Just a Dream — Fictional Scene (NSFW)
A Draft Scene from Origins of Mr H.
Note: Origins of Mr H. is a prequel to Alpha Male Sub.
__________
Morocco, late 1990s
Bent forward on my knees, I gripped the headboard. Risking my knuckles being scrapped against the wall, a shiver of anticipation coursed through me. The gorgeous raven-haired nymph behind me latched onto me with her long, piano-playing fingers, her 1-inch nails grazing my skin as she thrust the thick, cold shaft of her dildo into my prepared and ready ass.
Wait, what!?
She groaned and grunted, riding me. She whispered along my rib cage, “Does that feel good, my tall, handsome fuck of a man?”
Before my synapses could audibly form a reply, she reached around and touched my balls which felt heavier than a sack of sand and just the way she wanted them to feel. She squeezed roughly and I couldn’t prevent the groan deep within my throat from reaching the air around us. Just a few inches away from her nails, my cock strained in an effort to rise against the steel rings of the cage that I willing wore.
“Aroused, hmm?” She purred, giving me another squeeze as I felt the precum drip from the head of my captured cock.
This time I found words, any words I could. “Please. Let me cum.” Selfish, desperate, and not surprisingly, not what she wanted to hear.
The little nymph laughed and reached up to pinch my nipple as she straddled my upper thighs as weightless as a feather. The goddess in control leaned back, switched on the vibe attached to the other end of her strap-on which was buried deep inside her. She gave a shuttered gasp and then thrust into me again.
“Me first, me second, and maybe…if you’re a good fuck, you third…” She gritted out as she ground into me.
I could feel the vibrations pulsing from her into me. My breath grew heavier, my knuckles did indeed scrape against the wall, and I did not care at all. I bucked back against the sensation building, even as I knew I would be unable to climax.
__________
David startled awake into the dark room of the youth hostel. The still the night lay quietly upon the city, which was in stark contrast to the urgent air of the pounding erotic dream almost instantaneously beginning to fade from his recollection. He rubbed his eyes fervently, removing a bit of grit from the sandy Moroccan night which had found its way into the corners of his closed brown eyes.
As David realised he was fully aroused, the young English university student’s face reddened in the darkness. No one else was there in his one-night-stand of a room.
More be the pity, he mused. But his travels had just begun. Who knew what adventures awaited him.
David swung his legs to the side and reached for the bottled water on the small bedside table. Then he laughed and shook his head a bit.
“What in the ever-loving fuck was that?” David asked himself quietly after taking a long swallow that quenched his parched throat.
Within moments, the details of the dream were completely gone.
