The kind of dream where you know you’re dreaming, because the possibility that this was actually happening was so far-fetched as to be ridiculous.
Where the possibility that this was actually your buddy’s hot mom sneaking into your room in the dead of night just wasn’t ever going to be a thing.
Where it wasn’t Catherine kneeling at the end of your mattress, sliding her hands under the duvet, running them up the insides of your calves, reaching your thighs, then drawing back down, clawing you until your skin was raw and burning for more.
I bit back on a groan, my hands gripping the mattress to either side, my upper body still raised partly on my elbows.
My eyes were better adjusted to the dark now and I saw her there, eyes glinting as she peered up at me.
Then she dipped her head down beneath the duvet.
Hands sliding up my legs. The brush of hair. The gentle press of breasts against my shins.
Looking down, all I could see was the white bedding tented upwards and the perfect peach of Catherine Beacham’s bare ass presented to the world.
Her hands moved up to my hips, her hair brushing my lower thighs, breasts squashed against my shins.
One hand moved inwards and the scrape of a nail found my hard dick where it lay upright against my belly.
Fingers dragged across the underside of my shaft, then pressed down, the thumb against the swell of my balls.
I turned my head to the side, struggling to stop myself groaning aloud.
That hand slid upwards then, the touch of her fingers delicate, like a feather brushing my skin, the touch of the thumb as it followed through more firm, tracing along the underside of my dick.
The first touch against the sensitive ridge of skin beneath the head of my dick made my spine arch, my whole body tense. As that finger slid up and across the shiny wetness of my glans, the next finger brushed that ridge and swept on, then the next, the next.
Now the hand turned, the fingers coiled around my shaft and her thumb found that ridge, spreading my wet pre-come across it, flicking and sliding up and down.
The sensations were exquisite, almost too intense for me to handle.
The darkness seemed to focus everything. Like a blind man whose other senses compensate for his loss, everything for me at that moment was focused on the sense of touch.
On her touch.
Catherine.
Maybe it wasn’t just the darkness that was responsible. Maybe it was the rudeness. The wrongness.
My buddy’s mom, down there under the bedding, one hand wrapped around my hard dick, the other now sliding under my ass, her hot breath on my balls as her hair brushed me delicately.
Her lips closing on me. Pressing against the base of my shaft. The soft wetness of her tongue pressed against me. Sliding down over my balls, pushing at them, moving them aside. Her mouth closing over me and drawing one ball in as that thumb worked against the underside of my glans.
She drew back now, my left ball still in her mouth. Pulling at it, almost painfully.
I turned my head, looked across. Hugo was still motionless, but I knew that at any moment I might lose control and cry out. That it might not even take that – he might just wake, open his eyes, see.
I looked down. Catherine’s ass glowed palely in the room’s low light now that my eyes had adjusted.
She allowed my ball to slide free of her mouth, pushed herself lower down, and her tongue slid over the sensitive skin between balls and ass. Caressing, probing.
Her grip tightened on me, and she started to pull rhythmically along my length, up and down, over and over again.
And that tongue...
I’d never had anyone do that to me before.
Lick me there.
Flick across that sensitive skin and press farther back, probing between my cheeks, finding that tight opening and... Oh my God!
Never before.
Pushing.
Sliding inside.
And all the time, that hand, its rhythm unfaltering, drawing up my length, sweeping across the wet head with fingers and palms, and then sliding down again.
I felt dizzy. Felt that I couldn’t breathe. Didn’t know whether I was going to come or black out.
Or both.
She must have sensed it, that closeness, that tensing.
She drew her hand down and squeezed tight around the base of my shaft and I almost came but that skillfully applied pressure stopped me right at the edge.
She swept her tongue upwards now, across my balls to my shaft, across her fingers where she still held me tight, and on, upwards, along my length.
I felt a pulse, deep in my groin, and knew that was it, but then she squeezed again, held tight, stopping me right on the verge of climax.
For long seconds we remained motionless, then the tension started to ease. She loosed her grip, and I knew the moment had passed under her expert hand.
Just as I drew a long breath in, I felt the delicious firm wetness of her tongue sweeping slowly up my length. Finding the head of my dick. Enclosing. Tongue and lips, the sharp scrape of teeth.
And slowly, slowly, she pushed down, lips tight around my dick.
So slow she was barely moving and yet that touch, the sliding, almost imperceptible...
The slowness of her movement seemed to amplify everything, her mouth tight and yet somehow soft around me at the same time.
She paused with her lips around the base of my dick, my full length in her mouth, and her tongue pressing down where shaft met balls.
She swallowed, and I felt it as a rippling, squeezing sensation, a tightening across the head of my dick.
She pressed down, took me even deeper, her throat constricting repeatedly as she swallowed me in, until her face ground down into my lap and she held me as deep as I could go.
When she pulled back it was the most incredible thing I’d ever felt, that slow, wet, yielding sensation, and then before I knew it she was pushing down again, swallowing me deep.
All I could do was hang on, literally.
My hands gripped the mattress to either side, and I ground my head back into the pillow, my entire body braced.
