somewhat of a long story im going to try my best to stay away from incest for awhile
“Oh my God,” I whisper as I feel the wetness of his tongue as he dips it into my navel. I feel myself grow wetter in anticipation of just where he's going to put that tongue next. I try to open my eyes, but I can still see nothing. Either the lights are out, or I'm blindfolded; I can't be entirely sure what. I can only feel his hands as they gently push my thighs further apart, and his glorious tongue as it slips from between his teeth and into my warm, wet pussy. A few licks later, and he's tracing it along my clit. I whip my head from side to side, silently begging him for more, ever more.
“There will always be more,” he coos, his voice deep. It seems to resonate from him and into my very core, drawing a slight gasp from me. “Always,” he adds for emphasis before again burying his face between my legs and forcing his tongue deeper inside me than ever.
“Liar,” I groan in anger as I feel myself torn away from him yet again. The sensations that felt so real soon dissolve into the feelings of my comforter and sheets as I realize yet again that it is morning, and that my lover doesn't exist. I shift slightly from my position on the bed; the same one as in the dream: lying on my back, legs spread apart, and my arms folded neatly by my head. The only difference is that there's no man tonsil-deep in my pussy.
As I move my leg, I feel something cold and wet in the bed. I toss away the comforter to find a decent-sized wet spot soaked into the bed. Crap, I think to myself, I pissed the bed. Curious I touch the spot; it's still soaked, so it's fairly recent. Remembering that I don't sleep in underwear, I remove my finger from the wet spot and touch the outer lips of my pussy: they're soaked. I insert them a little further, just to the outside of my vagina. It's still incredibly wet; as I brush my clit, I let out a gasp. It's incredibly sensitive this morning.
“Little too old for wet dreams,” I mutter as I reach over to my nightstand and slide the cheap wooden drawer open. Inside is my velvet box with the lock on it which I never bother to lock, considering the fact that I've been opening it almost daily since I began having these dreams. I dig through the tiny bottles of lubricant to find my favorite tool for this kind of job: my blue vibrator. I pull the batteries from the bottom of the drawer and insert them into it. I almost reach for my favorite lube, a strawberry-scented one, but decide that it isn't necessary considering how wet I already am.
I close my eyes as I slide the buzzing vibrator between my breasts and down my stomach, trying to mimic the actions of the man I screw every night in my dreams. It feels good, but is boring in comparison to him. I breathe heavily as I push it between my lips. I press the tip of it against my clit, though it only makes me gasp and makes me even wetter. Deciding to end the torture, I thrust it into my pussy without any of the gentle intimacy of the man. I push it further and further inside me, burying my feet into the soft pillowtop mattress and biting my lip. My pussy tightens and the sensations become sharper. After a few seconds I orgasm, soaking my poor, abused bedding even more than it was. I lie in bed for a few more seconds before deciding that I need to do some laundry.
I slide out of bed, resting my trusty vibe on the nightstand. I don't close the drawer as I head over to my dresser. Feeling lazy, I pull a short summer dress. I also grab a pair of panties and my cutest lacy bra out of the drawer. I pull off my pajama shirt and toss it onto the floor. I slide on the panties as I walk over to my vanity mirror. I look at myself; I truly look like I just had a really good fuck. My raven hair is sticking out in every direction and I have that cheesy-romance-novel look on my round, pale face. I don't take my eyes off myself as I wrap the bra around my ribs, hooking it into place. I twist it around and pull the cups up over my medium-sized round breasts. I then pull the dress on and seat myself at the small glass table. I work a brush through my hair and when I decide that I look decent, I wad up my bedding in a ball that reeks of sex. Slightly embarrassed, I plop it into a basket and grab my car keys as I exit my small apartment. I throw the basket into my car and drive as fast as I can to the laundromat.
I start popping quarters into a laundry machine when a stranger catches my eye. I turn from the machine as I realize that he's watching me. Normally I'd be creeped out by now, but something about him entices me. I smile shyly and turn back to the machine. I'm just about to grab my blankets when I realize that he's standing behind me. I turn around and he presses my back into the large washer. I let out a gasp as he pushes himself onto me, his face less than an inch from mine.
My eyes widen in surprise as he grips me by my shoulders. I should be frightened, I know; but to be honest, something about the stranger is making me incredibly wet.
