N. Walters - Embroidered Fantasies

Her warrior lowered his head again and caught her clit carefully between his lips and sucked. His brother cupped one breast with his hand, molding the firm flesh and caressing her nipple as he continued to tease the other with his tongue and mouth.

Roxanne floated in a haze of sensual pleasure, her body alive with sensations, each one more intense than the last. Her breath was coming faster with each passing second.

Her skin was slick with perspiration, each nerve ending pulsing, reaching for the explosive culmination at the finish line.

Between her legs, her fantasy warrior touched her, rimming the opening to her channel with his finger before slowly sinking inside. The sensitive inner tissues were swollen and tight. He worked in and out until her body accepted his invasion, softening around his thick, long finger. She wondered what it would feel like to have his hard cock buried in her depths. He would fill her to overflowing.

Then there was no time to think of anything but the pleasure suffusing her. Her warrior began to thrust his finger in and out of her core, quickly adding a second one.

Roxanne arched toward him, wanting more even as her inner muscles pulsed and tightened around him.

His brother lapped at her nipples, switching from one to the other, drawing her deep into his mouth, using his tongue to best advantage.

Pressure built low in her body. She was so close to coming. The fingers pumping in and out of her channel moved faster. He sucked her clit between his lips, drawing hard just as his brother did the same at her breast.

Roxanne screamed as every muscle in her body tightened and released. A flash of heat pulsed through her pussy, bathing her fantasy man’s fingers with her essence. She shook and trembled, her body not her own as her orgasm overtook her.

When she came back to her senses, one brother lay with his head on her breast, lapping lazily at a distended nipple. The other sprawled between her legs, stroking her gently. Her fingers were still tangled in his long hair and she tried to free them without disturbing him. He raised his head from between her thighs and stared at her. His eyes glittered with undisguised lust.

She shivered, not with fear, but with a longing that surprised her. She’d just orgasmed but she wanted more. She wanted her dark warrior. And his brother. What would have shocked and appalled her in her normal life seemed normal in her dream.

Her warrior shifted onto his knees between her spread thighs. His cock jutted out in front of him, enormous and proud. The head was damp and she could see the veins pulsing down the thick shaft. Yet he made no move to impale himself in her.

She wanted to touch him, to feel all that power throbbing against her hands.

Roxanne reached out, but he seemed to be getting farther away rather than closer. She frowned as a noise buzzed in her ears, distracting her. Her warrior lunged toward her, his face fading before her very eyes. She tried to catch his outstretched hand, but met nothing but air.

~

Roxanne sat straight up in bed, a cry of dismay echoing through her small apartment. The alarm of her clock radio blared out at her from the shelf on the bookcase and she scowled at it as she rolled out of bed to shut it off.

She froze and stared down at herself. She was totally naked. Her pants and top were tangled in the sheets next to the tapestry. The light still glowed from her lamp, barely visible with the early morning sunlight streaming in through the window.

“That was some dream.” She raked her fingers through her damp hair and took a deep, calming breath. And that’s all it was.

She grabbed up her clothing and tugged it on before flicking off her alarm. Her body ached and throbbed, reminding her of just how real her dream had been. She’d actually orgasmed in her sleep. Incredible.

Determined to put the dream and the fantasy warrior and his brother out of her mind, she tossed the tapestry onto the back of the living room chair. Getting into her daily routine, she folded her blankets and pulled the davenport back into a sofa, stowing the bedclothes in the storage area beneath it.

That done, she headed to the bathroom. She needed a shower to wash away the effects of the night. It was morning. Time to face reality. There were no warriors to help protect her.

As always, she was on her own.

Roxanne was bone tired. They’d been extra busy at Joe’s today. One of the other waitresses had called in sick and Roxanne had ended up working for twelve hours instead of her regular eight-hour shift. In spite of her sensible shoes, her feet ached. She was hot and sweaty after hustling heavy trays around all day and was ready for a long, relaxing bubble bath. All she had to do was make it through the bus ride and short walk home.

Thankfully, no one was seated next to her. She held her purse in her lap, her body swaying to the rhythm of the bus as it rolled down the city street. Resting her head against the window, she longed to close her eyes but didn’t dare, fearing she’d drift off to sleep and miss her stop.

Raising a hand to her mouth, she stifled a yawn. Her mind drifted and she smiled as a picture of two tall, strong men invaded her thoughts. All day long, she’d been unable to get last night’s dream out of her head. Memories of four strong calloused hands stroking her breasts and between her legs, arousing her to a fevered pitch, occurred at the strangest times during the day, making her flush. Pamela, one of the younger waitresses, had commented on it. Roxanne had passed it off as just the heat from the kitchen.

Her breasts swelled, nipples pushing against the cups of her plain cotton bra. Her pantyhose were confining and hot after all day. She couldn’t wait to strip them off. Her entire body felt sensitized.

Her dark warrior had touched her between her thighs. She swallowed hard as she remembered his phantom touch. Cream coated the crotch of her panties and she squirmed, emitting a low moan that startled her. Heat crept up her cheeks as she straightened in her seat and glanced around. Thankfully, no one was paying her any attention. Everyone was concerned with their own lives.

A sense of loneliness assailed her. She was truly alone in a world of people. She liked the folks she worked with but wasn’t close with any of them. The few friends she’d had, she’d lost touch with after the death of her parents and fiancé and her marriage to Michael.

Roxanne tugged her purse tighter to her body, saddened by what her life had become. It was as much her fault as it was the people she knew. After what had happened in her disastrous marriage, she’d kept people at arm’s length.

No more.

It hit her suddenly that she’d been living in a prison of her own making, keeping herself from truly living as some sort of punishment for having the bad judgment of marrying a man who abused her.

She knew what the counselor she’d seen a few time immediately after she’d filed for divorce would say. Mrs. Dobson had told her over and over that it wasn’t her fault.

That men like Michael were master manipulators, hiding what they truly were until they had a woman isolated. In fact, he’d probably been attracted to her because he sensed her vulnerability.

A cold shiver skated down her spine. She didn’t want to think about Michael. Just knowing he was out there somewhere was enough to give her nightmares.

Unconsciously, she’d been watching for him all day, her eyes flying to the front door of the diner every time the bell had wrung.

No wonder she was exhausted. The strain of knowing her ex was out of prison coupled with the sensual dream and the long work shift had drained her totally. She planned to make it an early night to catch up on her sleep.