Message-ID: <4319eli$9709241004@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: zanna@whoever.com (Joyce Melton & Morgan Preece) Subject: Repost: Mercedes 4: Dream Girl {Morgan Preece} /C*R* 10/10/10/ Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <343eeb39.20402220@news.gte.net> This story is intended for the entertainment of adults only. If you are under 18, please stop reading immediately. If you are offended by strong adult-oriented themes, explicit sex, erotic fantasy or vulgar language, what are you doing here? Copyright (c) 1996 by Morgan Preece Mercedes by Morgan Preece Chapter IV Erotic visions filled my dreams. Odd, I thought, in one of those lucid moments one has while dreaming, usually I dream of spending someone else's money, driving fast cars and having expensive things. But normally I get plenty of sex while I am awake. I dreamed of undressing Sylvia. She lay face down on a blue satin coverlet on a wide, wide bed, wearing a tight-skirted evening dress of red, red velvet. Black stockings with seams up the back ended in nine-inch platform heels as crimson as her gown. Arms at her sides, her fingers curled against her palms, red, red nails against the white flesh. Tenderly I lifted the mass of chestnut hair that seemed longer and fuller than it had been in life, enough red-gold strands to drown a man. I played with her hair for a moment, running it carressingly through my fingers, tickling her bared shoulders with the ends. Her earrings glinted gold on the blue coverlet, each hoop bigger than my hand. A choker of black and red lace with rhinestones encircled her throat, closed at the back of her neck with a pretty bow. Under the hair, a tiny, black enameled catch secured the top of the evening dress's zipper. Fumbling a little, I undid the catch and slipped the zipper down to where her hips flared so beautifully into the roundness of her ass. My dream self wandered into reveries of round, round bottoms I have known. My loins ached with remembrance as I pulled myself back to the presence of Sylvia. Pulling the dress open I saw the laces of her corset. Satiny pink with a lacy white overlay, the cruel little undergarment had squeezed her waist impossibly narrow, barely half the measure of her full hips. Little bows adorned the knots holding the corset tight, for each little corset lace ended in a length of pink ribbon. I bent my face to rub my cheeks and lips against the soft femininity of the ribbon bows. My fingers on the corset sensed the spring-steel stays inside the erotic fabric. Her back, bowed by the steel, thrust her buttocks upward toward me. Sliding the zipper lower revealed the bottom edge of the corset and the cleavage of her ass. Red garters from a thin white and red garter belt around her full hips just below the corset disappeared into the dress. Two globes of white flesh peeked from the unzippered gown like enormous misplaced breasts. I placed the tip of my tongue in the top of that cleavage and traced her delicate spine from the bump of her coccyx to the edge of the corset. The pleasured flesh trembled in its bondage. My mind reeled and back and forth, replaying the lick and shiver until my gonads wanted to scream. In the dream, I moved to turn her over. She did nothing overt to help or hinder the action, but her body was neither limply compliant nor rigidly resistant. Face up, her magnificent body revealed itself anew. I dreamed that I stared at her as I had not stared in the bar. I wanted the dream Sylvia more than I had wanted the dream of her money. The unzipped dress pulled down easily to her waist, the heavy velvet richly exotic in my hands. The abundance of her revealed breasts emerging from the top of her corset echoed the second cleavage she had displayed from behind. Pressed from the sides and below by the corset, constrained by their satiny jailer, her globes bulged roundly on her chest. Brown aureoles bigger than coasters showed half-rounds above the corset and saucy nipples, redder than brown, peeped from the pretty prison. I bent to tease the prisoners with the tip of my tongue and found them already hardened by their captivity. I tasted their delicate torture, delicious in its willing submission. With my dreaming eyes seeming so near the pillar of her throat, I saw that paste gems, red, green, blue and white decorated the front of the choker. Paste surely, for no one would wear real gems of that size, so perfectly matched, except in a dream. Realizing again that so I did dream, I lifted my gaze to her face. Pale green lids closed her eyes and thick black lashes locked them closed. Black brows arched like Parisian monuments on her