“I know you,” I mutter in astonishment as I stare up into the man's electric blue eyes. His blonde, nearly-white hair falls over his face and gently brushes my forehead. His skin isn't necessarily tan, but he contrasts the milky white of my skin well. He seems to be only a few years older than I am. Lean muscle makes up his mass; he isn't big, but I can tell that he's strong. He's at least six inches taller than me.
“You should,” he replies, his voice sending shivers down my spine. I know that I've heard it before.
I try to avoid the awkward explanation of how I've seen him in my sexual dreams. “Did we go to school together?” I ask, swallowing air as he lowers his head closer to me. I've only been out of high school for a year now, so it's a possibility that he was.
His face touches mine and his lips brush my cheek. I feel incredibly hot, but I don't know if it's from his body heat or from how turned on I am right now.
“Do you live in my apartment complex?” I ask, my voice fading into a whisper as his lips press against my ear. He raises one hand from my shoulder and brushes the hair away from my neck. I feel his teeth give my lobe a gentle pinch before he leaves a trail of kisses from just behind my ear to my neck.
“No more questions,” he mumbles as he nibbles on my neck. His left hand slides from my shoulder and runs across my breast. I inhale as he slides his fingers under it and cups it, squeezing it slightly. He then slides it down even further until his hand is on my hip. He trails his hand behind me, touching my butt before sliding it down my thigh. He brushes the hem of my skirt and I gasp as he begins to pull it up.
“What--” I begin to ask.
“I said, no more questions,” he growls as I feel a jolt inside me. My breath comes in short rasps as I recover from whatever it was that just happened. I can feel another wet sensation as I soak through my panties. Did I just cum?
“I'm going to take you here and now,” he mutters in my ear, “and you want me to.”
I almost mutter out in protest before realizing that I do want him to. Here I am, a virginal 19-year-old with a tendency for wet dreams and an addiction to masturbation, and I want a random stranger to fuck me in a laundromat. I think back to all of my ideas about how my first time would be: with someone I love, in a bed of roses with candles. Not with someone whose name I don't even know, pressed up against an industrial washer with a handful of quarters and my stained sheets in a basket by my feet. But as I try to think of how I should be doing it right, I can think of nothing but this man holding me now, his hard body pinning me against a machine, his hand ever-so-slowly pushing my floral dress up my thigh. What is happening here and now seems to be the perfect way to do this.
I look down and realize that he already has my dress over my belly button. I look in both directions, horrified that someone would see us. Alas, there's no one in the laundromat except for the two of us. I look up to find all four of the cameras poised in the corners of the room are hanging by thin wires, completely disabled. I then turn to look at the glass-windowed wall of the establishment that faces the street: the cheap blinds are all drawn and the sign on the door has been changed so that it reads “closed” from the outside. I can see a set of keys in the doorknob that tell me it's locked.
“It's only us,” he whispers into my ear as he tugs the dress over my breasts.
“Only us,” I whisper as I tilt my head back and close my eyes. It seems to be such a wonderful thought.
I raise my hands as he yanks the dress over my head and tosses it into a nearby laundry cart. He seems to back up a step, admiring me. Normally I would feel shy, but I simply lower my arms to my sides and gaze at him in wonder as he drags his gaze from my feet to my face, lingering in between. I admire him as well. He's wearing a white-collared button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His pants aren't necessarily tight, but they fit him close, enough to make me flush when I notice a bulge where his legs meet his torso.
I feel no inhibitions as I reach my arms out to touch his chest. I can feel the hard muscles underneath. I release one of the milky white buttons from its hole before setting to work on another. He simply watches me as I unbutton his shirt. I seem to work in a blur and before I know it, I'm pulling the bottom of his shirt from his trousers. He shrugs out of it as I finally free it from him.
“You like this,” he says. It isn't a question.
“Yes,” I sigh, immediately turned on by this man shirtless. Hundreds of characters in a language I've never seen are tattooed onto his chest and torso.
He lowers his gaze from my face to my chest. He looks at my bra as though it's an obstacle in his way. He reaches his hands out and clutches the thin band connecting the two cups. He pulls and my bra strains uncomfortably, but then I feel a snap and it releases me. He pulls it away and I see that the band has been broken. He tosses it where he threw my dress.
One more to go, I say in my mind. He stares at my exposed bosoms for a while before lowering his gaze to my only remaining article of clothing: my panties. I feel them become more soaked as he focuses his attention on them. He trails one finger from my bellybutton to the band of my underwear. He slips it underneath the band and pulls them down. They obediently follow his finger as he pulls them away from my pussy and down my thighs to the floor. I step out of them and he simply kicks them out of the way. I now stand naked before him, but am still unafraid. “You're beautiful,” he rasps before his hands leave me to begin removing his pants. I watch his hands as he undoes the button and pulls the zipper down. The trousers drop and he steps out of them. In a blur his underwear are on the ground, and we stand before each other, completely naked. I'm unable to look away from his huge erection.
