A series of stories "Sweet dreams"

Is there a line between sleep, reality and our fantasy? Everyone sets this line for himself ...

Sleep first.

She lay on her huge bed in total darkness. The body is relaxed after a hot bath, a slight smell of perfume, the quiet music of Frank Sinatra, Indian incense with the smell of sandalwood and darkness, thick soft darkness, in which only ghostly shapes can be seen. Her fingers slid over her body, slightly touching the skin, like the wings of a moth. She rocked on the waves of sleep, then, falling into the depths, then, emerging to the top. Each finger touch caused tiny electrical discharges, which gradually concentrated at one point. Velvety skin, it is so sensitive, and so responsive to caresses. Fingers slid everywhere, causing different feelings. The rounded hillocks of the breasts with small hard berries caused languor; rounded thighs, sometimes so shamelessly outstretched, are now tightly compressed, increasing pleasure in the main magic point. Finger slipped there, hips slightly divorced. A slight tremor ran through the body, a rainbow in my head. What kind of flower can be compared with a female? No. This bud blooms, poured with color and nectar, then to disappear again. Like a lotus. Happy shy, at night open to prying eyes. Gliding along the petals of a flower, she moaned a little, nibbling on her plump lips. The heat coming from inside burned fingers, impulses of pleasure randomly flew along the nerves, fogging the head, bringing unreal worlds and their inhabitants there.

She felt him enter the room, although she did not open her eyes. For many years spent together she knew by heart his steps, smell, breathing, even probably air fluctuations. Because it was her man - by nature and fate. He quietly sat down on the bed next to her, without disturbing and saying nothing. She knew that he eagerly and lovingly watched her, enjoying every inch of her body, guessing her every movement in the dim light, inhale deeply to feel even the smell of her molecule. And so for many years he has been burned with passion and love. Because it is his woman - from nature and fate.

She turns to him, finds his lips. The smell of balm after shaving, excites even more. He always shaves at night like a true lover. Her hand drops to his chest, covered with slightly stiff hair. Lips at first gently, then eagerly dig into his lips. His hands are firmly and gently pressed her elastic body to him. Thigh she feels his tense flesh. A hand gliding there, wraps it, a moan breaks from her lips, she loves “him” so much, and he always reciprocates her. Her lips kiss the hole on the chin, cheeks, eyes. Like a cat, curving, she goes down, running elastic breasts over his chest, stomach. Rubbed her cheek on his chest, lips slide down. She feels his muscles tighten under the skin. She already feels the warmth of his flesh near her face, and he feels her warm breath. Sparks seem to run between his flesh and her lips. He does not rush - she likes to tease, torment. Closer and closer. Touching the lips is a moan, touching the tongue is a moan. Short, barely perceptible touch. Marigold lightly pass over the skin. And then he falls into the warm depth of her lips, getting lost in reality, and floating away into the fairy world of her caresses.

She feels someone else entering the room. Alien but not dangerous. Another's lips touch round buttocks, the tongue slides between them. Now she is floating between two different worlds, on both sides encased in warm waves of male power. She lifts one leg and her flower in the grip of another's lips and tongue, drinking her intoxicating nectar. But there is power in her lips too - and she continues her game.

A stranger, tearing himself away from her, slides his lips up her back, leaving traces of fading touches. At the entrance to her flower touches another, male and strong. She embraces him and feels her and his fire.He enters, wrapped around her palm, gently opening the wet petals. Slowly, demandingly, strongly, and she, having removed her hand, lets him to the full depth. Full fill with hot flesh. Between two male worlds that pierce her entire body with wild energy, rays of primitiveness, like radiation.

No one feels separate, everything is one. With heightened perception, feelings, sensations. Up into the universe, into the round dance of the stars and the climax of the dance is the explosion of this inflorescence, male and female. Flashes, fire, heat, moisture - from two sides, and it dissolves in it, filled with the elixirs of life. Dissolves and swims: