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Annie's Dream

Annie enjoys her sexy, erotic encounter, is she dreaming?
Annie steps off the bus and sighs gratefully as she makes her way towards the iron gate leading to her home. Another stressful day at the office is thankfully over.

She reaches into her pocket and finds her doorkey, along with a receipt for today's lunch.

'Oh, that reminds me... what do I have in the house to cook for dinner?' Annie murmurs to herself.

She lets herself in and locks the door, putting the key on the tray on the hall table.

Hanging her coat up, she heads to the bedroom to change from her office clothes into something more comfortable.

She slips off her black court shoes, unbuttons her crisp, white blouse and puts it in the laundry basket. Her grey pencil skirt is next and is put on its hanger for tomorrow. Her
tights are also removed, a fingernail catches in the flimsy material, resulting in a ladder.

In frustration, Annie scrunches the ruined tights into a ball and launches it at the waste bin.

Turning around, she catches sight of herself in her full length mirror.

'Not bad... not bad at all for a woman in her early forties!' she thinks, her eyes looking over her full figure.

Her long blonde, curly hair flows down and rests on her shoulders, overflowing onto her breasts, covering her little buds. She quickly flicks her hair onto her back, revealing her assets in all their glory.

Her hand wanders downwards and finds the piercing in her belly button. She plays with the diamante stones and her fingers mover farther down towards her secret place.

Annie suddenly feels a cool chill in her bedroom and checks the window to make sure it's closed properly. A quick feel of the radiator confirms the central heating timer is working, although a heat felt within her is making itself known.

She puts her robe on for warmth and puts her favourite CD on the stereo, relaxing sounds are soon mellowing her mood.

She sits down on her bed and stretches out, limbering up her tired bones.

Soon, she is drifting off into a quiet slumber. Occasionally, she stirs at the odd creaking sound that old houses are notorious for. Many times, she has thought she heard the sounds of someone moving around, in the kitchen, in the lounge and in the bedroom. All when she wouldn't expect someone to be home.

She slips further and further into slumber. Her mind is wandering to a different time and place... seeing the horses she used to ride growing up... her hair whipping around her face when cantering on a summers day long ago ...

Suddenly, Annie hears the bedroom door squeak open.

'Hmm, I must get that door seen to... ' she thinks but is too dreamy and relaxed to actually do anything about it.

The faint smell of a man's aftershave, combined with a hint of male sweat, wafts by her nostrils.

"Be still, my love... let me take good care of you darling Annie!"

Annie tries to respond, a cool finger presses to her lips, encouraging her silence.

He traces the imaginary line from her ear down to her neck with his finger. She shivers at the light touch and feels the bed dip, accommodating his weight on the bed beside her.

He kisses her tenderly, soft kisses reaching to her breast. He cups his hand on one breast and squeezes it softly. Her rosebud is showing its peak and he licks and nibbles it into submission. The other breast receives his attention too, making them stand to attention, like little antennae.

She moans softly, the wetness of his tongue sending little electric shocks through her. His hand trailing slowly downwards finding her special place. He explores her opening, immediately gaining entry through her protective lips.

Annie's sex button wakes up at his touch. He strokes the hard bud back and forth and swirls the tip of his finger in little circles on the peak of her womanhood. She breathes heavily and moves her hips to the rhythm his finger is making. Her clit is throbbing with need for relief. Her vaginal muscles are contracting and producing her nectar, lubricating her, making her want more from him.

"Oh fuck me... fuck me now!" Annie begs for release.

He continues to finger fuck her until her secret place is a puddle with feminine moisture. The waves of impending climax are building up to a crescendo inside her.

"Please... Oh I need fucked hard... now!" Annie pleads for mercy from this delicious onslaught on her most intimate treasure.

He promptly turns her on her stomach, raising her hips up to meet his stiff erection. Using his finger as before, he rims her anal hole, ensuring she is ready for him. She is soaking wet and purring like a kitten, clinging to her bedsheet, desperate to feel him inside her. His hard maleness probes the anal entrance, gently he probes further into her. She squeals and leans back, pressing herself further onto his pole.

He grips her hips, thrusting hard, almost savagely taking her. She squeals even more, louder than before, eagerly accepting his rigid shaft. They both move, together, lost in sheer lust. The moment overtakes them. The sensations override the wanting to carry on, enjoying each other.

Annie feels herself letting go... her clit is contracting, allowing climax after climax. He releases his pent up desire in a series of thrusts. Two hard thrusts later and he's shot his load into her, like a machine gun finally letting go of its ammunition. Seconds later and totally spent, they flop down and lie entwined in each other's arms.

"I love you, Annie, I want to stay like this forever, loving each other and making love every night!" He says softly in her ear.

Annie murmurs into his chest, "I love you too!"

Minutes later, Annie feels a kiss on her cheek and the bed rises up acknowledging his departure. A cool breeze breeze gently caresses her tingling skin. Sighing contentedly, she decides to get up to take a shower. On the way, she passes a photo of a handsome soldier, taking pride of place beside her jewellery box on her dressing table.

Annie looks at the picture, forlornly. "Tom, sweetheart, I miss you so much... I love you and I always will."

Annie enters her bathroom and turns on the shower, the water flowing through her extended hand, ensuring just the right temperature.

She steps in and soaks her hair under the showerhead, thinking of her sensual experience. She feels drained but happy and fulfilled. She knows Tom's dead, been dead five years now. But that dream. It was so real. It was like having Tom there in bed beside her, making love to her. Just like he used to, before that awful accident that took him way from her.

The warm water cascades down her back, washing away any residue reminder from her encounter.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, the handsome man in the photo, winks and blows a kiss ....

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © © December.2013 MistyStar

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