Dick came slowly awake with the sound of dogs barking outside. He cocked one eye and stared up at the ceiling where a filigree of shadows was cast by the sun streaming through the ivy outside the window. He took a deep breath, slowly brought his hand out from beneath the covers, and stared at his watch. Nine o'clock. His prodigious yawn was cut short as he suddenly recalled the dream… about their hosts' wife!
He blinked. Yes, of course, it was a dream. He turned on his side and stared speculatively at the still sleeping Sue. In his dream Nora had been his wife… no, that wasn't right either. It had been Sue be made love to in his dream, only Sue looked like Nora? Was that it?
He smiled secretively. No matter. It was one helluva wet dream. Boy, he'd had women go wild under him before, but nothing like Nora in the dream. She'd fought him like a marlin trying to shake a hook; the hook had been his prick, and he'd let her run, then reeled in, let her run again, and then finally brought her to gaff – panting and gasping. A real prize trophy. Tremendous. Unbelievably tremendous!
The dream had come tenuously. He remembered waking up next to Sue… only it really wasn't Sue, it was Nora. Oh, to hell with it, he thought; what does it matter. The dream was the thing! In the dream he had awakened to find himself stripped and lying next to his nude wife. It was the way he had been awakened that was interesting. His wife had been fondly stroking his cock, crooning over it, admiring its size and beauty.
She had kissed him, and her mouth was all honey and heat and tongue. And she had placed his head against her breast and fed him like a hungry infant. And then she had stroked his cock again and told him she wanted it deep inside her.
His wife had said, "With a cock like yours, I want a real bread and butter fuck, at least the first time. Tomorrow night, you're going to eat it. Tonight, though, you'll just fuck it till I go crazy."
The term had eluded him; he'd never heard it before. "A bread and butter fuck?" he asked.
"Honey," she had explained patiently, "a bread and butter fuck is a straight fuck. You on top of me with my legs wrapped around you – nothing kinky… just plain old fashioned fucking. Bang… bang… oh, glorious bang!"
She bent her legs at the knees, placing her feet right up next to her buttocks. Then she spread herself for him. "Come on in… the water's fine," she crooned, her black eyes aflame with lust, and smiling wickedly through bared teeth. Her cunt was smiling too, its dark hair-lined vaginal lips already moist with its lust. And the clitoris standing like a campanile at the top of the quad.
He entered her with a rush. "Gaaaagghh," she moaned happily as the cock rode up like a nonstop express elevator. His balls slammed in against her asshole, bringing a low groan of pain-delight from his wife. Her legs uncoiled and then her calves were against his buttocks, her heels and toenails were used as spurs. She began grinding her ass into the mattress, making sharp little circular motions that were viciously exciting. He really didn't have much moving to do; she did most of it, arching her back and using her legs on his buttocks as though she were hanging from gymnastic rings. She was the master of the moment; she was the director, star, manager, boss. His hot penile shaft drove into the target, and with each new thrust, her open pussy became juicier – the bullseye hotter. His wife was lying there – taking it all… breathing heavily through nostrils that expanded and contracted like the diaphragm on an underwater breathing apparatus. "Slowly," she commanded, and it was a definite order, not to be disobeyed.
Suddenly there was a shimmering of consciousness, and a strange heat was on him. Always he had tried to be gentle, if possible. He didn't like the queenly attitude of his wife. Now for some sadistic reason he only vaguely understood, he wanted her to know that there was only one boss at a time like this – the male! Actually, he wanted to hear her submit completely and actually plead for mercy. He withdrew his cock until only the head was still buried in the vaginal folds. His wife looked up angrily and said. "Keep going, you fool. I said, 'slowly', not stop."
He grinned down at her, then shoved forward as viciously as he could.
"Aaaa… gaaaaahhh!" she screamed, and he knew he was hurting her – knew he was scraping and rattling like a runaway subway train along each dark bend and curve of her vaginal tunnel. He felt his cock abruptly slap up against the far wall of her uterus. He immediately withdrew it once more and slammed all its seven inch length into the covering hole. "Goddamnit," the woman moaned, "I said take it easy; you're hurting me." Now Dick felt as though he were a human pile driver. He had a massive steel beam which had to be driven through that quivering quicksand into bedrock. He began driving in – without pity – hearing her groan and moan beneath him. Once, their pelvises crashed together so hard that he was sure he had broken something. His prick had grown to astronomical size; it was as if it had a mind of its own – a predatory destroyer rampaging through the warm jungles of her defenseless cunt.