Again, she pulled back, paused, pushed down, slowly.
I felt it building. Knew that whatever skills she might possess there was no special grip in the world that was going to stop me this time.
She drew back, the head still in her mouth, and now her tongue started to beat steadily against me, a flicking, lapping sensation.
One hand bore down against my balls, fingers spread to either side of my shaft, and the other hand took me in its tight grip and started to pump, working steadily up and down my shaft while that tongue flick-flick-flicked across my glans.
I reached down, buried my fingers in her fine hair. Pushed her down into my lap again.
She slid down around me, that perfect little mouth pursed tight, allowed her teeth to tease and scrape, and that was it.
I felt a swelling deep within, felt my balls tightening, retracting. A tensing in my abdomen.
She held me deep, sucked and pressed, and my orgasm surged upwards, outwards, a pulse of come sliding up my shaft and spurting out into her mouth.
She swallowed, and that tight rippling in her mouth drew more come from me.
Swallowed again, and I started to soften.
I drew my hand away and she stayed there, keeping me in her mouth as she worked the last few drops of come from me. Sliding and rolling me in her mouth as I grew soft, the sensations shifted from intense to intimate. Hanging onto me as if she never wanted to let go.
Then, slowly, she pulled away, and I felt my length slipping between her lips, and finally flopping free.
A brush of hair, a hand sliding down my leg. Breasts pressed briefly against my knees.
She pulled away, drew herself down the mattress until the duvet fell back down and she was kneeling, peering up at me in the dark, that mischievous smile just visible on her face.
Then she stood,
turned and went to the door, and seconds later I was alone with Hugo’s heavy breathing and I started to wonder if it really had been a dream thrown together by the exhausted mind of a horny young traveler.
§
As I told Lucy the story of my encounter with Catherine Beacham, she kept the sheet pulled down tight between us, my hard dick trapped. Occasionally she pressed down, pulling the fabric tighter. Occasionally she pressed her arm against me, a sudden hard pressure.
Now, as I pause, she bites on her lower lip, and pulls on the sheet again.
She could make me come like that: the look on her face, the glint in her eye, the subtle application of pressure. Such a tease, such a turn-on!
I reach for her, brush that strand of hair away from her face.
She presses against my hand, turns her head to kiss the base of my thumb, the inside of my wrist.
I run my hand down, cup a heavy breast, the nipple hard against my thumb.
“What was she like afterwards?” Lucy asks. “What did she say?”
“It was as if nothing had happened,” I tell her. “We went for breakfast and everything was polite. Charlie, Hugo and I drove into London for the day, did the tourist things, had something to eat at a bar just off Covent Garden. It was all very normal.”
“Until...?”
“Until Hugo took me aside and said he’d had the strangest dream the night before...”
§
“Dream? What kind of dream?”
Charlie had slipped away to the men’s room and almost immediately Hugo turned to me with his confession.
Now, he looked awkward.
“About her. Charlie’s mom.”
“Yeah? What happened?”
My mind was racing. Had he seen us, or had he really just dreamed about Catherine? Perhaps he’d remained asleep but his subconscious had picked up on something, feeding into his dreams?
“It was weird. It was like her top half was covered and I could only see her naked ass. That’s the image that’s stuck in my mind.”
I flashed back. That image was so clear for me, too. Only I was looking down, seeing Catherine’s ass emerging from the bottom of my bedding while she...
“Nothing else? Just that image?”
Hugo shrugged. “I don’t know...”
“Don’t know what?”
He looked away. Then back at me. “You were there too. She was...”
He didn’t finish. Didn’t need to.
“You had a sex dream about me? And Charlie’s mom? Jeez, Hugo, I’m worried about you.”
In the nick of time, Charlie reappeared across the bar.
“Listen,” I said. “Probably best not to mention to Charlie that you had a wet dream about his mom, okay?”
§
“What happened next?”
Now, Lucy takes hold of the sheet and tugs it down, dragging it along my body until it’s draped across my thighs and I’m exposed to her. Her hand comes back up, knuckles dragging along the underside of my hard dick.
She knows me. She knows there’s more to this story.
I breathe out slowly, savoring that slow, positive touch after so much tease.
“I found her,” I said. “That night when we got back. I told her what Hugo had said. I told her I wasn’t sure if he’d dreamed or actually seen, but that at least she should know.”
Her knuckles on my belly now, sweeping up and then pausing, dragging back down.
The side of her hand comes to rest against the head of my dick, slips between shaft and belly. Fingers clench, wrap, enclose. Her thumb presses on that sweet spot, slick with my clear juices.
“What did she say?”
She squeezes, and my mouth falls open.
“She said...” Another squeeze, another gasp. So intense! “She said, ‘Do you think he liked what he saw?’”
§
That night, back in my old college buddy’s English country home, while he slept safely in his bed, his mom had other plans entirely.
This time it was my turn to watch.
I lay there in the dark, hard and waiting, knowing what was to come.
Heard the soft fall of footsteps outside the room I shared with Hugo. The creak of the door.
In the dim light I watched as she moved across the room to the bed and dropped to her knees.
Hugo’s heavy breathing changed. I’d never known anyone to fall asleep as easily as he did, but now it was time for him to wake.
To be woken.
With hands beneath the covers, sliding up his calf, the inside of a thigh.
I imagined what must be in his head. The shock. The realization.
The understanding that this was no dream.
I watched her lift the covers, dip her head down.
Now, only her lower half emerged.
Hugo groaned, long and deep, as the shape of her beneath the covers moved up, reached his middle.
In the low light I watched the perfect peach of her ass as she leaned over him, under the bedding. Saw it start to tense and rock as her head bobbed up and down.
Just then Hugo’s eyes opened wide and he stared at me, saw that I was awake, watching. Grinning.
I’d been lying on my side watching, my dick hard and heavy. Now I rose to my knees, stood, moved closer.
The skin of her ass was perfect. Flawless and smooth, the flesh firm, the muscles tensing and relaxing as she used the strength of her whole body to draw her head up and then bob back down on my buddy’s dick.
A hand on each cheek, I spread her from behind.
Dropped to my knees and let one hand slip between her thighs, press upwards.
She was so wet already. Soft and hot.
As the underside of my wrist pressed up against her she bore down, her back arching.
With my free hand I reached for the bedding and pulled it clear.
I wanted to see her. Wanted to watch her going down on Hugo.
I pressed my wrist against her, then pulled back so my hand cupped her sex, squeezing and caressing.
She was shaved, just a tiny strip of hair leading down to the hard button of her clit. I flicked at her gently, steadily, with the tip of my middle finger, the heel of my hand pressing hard against her pussy.
Then I dipped my head, gave her what she’d given me the night before.
A tongue exploring the contours of her upper thigh, her ass. Sliding through the folds of her pussy. I sucked at her labia, flicking with my tongue.
Found her clit and pressed against it with my tongue. Started to slide and tease and flick.
Hands on her ass I drove my tongue deep into her pussy and she bucked, raised her head and cried out.
I drew back and then drove deep again, fucking her with my tongue.
Next time I pulled back I let my tongue sweep down across her clit, then back up and into her cunt again, as deep as it would go.
My face was slick with her juices now, and I wanted more.
I slid my tongue up to tease the sensitive skin between pussy and ass.
Kissed her where I’d never kissed a girl before.
Flicked at that puckered opening and then pressed until my tongue squeezed inside.
I slid my tongue deep and moved my hand to her pussy once again. Pulled back and slid deep.
Found a rhythm, my thumb in her pussy, fingers squeezing labia and clit, tongue in her ass, all moving together, playing her, every movement sensitive to her responses, to her own rhythm as she ground against me and bobbed her head up and down on Hugo’s dick.
She moved.
Pulled away.
Knees on the bed, crawling up over Hugo’s supine body until she was poised.
Hard to see the detail in the room’s low light, but I saw when she raised herself, paused, and then slowly slid down onto his dick.
Hugo gave that deep groan again.
When she’d fully lowered herself, she started to roll her hips, back and forward, twisting as she moved.
Briefly, I wasn’t sur
e what to do but then she twisted and reached back for me.
I moved so her hand found its target, wrapped itself around me, pulled me in.
It was odd, the contact then. Legs against hairy legs, rough skin against smooth, as I moved up behind Catherine where she straddled Hugo.
I stopped thinking about it quickly as her hand started to work me, steer me, position me.
Her other hand came round now. Wet. From spit, or had she come prepared with some other kind of lube for this? Right now I wouldn’t have been surprised at that.
Slowly, sensuously, she worked me wet, worked me slippery, then held herself still as she directed my dick down towards her ass. Pressed me between her buttocks, so that for a few delicious seconds I slid along the cleft between them.
Then she pushed me further down until the head of my dick pressed against her dark opening.
I pushed. Felt a brief giving sensation, a tight, muscular grip around my dick as I slipped in.
Carefully, I pushed further, until my balls were against Hugo’s, my dick buried to its hilt in Catherine’s ass.
Hugo thrust up then, unable to contain himself and it was the strangest sensation, feeling him moving inside her, feeling all three bodies shifting in response.
Catherine shushed him, stilled him, and the hand that had guided me now rested on my hip, holding me still.
Motionless like this, I felt every slight movement, every pulse and spasm. The hard contact of our tangled limbs. The sense of not knowing who was touching what, of what was happening.
But one thing I did know, and that was who was in control.
She started to move. Just a slight rock of the hips that drove me deeper and then drew away, that did the same to Hugo.
Our bodies shifted against each other.
I held myself rigid, savoring every sensation, as she rocked and twisted, subtle movements that made everything so intense.
She’d been straddling Hugo with her body upright, but now she dipped forward, pressed herself against him, another change in all the sensations.
“Fuck me, Jason,” she said. “Fuck me hard.”
Briefly I hesitated, wondering just how hard she could take it. Not wanting to hurt her, not wanting to disappoint her.
“Fuck me!”
I drew back until I was almost out of her, then pushed forward, a slow, deliberate movement. Using the full length of my dick until I was buried deep inside her once more.
The Complete BBW Hotwife Page 7