Without thinking, I reach out and touch it, my fingers just brushing the head. I trail my fingers down the length of it, admiring it. I can hear a slight irregularity in his voice at the action, so I wrap my hand around it and squeeze it gently. I slide my hand up and down it, enjoying my exploration of his sex. For the first time in the day, I feel in control.
Just as I get comfortable pleasuring him, he loses his patience and grabs me by the waist. He pulls me away from the row of laundry machines and I drop both of my flip flops as he drags me. He takes me to a folding table and bends me over it.
At first he just stands there and I lean over the table, in awe of the dominance he shows. He presses his hips into mine, his hard dick slipping between my legs, just barely brushing my lips. He rubs his hands along my back to my sides and then grips my breasts firmly, squeezing my already-hard nipples. I moan softly at the warmth in his hands and the tiny ripples of pain that his squeezing induces.
He rocks his hips forward and back, dragging his dick along my pussy lips, teasing me. I try to reach my hands back, to guide him into my waiting pussy, but as soon as I move them, he releases his hold on my breasts to pin my hands to the table. From nowhere he holds out my soaked panties and pushes my hands through the leg hole. He then wraps it around my wrists and binds them so that my arms rest on the table straight out in front of me.
“You don't move,” he scolds gently, continuing his torture of my desperate womanhood. I shake my head in understanding and moan as he again resumes his ravishing of my breasts. He removes one hand from my breast and slides it between my legs. I wonder for a second if he's going to finger me, but he instead clutches his dick and positions it just outside of my pussy. He gently slides it in and I begin to moan as I take his large manhood.
I expect to feel pain as he enters me, but I then remember that I experienced that pain on the first night of my adventures with a vibrator. After it hurt so much that first day, I vowed I would never penetrate myself again. The next night I tried again, and it felt so good that I splurged on the expensive vibrator I use now.
As he slides further into me, I stop thinking about masturbating. Nothing I could do to myself could ever amount to the fuck I'm getting now. As soon as his enormous dick fills most of me, he pulls out. I'm about to complain when he forces it into me again, hard and fast. I gasp and a moan escapes my throat as my knees buckle and I'm pushed further into the table. He repeats the motion, going faster and pushing harder with each stroke. I feel the vein in his dick throb and it's incredible as my tight pussy constricts itself around it, welcoming it like a warm, wet embrace with each thrust.
“You're him,” I scream as I feel a wave of ecstasy coming on. “You have to be.”
He says nothing for a few seconds, but groans as he feels that he's about to come, too. “Always,” he promises through gritted teeth.
“I didn't think you existed,” I gasp as my pussy constricts more and more around him. “I've only seen you in my dreams until,” I scream as I begin to come, “now!”
He explodes deep inside me and I orgasm as a result. He continues to pound me against the table until I can feel him becoming limp inside me. I come again and again even after he is finished. Even after he pulls out, I continue to orgasm, the feeling never subsiding.
“Why?” is all that I manage to ask before another orgasm sweeps through me.
“You belong to me,” he whispers as he steps away from me, leaving me bent over the table. I continue to orgasm and my cum drips from my pussy down to my legs. I can feel his dripping from me as well. There's a shuffle and then a zipping noise as he puts on his underwear and trousers again. I can feel myself losing consciousness, each orgasm both bringing me both to new heights and dragging me away from reality.
“What is happening?” I ask as I gasp between orgasms.
“I control you,” he explains as he steps in front of the table so that I'm facing him. He has his shirt buttoned halfway up now. “Your dreams, your body, your desire. I don't even have to touch you to pleasure you.”
“How--?” I begin to ask as he smirks and another orgasm overcomes me. The cum drips onto the scratched linoleum and I feel dominated. I feel like I'm going to pass out.
“I'll be in your dreams,” he states as he walks back around the table and stands next to me. He flips me over so that I'm lying on the table instead of being bent over it. He places his hands on my cheeks and kisses me gently, tenderly. I begin to slip away from consciousness as the final orgasm dominates me. My world goes black, but for a few seconds I can still hear him speaking. “I'll be here when you're awake, too. I'll be wherever you are. Always.”
this is it untill i see the need for another story :)