Conjuring a Fantasy
I see her in the twist and sway of the wind in the branches. Whispers of her crouch above me. She sighs, lowers the barest hint of herself onto me, gazing upward, whipped by passion. I exude lust and pheromones. They flesh her out, give her greater substance. Substance enough to taste. She lies on top of me, lips hovering mere millimeters from mine. I taste her breath and then her lips. Her desirous, wanton tongue searches out mine. We kiss and I can feel the press of her breasts on my chest. The swell of them tingles as they bulge against me. The burning hardness of her nipples presses deep. I am helpless, caught in the grasp of my own nebulous succubus. She shifts. I can smell her. Her glorious, spicy, wet scent catches on the breeze. It tingles in my nose and then, very slowly, fills it. She crawls into my senses until all I can experience is her. Now I can see her, her image burned into the undersides of my clenched eyelids. She is perfection in every moment. A kaleidoscope of fantasy. One moment pale and alabaster, the next dark as obsidian. Tatted and clear skinned. Blue eyed and brown. Voluptuous and curvy mixed with slender and petite. My skin summons the sensation of you. You ride inside me, just along my edges. I am already inside you because you are inside me. I feel you on my cock, thick with wetness, needful, perfectly suited to your task. You take me in your mouth, your pussy, your ass, between your breasts. You take me in every possible way, separately, and then all at once. Visions swarm my sight. We are fucking in every position I can conceive. We switch seemlessly between them at my whim. You moan. Your sighs and convulsions incite my orgasm. I release, burying my seed in your ethereal depths. You collapse onto me, fade into me, gone for the moment. I wake, smiling, satiated.