Morning Glory

He intoxicated her, with little more than his mind.

Morning Glory was his name. She had crept out of bed and tiptoed down the hallway. Flicking the switch, she'd felt the excitement rise as she watched the rainbow colours flash across the screen, and listened to the hum of the modem dialling out. Every second was precious, would she catch him, or was tomorrow going to be another long day? She had never met him, never touched him, never felt his hand on her lower back. Yet, her spine would tingle as though his hand was touching hers for the first time. Every night after speaking to him, she would crawl back into bed, her eyelids heavy, her fingers aching, and her mind touching every inch of his body.

She would find a body in her bed, it was never he, but it was he who sent her into a chamber of desire. He placed her in such state that he never needed to be there. Her partner would feel her mouth at his ankles, slowly moving up the inside of his calves. She would backtrack slightly, and gently nibble the outside of his lower legs. Moving up, she would lick his balls, and nibble his inner thighs, and then she would stop. His mouth would be covered with hers, her tongue searching for signs of awakening, and at the slightest response she would stop. His lips would part, and his mouth would reach out, and she would wait. Wait for him to concede defeat; then she would begin the dance again.

She would see his neck as a feast waiting to be devoured, and attack it with soft vigour; His moans were to her pussy, as is petrol to flames. Her fingers would reach out and twist his nipples, one at a time and always followed by a flick of the warm tongue. She'd blow on them slightly, and then cover them with her mouth and suck on them like a baby at dinnertime. Her fingers would dance around, up and down his sides. Her breasts would be squashed over his cock as she slid her mouth down. His cock would be in her hand, a smile would snake across her lips, her eyes piercing his, and her tongue engulfing the head, as though it was an ice-cream too good to just bite into.

Morning Glory had risen, but he had only fanned the smouldering coals of a firestorm.

Time passed, and she sought solace in her partner, and no longer needed Morning Glory's kick-start.

One morning she awoke, her body languid. A smile curved across her mouth, her lips slightly parted, her body stretched across the bed engulfed by the thick doona. Playing with her hard nipples, she recalled her dream:

She had caught an elevator with her partner, deep into a water basement. As the lift opened, she had found herself floating, naked, into deep waters. Her partner followed her, and they had joined a line of other couples. Women were lined up on one side, and men on the other. At one end of the line, a couple would fuck in the deep water, as the others watched. There was no oxygen, but despite this she did not feel panicked.

She had watched with interest as a tall man met his partner in the center, his face strangely familiar. His arms were lean but strong, his arse perfectly rounded and firm. He took his partners hand, pulling her close to him. His chest was strong, with a slight trail of curls. She felt herself slip into his partner's body, her partner forgotten. His lips were on her breasts, and his tongue flickering over her nipples. She felt his hands lower themselves, holding her arse firmly, and his mouth moving down her stomach. He kicked down in the water, his limbs moving smoothly through the water, and brought his face in line with her pussy.

He gently kissed the inside of her thighs, getting closer and closer to her erect clit. She felt her body tense, as though she was looking over the edge of a cliff. As he gently began kissing her pussy his tongue engulfed her clit; she felt herself let go of the safety barrier, and began the free-fall. There was no beginning or end to his mouth and her pussy; she was lifted from her descent, and her body floated through the air. His tongue explored her, pushing deep inside her. As the tension began to run through her toes and her thighs, her attention turned to his thick erect cock.

She began fighting against his grip; he sensed by the urgency in her movements that there was a hunger inside her. She slid down, running her mouth over his chest. His skin felt smooth against hers, she took his cock into her mouth, his hand gripping her by the hair, pushing her face into his groin. She took him to the back her throat, her tongue dancing over the length of his cock. Her arms wrapped themselves around his firm legs, her hands playing softly with his balls. He released his grip on her enough to allow her to take her mouth from his cock and to use her mouth to caress his balls. She took them in her mouth one at a time, gently licking them. He grasped her arm, and pulled her up with a sense of exigency. He pulled her onto his cock, the hardness cut through her, causing her to silently scream with covetousness. He looked at her in the eye, as he brought her down on his hard cock again.

***

It was a dream she was to keep in mind for sometime, and perhaps never forget. Morning Glory, though a stranger, had found his way into her dreams. He had taken her to a place that she had wondered if she would ever find again. Despite having had expressed her sexuality in a variety of situations, and experimenting with various styles, never before had she been stimulated by a man whose voice she had never heard, whose lips she had not studied, whose smile she had not seen.

He intoxicated her, it seemed, with little more than his mind.