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Fantasy Fuck


All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.

Breakfast is over...your husband is off to work, and the
kids have left for school. You sit quietly at the kitchen
table finishing the last cup from the coffee
pot...daydreaming about nothing in particular...getting
ready to start another weekday.

The doorbell rings once, startling you from your morning
trance. You rise slowly from the table, wondering who it
might be. As you walk from the kitchen to the front door you
think "what a sight I am, hair all mussed, in an old robe
and worn slippers...well the hell with it, whoever it is
they probably don't look much better than I do."

Quickly you run your hands through your hair and down the
front of your robe, smoothing out the wrinkles as best you
can. Standing on your tip toes you peek through the security
viewer in the door. You can see the head and shoulders of a
man in a cap and workshirt. He apppears to be in his mid to
late thirties, with sandy blond hair peeking out from around
his cap.

You open the door slightly, and peering around the edge you
say "Yes?"

You can see more of him now...a strong, atheletic, tall man
carrying a toolbox in his right hand.

"You called about your refrigerator?" he says in a deep, but
soft baritone.

You remember your call to the appliance store in town
yesterday, and their promise to send someone to look at your
balky ice maker.

"Yes, I did, come in, please".

You open the door to let him in, then close it behind him.

"The ice maker...it doesn't work all the time, and we're
expecting company this weekend""

Just inside the door he places his tool box on the flooor
and turns to face you. His deep, hazel/green eyes meet
yours. You stand not moving under his unblinking gaze, and a
tremor of fear, or is it excitement, quivers along your
spine. For what seems an eternity neither of you speaks or
moves. You are riveted in place by his eyes. They seem to
reach out and hold you immobile, like a fawn caught in the
headlights of a speeding car.

He doesn't move, or speak. His eyes seem to see right into
your soul, and you desperately want to say something to
break the spell...but you can't find your voice. Something
primal in the depths of your being doesn't want to move or
speak, something strong and insistent, caged and yearning
for the light pushes its way up through your stomach like a
white fire. You stand unmoving, trembling, half afraid.

You watch helplessly as his hands reach for you. They are
strong, rough hands...a workingman's hands, but strangely
graceful in their movements.Slowly, one button at a time, he
unbuttons your robe. You feel on the edge of panic, but the
growing white fire in your belly holds you firmly, and
quietly, in place.

He pushes the robe gently off your shoulders, and it falls
silently, forgotten, to the floor.

Your knees are turning to water, and the trembling along
your spine is moving in waves. Gently he places his hands on
your shoulders and turns you around with your back to him.
His hands move softly to your hips, and with one hand on
your stomach backs you toward him, while the other lifts
your teddy over your head.

His hand on your stomach seems to spread the fire upward,
and for a moment you can't catch your breath. Gently his
hands move upward to caress your erect nipples. and after a
moment, downward across your stomach. By now, your will to
resist is vanished...you are consumed by an animal need so
strong that it's almost more frightening than this man, this
stranger. As he holds you against his body, you can feel his
nakedness against your back. Between your buttocks you feel
his erect penis pulsing gently, insistently.

He turns you around. For the first time you see his rock
hard body. The muscles of his stomach lie beneath his skin
like a washboard. His belly is covered by fine blond hair.
and his biceps ripple when he moves his arms. His tiny,
erect nipples point their desire at you, and as your nipples
touch his chest you totter on the edge of an orgasm.

In one fluid motion he reaches an arm beneath your buttocks
and another behind your back, and lowers you to the floor.
His hands begin to search every inch of your exposed body,
touching, caressing, fondling. Their rough texture on your
soft skin belies their gentleness. slowly his right hand
finds your clitoris and begins a gentle stroking which sends
waves of sensation coursing into your trembling belly. You
close your eyes, giving yourself over completely to the
sensations, feeling your mushrooming desire.

Your sensations gradually grow in intensity as the rhythm of
his hand on your clitoris grows ever faster. Suddenly he
stops, and you feel him move down toward your mons. He parts
your thighs and with a start of disappointment you feel him
move between them. Before you can open your eyes, you feel
the insistent pressure of his hand replaced by a warm, wet,
raspy sensation around your vagina, which moves slowly
upward toward your hot clitoris. As his wet tongue rasps
gently across it's inflamed head you feel your belly explode
in orgasm.

As you writhe in helpless rapture his stroking tongue guides
you from peak to peak, until you think there can't possibly
be any more. But moment after moment he caries you higher
until you believe you'll die. Finally, you collapse, beyond
sensation, floating on a soft carpet in a warm sea. You lie
exhausted, but yearning for more.

The stroking of his tongue subsides to a warm caress which
adds a gentle pink haze to your dream like state. Then,
gradually you feel his tongue become more insistent, and
once again, and yet again, you explode in ecstasy. Time
after countless time you follow this stranger into
sensations you never imagined possible, and after each he
gives you an eternity of quiet caressing to savor the
journey.

Finally, his tongue abandons your clitoris, and begins a
march across your belly. Nibbling, stroking, sucking, he
moves up to your full breasts. You feel his warm, wet tongue
gently circling your erect and sensitive nipples, first one,
and then the other, as sensation shoots from their tips to
the pit of your stomach. As he moves along your body,
hovering just above it, you feel his penis, erect, inflamed,
pressing into your thighs, and then your stomach, pulsing
gently up and down. You feel his breath panting on your
neck, and the extinguished flame of your desire rises again
from the ashes.

You become aware of the tip of his penis pushing gently at
the entrance to your vagina, as he sucks gently on the skin
of your shoulders. Your hands move along his back, stroking
the hard ribbons of muscle beneath his skin. You feel his
body begin to thrust at your vaginal entrance, and you
sense his need through the insistence of his movements. Your
hands run down his back and grip his iron hard buttocks, and
you pull gently, encouraging his joining with you. As he
feels your hands pulling him firmly toward you, he thrusts
forward, and your well lubricated vagina engulfs his
engorged penis. You both gasp with pleasure at the
penetration.

His penis begins to stroke rhythmically, and with each
pistoning movement he seems to fill you completely. His body
is very strong, and his desire for you is intense, but his
movement is surprisingly gentle. This strong, hard man is
making love to you, and the sudden realization of it brings
on an orgasmic release which is as unexpected as it is
pleasureable. You rock together in a rhythm as old as time,
as waves of pleasure on the physical plane, and joy on the
spiritual plane wash over you both.

As your orgasm subsides into a warm glow, his thrusting
grows more gentle, virtually stoping at times.
Still he moves in and out, almost helplessly. Each gentle
thrust of his hips places his body deep inside yours. The
simple pleasure of being joined rivals the intensity of the
other sensations you have created together. You have no
sense of time, or place, only the joining, the oneness.

You can feel beneath the tightness of his back muscles a
growing need, an insistence, which is as much a part of his
primal being as the white hot fire in your belly is of
yours. You can sense in him a need to climax, to finish the
act, to leave part of himself inside you. You feel this need
building with every pistoning of his massively erect penis,
with every thrust of his hips. You can feel his buttocks
clenching with increasing desperation as he nears his
completion. As you feel this need, you want to join him
fully. His increasingly powerful thrusts are greated with
your own ever more powerful upthrusts as you strive together
to join in this most human of acts. You pound together,
stripped of intellect, reduced to primitive animals,
grunting, panting, sweat intermingling, senseless, inflamed
, and desperately reaching for each other. In a moment his
thrusting becomes beyond his control. You open yourself
totally pressing upward to meet his downward plunges until
he moans, tortured, and begins to stiffen with the
approaching climax. Your own final orgasm grips you at the
moment you feel his completion, and you hold him desperately
with every muscle in your body. His back arches violently,
and between your sweaty thighs, deep in the recesses of your
clutching vagina, you feel him begin to throb.With each
throb in your vagina, you hear him gasp, and you feel his
hot semen pour out of you, running down the crack between
your buttocks. With each thrust it flows around his
pistoning penis and gushes out. A half dozen times he fills
your overflowing vagina, and each time his huge cock forces
it out onto your buttocks. Its scalding wash inflames your
final explosion, and you shudder together in your final
release. In a last moment of conscious thought before you
collapse together you feel a completeness you've never
imagined possible before.

After some time, you couldn't say how long, you feel his
lips brush your cheek. Without a word he stands up, pulls on
his clothes, picks up his tools, and quietly leaves.

For a long time afterward you lie alone on your livingroom
floor, wondering at your lack of remorse, and pleasuring in
the warm afterglo. "We never said a word" you think. And as
you think about it you realize that the silence, the
anonimity, made it alright. "I'm still married, I still have
the kids, I still love my husband...I'm ok." And you realize
that you've gained something precious...a secret memory to
place in that absolutely private place inside, never to be
forgotton, or repeated.
 
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