Dick glanced down at the female. Her mouth was laxly open, and her breath was hissing through bared teeth. She was rotating her shoulders as though she were trying to take wing and fly. She was panting… and her eyes were rolling wildly. She was close to cumming. Well, fuck it!
With sadistic pleasure, Dick withdrew his cock completely. Her haunches rose up like a blind animal, weaving in the air, seeking it. "What's… what's wrong?" she panted. "Don't stop now… you can't stop."
"Why not?" he growled, wanting only to hear her beg.
She guessed his purpose. "You God-damned impudent son of a bitch… fuck me!" she hissed, and then grabbed his testicles and yanked so hard it felt as though they were being ripped out by the roots. Her fingernails cruelly and purposely bit into the scrotum.
Dick reacted much the same as a bull being pricked by a picador. He charged! "Why you… you!" He savagely slapped her face. Her head flew back against the pillow; her eyes glazed from the blow. The pain in his balls was agonizing. He wanted only to punish the bitch now.
He wanted to hurt her more that he had ever wanted to hurt anyone before in his life.
He put his steel-hard cock against her tender vaginal mouth and shoved; as he did so, he pushed her knees back until her face peered between them like a frightened owl in the branches of a tree. It gave him another two inches of depth, and she screamed in genuine pain as he reached the virginal territory.
In and out he drove with demented fury, a fury that did not die even when she screamed, "I'm cumming. Fuck harder, you Yankee bastard. I'm cumming!" Her loins were trying to work up and down on his shaft, but he kept her pinned there. She groaned and fell back – no longer fighting him as her orgasm began. He could feel her pussy twitching and sucking away at him, could feel the sudden new heat of her steaming snatch as her cum flooded her hidden passageways. He kept pounding mindlessly into her until she screamed a minute later, "I'm cumming again… aaiiieeee." This was followed within seconds by another cry of release, then another, then still another, until her orgasms began running together in one continuous aurora borealis of ecstasy glowing and dancing across her wildly clamping pussy walls. Finally, her eyes rolled into her head and she passed out completely. Dick, propped up by knees and elbows, glanced down at her. He pinched her nipple; she remained unconscious. Then, grinning sardonically, he made one – two – three savage thrusts forward before his cock began spurting its scalding hot cum directly against the hot, still slightly pulsating walls of her subservient cunt. God how she had cum! It was the cum of a conqueror fucking a helpless female captive… a slave of lust… the cum of hatred and mastery… but not of love.
He fell alongside her unconscious body and gave way to a victorious sleep.
Some time later in the dream, he vaguely recalled her voice sleepily saying, "That was the best fuck I've had in years. Simply years, darling. But you were a very bad boy. You hurt me. I know you must have ripped something inside me… you loveable, uncontrollable bastard."
And still later, the voice said, "Repeat after me. At two o'clock tomorrow night, you will come to me again. Now, you will return to your room and when you awake tomorrow morning, it will all seem like a dream. It will have been a dream – you made love to your wife…"
Just before final oblivion came, he thought he heard her laughter and thought he caught the words, "Tomorrow night, my dear, I'll not let you off the leash like tonight. Tomorrow you are going down between my legs and eat it…"
What a screwy dream! Really wild! As if his bride would ever talk or act like this. Quietly, so that he wouldn't disturb Sue, he got out of bed and went to the shower.
As he stepped under the stream of hot water, he laughed and said aloud, "I feel listless, man, almost as if I really had been screwing all night." Then almost immediately he thought: A helluva thing – having a wet dream on my honeymoon; that doesn't speak too much of Sue's love making abilities. He felt a trifle guilty when he realized that the dream probably was based on wishful thinking – based on the hope that Sue would start showing some emotion, some initiative, and would relax and enjoy his love making.
It wasn't until he was towelling himself dry that he noted the very slight bruise on his right calf. It looked almost as if he had pricked himself with a pin or something.