slow journey over her belly while his mouth covered one nipple. He sucked with exactly the right pressure to make her heart thunder in her chest.
Her own harsh breathing filled the room, the sound of a woman becoming hopelessly aroused. The throbbing between her legs grew into a fire. So hot. He could put it out if he'd only touch her. He could fix her by giving her the orgasm just out of her reach.
This time, her mind shrieked Please! and a cry bounced off the bedroom walls all around them.
Low, soft laughter answered. A rumbling baritone. He knew what he was doing to her, and he enjoyed it. Could this be the curse? Eternal arousal with no satisfaction could certainly feel like hell. Maybe she shouldn't have watered him, after all. And maybe all the superstition had created a perfectly normal erotic dream. She'd never had one like this before.
It felt so fucking real, as if she really were in bed with an invisible man whose cool touch was turning her molten inside. Was his cock erect? If so, had it maintained its huge size? Could she take it all inside her without any pain? God, she'd give anything to find out. Anything.
As if he'd read her mind, he moved over her and settled between her legs. The tip of his hard-on pressed against her inner thigh -- the swollen head, firm but very human and not cold at all. So hot, it burned as if it had to bathe in her juices to put the fire out.