marble forehead. A blush like virgin spring touched the winter of her cheeks. Her half-open lips, as velvet red as her gown, revealed two rows of white teeth with the tip of a carnelian tongue trapped between them. Lifting my face to hers, I prised my tongue through the soft gates of her lips. Her teeth parted and her tongue tasted cool and sweet against mine. We dueled sweetly for a time and I felt the blood rushing to engorge her lips as we bruised our passions against each other. I felt my own blood move in my dram body, the heat of it went to my head and my loins. The intensity and vividness of the dream shocked me. It seemed more real than reality. Sylvia's lush body now stretched before me like an erotic landscape, the forest of her hair, the mountains of her breasts.... Now she receded from me like a television special effect, a reverse zoom that left her a doll-thing on a satin pillow.... Now her smell, of musk and strawberries, of spice and woman rushed to my head like a drink of some strong liquor. A fantastic cocktail of desire, in my dream Sylvia seemed to "woman" what a jigger of Glenlivet is to "malt." I pulled the velvet gown down around her thighs. The corset, seen from the front, seemed no less cruel. The steel stays in their lacy satin wrapper reduced her waist, flattened her tummy and constricted her breasts into a lovely shape like a figure study by Hogarth, all round globes and conical sections. A pure erotic shape with a strength not found in mere cheesecake. I saw that she did not, could not lie flat upon the bed for the corset forced her back into an arch. She rested on her shoulders and neck and the full roundness of her buttocks and thighs. The slenderness of her waist hung suspended, a bridge above the blue satin sea of the coverlet. I could put my fingers under her back, almost touching behind her while my thumbs nearly met in front. I held her this way for a timeless time, dreaming of desire and possession. Her still closed eyes moved beneath their lids, she seemed to sleep within my dream. What filled her dreams I wondered. Her swollen lips made a circle of pouting astonishment, like a cheerleader surprised in the football team's locker room. The delicately lacy front of the corset came to a pink and white rounded point below her navel, a signpost directing my gaze toward her mystery. The tortuous web of steel spines, rings and leather laces that she had made of her cunt lay half-hidden in the cleft between her legs. The bend of her back caused by the corset and the binding of the velvet gown around her thighs left the secret places in shadow. The garters from the garter belt were fastened to the tops of black silk hose high on her thighs. I dreamed of burying my face in the flesh where the silk and leather and steel converged and dreamed that I did. The pleasant scent of her unseen vagina nearly overwhelmed my dream self. Aching with smell of her flesh, I nuzzled the steel knob at the top of her chastity knot with my chin and the body below me stiffened, once. Standing in my dream beside the bed, I pulled the velvet gown to her knees. Her thighs clenched and an audible sigh escaped her still open mouth but her eyes remained closed. Things seemed to be moving faster now. Kneeling next to her, I lifted the bound legs and freed them from their velvet bindings, slipping the gown over the high, high heels. Her toe nails were painted the same ruby red color as the gown, her shoes, her lips. Encased in dark silk, her legs tapered from full, womanly thighs, to dimpled knees, down to rounded calves and smooth, slender ankles trapped in the lacings of her platform sandals. Her feet, high-arched, glamorised by the sandals, shaped into symbols of desire, yearned to be pleasured by the touch of loving hands and lips. Dreaming of desire for Sylvia, lusting for possession of every detail of her hallucinatory beauty, wanting her body, I reached to lift her long, long legs. Her spreading thighs revealed again her mystery, the net of steel and lace at the center of her being. The half-moons of her round bottom showed below her legs and a smile flickered around her lips. Shuddering release threatened as I dreamed of being between her thighs. With one hand I lifted her left leg higher, rolling her weight to one side and onto her shoulders. With my other hand I reached for my throbbing manhood to plunge it into her round pink ass. Her smile widened and her eyes opened, gold-green irises sleepy with dreaming sex. I woke suddenly, terrified. My dream hand had found nothing where my cock should have been. (to be continued) -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /