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From: Slowhand Luke <slowhand@dial.pipex.com>
Subject: Cyber-Dreams part 2 -NEW
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Cyber-Dreams Part 2
 By Slowhand Luke

*All original material and characters herein copyright 1997 by the
author. All rights reserved by the author.*

More quality erotic fiction by Luke and others including Taria, Summer's
Rose, Kim and Cynthia can be found free at:

http://www.slowhand.com/

********************



Slumped together over the desk, they lay still for a short while,
breathing deeply and enjoying the languid sensual aftermath of pleasure.
Regaining some composure, John began to kiss and nibble gently at the
base of the Beachcomber's neck, sending shivery tendrils of pleasure down
her spine. She moved beneath him and felt his cock stir within her in
response. Squirming, moving herself around him as the dull flame in her
belly flickered back into life, she wondered if he was ready for a
second round - but it was not to be.

With a rude squelching sound, he pulled reluctantly from her, his
softening prick twitching in vain as it attempted to regain its former
glory. She sighed, knowing that it was only rarely that John was
able to maintain an erection beyond the first orgasm - more usually, his
manhood would wilt, becoming hypersensitive, almost too painful to touch.
It was a shame...

Recognising the look in her eyes, John smiled mischeivously. 'Still need
some more, baby?' he asked, already knowing the answer. Without waiting
for her to nod her assent, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her
through to the bedroom. With one arm wrapped around his neck, the
Beachcomber could feel the muscles in his shoulders moving as he walked.
In a sense that she could only think of as silly, his strength and power
were reassuring as well as sexy. She always felt safe in his arms, in an
odd way that had nothing to do with any tangible threat.

Then all rational thought fled as he placed her gently down on the bed
and proceeded to tease her wet sex lovingly with his tongue, coaxing her
toward climax once more as he sipped on a heady cocktail of their mingled
juices. His actions were slower this time, less urgent, and she lay right
back, allowing herself to relax and enjoy the slow building of pleasure.
When she finally came, her breath was released in a drawn out sigh rather
than any kind of exclamation, and Johns lips closed over her labia,
engulfing her sex completely as her orgasm tremored through her body.

Then, reluctantly, he withdrew, lingering before breaking the contact
completely and leaving her to drift slowly back to earth while he dressed
hurriedly for work. By the time he was ready, she had recovered enough to
straighten his tie, and kiss him soundly before shooing him out of the
door.

'Don't work too hard,' he called from the driveway. 'Try to get some air,
and don't forget that we're at Phil and Susie's for dinner tonight!'

She grinned. 'Not very likely,' She shouted back. 'I don't think I need
any memory tips from the man who forgot his own birthday last year, thank
you!'

He grimaced. 'I don't think I'm ever going to be allowed to forget that
one', he said mournfully.

'No,' she agreed, 'probably not. I have to try to get you to remember
something!'

Later, when she was once more on her own, the Beachcomber fell to
wondering about the question of stamina. Why should it be that John was
left high and dry whilst her own pleasure continued unabated. Sometimes
it seemed that after his climax he became no more than an adjunct to her
pleasure. Not that he ever complained ~ it just struck the Beachcomber as
somewhat unfair.

But there had been times ~ a few, glorious times ~ when John's erection
had continued beyond orgasm and he had revelled in the sensation of
moving inside her vagina whilst it was awash with his own seed. Like the
first time she had put on a blue movie as inspiration, for instance. And
at those times the Beachcomber's pleasure had been unending... not just
at the physical sensations of prolonged orgasm, but also at an emotional
level as she took delight in his unfeigned ecstacy, his joy
at being able to match her stroke for stroke, shudder for shudder, gasp
for gasp.

But such occasions were lamentably rare. It should, she reflected, be
like that every time. Then she reconsidered... perhaps not every time, as
it might become boring. Ninety percent of the time would leave room for a
deliciously erotic sense of uncertainty.

Mulling this thought over, she glanced at the clock and realised she had
better get on with some work. Half the day was gone already. She dressed
quickly, throwing on a flared skirt and short t-shirt well suited the
heat of the day. She was tempted not to bother with clothes at all, but
she knew that she would concentrate better with them on than off.

Firing up her PC once more, she resisted the temptation to go back into
the chat room, and forced herself to get on with compiling a series of
reports she would have to present on her return to work.
Boring stuff about long term recruitment and training needs, she livened
it up where possible with coloured graphs and visuals to be used as
overheads. She wished that her work colleagues were a little less stuffy
and conservative, so that she could really go to town on the graphical
side of the presentation, but it was important to keep it 'appropriate'.

When she finally decided enough was enough, she was still quite a way
from finishing. But, she figured, this was supposed to be her vacation,
after all and she had at least made a start.

Purposefully refusing to feel even the slightest flicker of guilt, she
logged on to the net and headed back to the chat room. It was busy this
time - booming, in fact - and she spent several minutes X-ing out all the
people she knew she didn't want to talk to. Two of the names scrolling
down her screen, however, made her break out into a grin, and she quickly
sent a message to her longtime cyber-friends.

     Beachcomber: Hi, Bel! Hi, TJ! How are you both doing? TJ ~ don't
bother replying if your fingers are tied up with someone else (again!)!

Tapping her fingers impatiently on her workstation, she waited for their
responses. TJ, it transpired, was not tied up with anyone, but was open
to offers, and Bel was doing fine... just hanging out and chilling while
fending off (or just plain ignoring) all the PMs from lonely, horny men.
Such as TJ.

That comment provoked a brief row until TJ was convinced Bel had just
been kidding, and then they exchanged small talk and banter for a while
until the Beachcomber got up to fetch a drink. When she returned, TJ and
Bel were bitching about her slow response time... and suggesting that
she had dipped out into PM land for some private cyber-sex. They were
even threatening to leave the room without her. She also noticed that
another friendly face had appeared whilst she was out of the room and was
asking for her.

She grinned and sent her reply.

     Beachcomber:TJ, Bel... don't you two run off & leave me just 'cos
I'm not as FAST as you would like. That's the mistake a lot of guys make!
Hi, Knight! How's things? Listen, I want to talk to you guys... something
on my mind...

Their responses arrived pleasingly quickly.

     Top Jimmy: Hey, don't worry, Beach - we were only kidding! You KNOW
I'll go as slow as you like! *s* What's on your mind, hun?

     Knight: Things are fine with me, Beachcomber... except that I just
discovered I'm not Bel's favourite cyber-lay any more *pout* *lol*

     Bel: What's up, B? Something bugging you?

     Hard8:Don't you want to talk to me, too, Beach? I have the answer to
ALL your problems!  *smirk*

Beachcomber couldn't help laughing. Hard8's persistence was admirable, if
nothing else. She replied:

     Beachcomber: I'm sure you do, Hard, honey... but I wouldn't want to
deprive you of the opportunity to play it with yourself. Why not go and
do that right now?
     TJ, Bel, Knight... It's nothing serious. It's just been on my mind
lately how unfair it is that men don't generally get to have nice long
slow orgasms or to cum more than once in a row like the rest of us. I
wondered if you had any thoughts on that? ... and before you say a word,
Hard, I won't believe anything you say, so don't even bother, ok?

There was a short delay before the replies came. Tj's was the first to
arrive.

     Top Jimmy: Hmm... that's a tricky one, Beach. I can only guess that
we make up for it in intensity? Or am I deluding myself? BTW, have you
ever considered sharing your multi-orgasms with the world in the form of
a wav sound file? *lol*

     Knight: I have been sulking about that ever since I first heard
about multiple orgasms... I blame women's magazines personally. Ididn't
mind them inventing single orgasms for women, but they've gone and put
things all out of balance, now!

     Bel: You having man troubles Beach? Is your lover from the 'roll
over fart & fall asleep' school of afterplay? I think you deserve better,
girl!

     Hard8": I'm hurt, Beachcomber! You don't believe I can cum & keep
right on cumming for over a minute, unleashing endless hot sticky
torrents of sperm... then rest up & start over three minutes later? I can
send you an Mpeg movie file to prove it if you like!

A brief flurry of typing, and the Beachcombers next post was on its way,
and the conversation continued from there.

Beachcomber: TJ... I don't know - I never experienced a male orgasm ;-)
But mine are pretty intense... AND prolonged! (And no, I'm NOT gonna
record them for you, ya perv! :-) ) Knight... what can ya do with the
media, huh? Bel...No, hun - my lover is wonderful... perfect (?)... he
leaves me surfing on waves of pleasure, and gasping for him to stop. I
would just like to be able to produce the same reaction in him.... watch
HIS face as he rolls around in helpless ecstacy for minutes on end... and
then be able to start him all over again. Is that too much to ask? *lol*

Top Jimmy: Beach... wish I could let you know just EXACTLY how good an
orgasm feels for a guy... but on the other hand, the idea of you having
me helpless with pleasure for some time is also pretty appealing :-) PS
No, Brad - I'm straight, ok?

Hard 8": So you want this movie or not, Beachcomber? I can go fetch the
video camera now... all I'd need would be for you to provide a little
inspiration...

Knight:OH, Beach! You ever learn how to do that and I'm yours for life!!!

Bel: Hmmmm, I don't think you're gonna get that from a man,
beachcomber... perhaps you need to experiment a little? Where's Tina when
you need her, huh? Hard8 - I really don't think Beach, or anyone else
(except maybe Brad) is interested... so here's a little inspiration (or
at least a suggestion) for you - why not GO FUCK YOURSELF!!!???

Beachcomber:*lol* Thanks, Bel - I couldn't have put it better myself!

Top Jimmy: Yeah, Brad... give Hard8 a go! I'm sure HE'LL oblige you...

Beachcomber:TJ... yes, I really would like to know how it feels for you
guys, but I guess I never will. Knight... you're mine for life anytime I
want you, anyhow hun ;-). Bel..... mmmm, interesting suggestion, but I
don't know that I'm ready for all that... I'd miss the feel of a nice
warm cock in my hand.... and other places. Besides, it's one person in
particular I have in mind, and he's a man... My man!

Brad:So how about it, Hard8? Do you have any idea how good it feels to be
sucked off by another guy, who KNOWS how good it feels to have a soft
tongue slide over your glans while a warm palm cradles your balls? Are
you man enough to cope with ME? I don't think so...

This taunt unleashed a rabid torrent of homophobia, in the course of
which the Beachcomber learned a few new and interesting ways to mix 'n'
match profanitites. Then all went silent as Hard8 fled the room, fearing,
no doubt, for his innocence. The Beachcomber thought it was strange that
someone so fascinated with other people's asses should be so violently
protective of his own.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as the Beachcomber chatted idly
with her friends, and played at teasing some of the men. She half hoped
that Don Juan would reappear, but he did not and she caught herself on
the verge of feeling disappointment when she finally heard John's key
turn in the front door. This time, at least, she was not too distracted
to notice his arrival.

'Hi lover,' he grinned as he strolled into the room. 'How was your day?'
He peered at the computer screen, then switched his attention back to her
face. 'Have you been on that thing all day?' he asked.

'Most of it, I guess,' she replied airily.

'And you've not been outside at all?'

'Uh-uh'

'That's very bad of you, you know,' he said, putting on his 'stern'
voice. The Beachcomber smiled inwardly as she recognised the tone, but
was careful to hide her laughter as she bit her lip in
apparent concern.

I'm sorry, baby,' she said, 'but I was so lonely here without you...'

'That's all very well,' he said, 'but you know this vacation was supposed
to be for you to relax and look after your health... I think that if you
are forgetting to do so, I may have to punish you a little to help you
remember. For your own good, of course.'

'P-punish?' She said, her eyes wide and her little-girl stammer artfully
contrived.

'Yes. I think I am going to have to spank you,' John pronounced solemly,
in the same voice he probably used to announce a drop in the company
share price.

Suddenly, the Beachcomber grinned and leapt up out of her chair and made
a dash for the doorway. 'Well you're gonna have to catch me first,
Mister!' she exclaimed, then slammed the door behind her as with a whoop,
John dropped his briefcase and made chase.

The house was large enough to run in circles without crashing into each
other, and they were both red faced and panting by the time he cornered
her in the lounge. Grabbing a large blue cushion from the sofa, she shook
it threatingly as he approached, his arms spread wide to prevent her from
dodging past to renew the chase. As he moved into range, she swung hard,
bouncing the cushion of his head. He staggered back slightly and she
swung again, pressing home her advantage as he tried to shield himself
with his arms. Then, on her third swing, just as she had almost enough
space to get past him, the cushion burst, showering the room with a cloud
of small, blue-dyed feathers. She hit him again, both of them laughing by
now, but her weapon had gone decidedly limp after its explosion, and he
warded it off easily and grabbed her by both arms. 'Now,' he said
melodramatically, 'Now you are mine!'

With that, he sat immediately on the sofa, ignoring the platoon of
feathers that took flight once more around him, and threw her
unceremoniously across his lap. The Beachcomber shrieked and kicked
her legs, laughing as she tried to break free.Before she could do so,
John managed to land three or four wildly aimed slaps on her buttocks
with the palm of his right hand. They were swift, and more
teasing than painful, but even so the Beachcomber felt the padded flesh
of her behind quiver resiliently in response. When she finally managed to
squirm out of his grasp, evading the fifth blow completely, her skin was
tingling with heightened sensitivity, and she could feel the shape of his
hand almost as clearly as if it had been imprinted on her bottom.

Even though she had rather enjoyed the physical sensations of being
spanked, she was not about to let John off lightly for the humiliation of
the assualt. Grinning victoriously, she turned and sped away once more,
leaving John to fumble around adjusting the set of his suddenly bulging
crotch. This time, she had a specific destination in mind, and by the
time he caught up with her in the kitchen she was armed and ready for
him.

He rounded the corner into the kitchen at top speed, and found himself
face to face with the nozzle of the plant sprayer that had caused so much
aggravation in the Garden Centre the month before. It was, he thought as
he waited for the inevitable blast of cold water, ironic that she had
been the one insisting that he only wanted the top of the range
battery-powered model as some kind of toy.

For a second nothing happened, and he wondered whether she might perhaps
have forgiven him or - heaven forbid - decided to be sensible about the
whole thing. Then her eyes narrowed and time almost seemed to stop as she
squeezed the trigger in agonising slow-motion. What spurted from the
nozzle, however, was not water but some kind of foam, and it arced
towards him with all the graceful unstoppability of a New England
Linebacker. The first blast took him square in the chest, ruining his
shirt and splashing up underneath his chin. Reality surged back, at full
speed and he turned to run, hoping to escape further punishment. It was
not to be, however. A treacherous puddle of foam pooled around his foot,
pulling it out from underneath him as he took his first step.

A brief sail through the air later, he landed in an undignified heap face
down on the floor. About a nanosecond after that, his lover landed
heavily on top of him, sitting astride his hips and laughing
hysterically, the foam still spraying out of control, soaking them both
to the skin. With an effort, he twisted beneath her, rolling face up and
trying to fend off the spray with his hands.

The Beachcomber grinned. John was wriggling, squirming underneath her,
and the almost incidental grinding of their hips together made her damp
in a way that had nothing to do with the foam. When her vulva bumped and
rubbed over a cock that was unmistakeably hard, a sudden jolt of lust
arrowed tinglingly along the length of her spine. Throwing the plant
spray carelessly to one side she bent forward, her hands going to the
buttons of his shirt

'Let's get these wet things off you,' she muttered half to herself as she
pulled his shirt open. His hands went almost automatically to her
breasts, caressing and squeezing them through the clingy wet fabric of
her t-shirt and rubbing his thumbs repeatedly over her protrudingly erect
nipples. She moved backwards, divesting him of his pants, then sat up,
unclipped her skirt and pulled the shirt over her head, enjoying the look
on his eyes as her breasts bounced happily into view. She leaned
forward to slide them through the small cushion of foam that had
collected on his belly, brushing her nipples lightly over his slippery
skin and her face fell forward against his chest. Not wanting to open
her mouth in case she got foam in it, she moved her chin caressingly over
his flesh, pressing down quite firmly into the twin muscular pads of his
pecs.

He touched her arm, brushing off a stray patch of foam and gently
massaging it into her shoulder.

'MMMM, ' she breathed, 'feels nice.'

'I know,' he said just a little smugly. Then he glanced around at the
flooded lino. 'What did you put in that thing, anyhow?'

'It's a secret,' she wrinkled her nose at him, then laughed. 'Bubble
bath, if you must know. Works great, doesn't it?'

'Let's see,' he scooped some up and planted it on her ass, smoothing it
into the skin, kneading her flesh and slapping lightly, awakening the
memory of his earlier blows and making her shiver. His fingers dipped
into the valley between her buttocks, and slid down until they brushed
tantalisingly against the lower folds of her labia. She shifted her hips
forwards and up, to give him more room, and felt herself being spread
gently open. For an instant she was achingly aware of his cock head
just inches away from her own gaping sex, then she was lowering herself
onto it, engulfing him, accepting him deep within her body. She seemed to
feel every ridge and vein on his shaft pass one at a time through her
lips, and she was dully aware of her tightly gripping walls relaxing and
opening to him, her juices flowing down over his shaft to mingle with the
foam on his belly.

Then he was inside her completely, and she ground her hips down against
his, feeling her clit bumping up against his pubic bone, and his fingers
still gripping her ass. Reaching up to pinch her nipples, knowing he was
watching her do it, she began to ride him, humping her hips not up and
down, but back and forth, so that his shaft pressed back and forth
against her innner walls, even as a few scant centimeters were drawn out
and then slammed back inside. A wave of heat rose up through her body and
she looked down through heavy lidded eyes to see his face contort in
agony or ecsatcy. He reached for her breasts and she surrendered them to
him, covering one of his hands with her own, but leaving the other to do
as it wished as she reached downwards to rub her clit in ecstatic circles
whilst increasing the range of motion of her hips, riding up and down his
shaft in long smooth strokes. and feeling her orgasm approaching fast.

He caught her mood and began thrusting with his hips, bucking upwards to
meet her on the way down, his hands pinching and twisting roughly on her
nipples. With a cry, she came, hurling herself down on him and kissing
him deeply as the tremors racked through her body. He grabbed her hips
and continued to pump his cock inside her as wave after wave of pleasure
flooded her senses. His groans told her that he was also close and,
surprising him a little, she lifted herself suddenly off his cock, and
crouched between his highs, pressing her tongue firmly against the
underside of his shaft.

Wrapping her fingers around the upper half of it, she began to stroke him
with the same rhythm they had been sharing. His eyes flew open and his
hands clutched helplessly at the air, his hips moving moving completely
out of control as she clearly felt the pulse of his orgasm travel past
the location of her tongue. His seed shot out in four staccato bursts,
landing on his chest, his stomache and even, in one particularly
impressive spurt, on his forehead. He pulsed once more, with considerably
less force and a little sperm tricked down his shaft onto her tongue. She
rose up between his thighs and straddled him, enjoying the slick feel of
his skin against her still tingling sex as she kissed him once
more.

He sat up looking slightly dazed and glanced around at the mess on the
floor.

'I know,' she said, 'we should clean up.'

'Uh, not just yet, hun' he murmered. 'We still have to get ready to go
out, remember?'

END OF PART TWO
*****************

More erotic fiction... blah blah blah - you know all this already, don't
you?

Anyway, visit http:/www.slowhand.com/  It's really good.  And free.  No,
really, I mean it.

If you have enjoyed this story so far, please let me know by emailing me
at slowhand@dial.pipex.com , and try to inspire me to write the next
installment.


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