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From: Jesse Grant <raven1@mediaone.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Dreamdance part 1: The Foretelling (Mf, rom, odd)
Date: Mon,  9 Jul 2001 05:10:01 -0400
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Dreamdance Part 1: the Foretelling (Mf, rom, odd)
By Jesse Grant

I am standing on a hill, covered in long dewy grass that tickles my
knees and makes me shiver when it slides between my toes. The wind from
the sea where boats play on the gentle waves teases the long strands of
amber hair that float past my face and I know that they are mine and I
marvel at it for a moment, knowing it is strange, but not knowing why.
I feel his presence behind me and I feel warmth deep in my belly. I know
him, but I don't, and again it is strange, but does not worry me.  The
wind is sweet and I can feel the sunlight seeping into the bare skin of
my face and arms.  I feel his hands caress my arms and it sends a
tremble through me. Oh, I almost moan, it feels so wonderful.  I look up
to his face as he stands behind me, he is so very tall.  His features
are shaded by the sun, and I cannot see them, but it is okay, because I
know them, perfectly, deep in my heart.
He moves his hands around to my front and caresses my sides and the firm
swells of my breasts, small as they are and I catch my breath.  I shiver
all over and lean back against him, feeling his arousal through his
tight pants and my tight tunic, hard against the middle of my back.  I
feel him tremble and the warmth in my belly ripples outward and
downward.
He kneels in the tall grass, still behind me, still caressing. I feel
his lips brush against my neck and I gasp at the tenderness and moan
again, softly, as shivers race between my hardening nipples and my
spine.  He holds me close to his strong chest and whispers words I
cannot quite hear into my ear. His breath is warm and it makes me want
to feel more.  The sun warms us both, the wind swirls around us and I
shudder as he kisses my ear. My nipples are pressed against his arm as
he wraps it around my chest, hugging me close. His other hand slips down
to caress my belly, and I shiver again at the feel of warm cotton
against my bare skin and know that only a millimeter of fabric separates
me from his touch. The closeness and the distance are wonderful in
contrast. His hand slips down, down, down, slowly, pausing at my hip to
caress, to tease and delight. I want to melt in his arms and to soar at
the same time.  I whimper, softly, as his hand moves down below my
narrow hips and slowly approaches the hem of my tunic. I tremble,
wanting him to touch me more, wanting him to make me his.
I gasp and release the breath I had not realized I was holding as his
warm, strong hand slips to the bare skin of my thigh, my toes gripping
at the soft earth and tender grass beneath them.  He caresses me gently,
lovingly, and then his hand moves upward once more, lifting the front
flap of my tunic, his hand bringing the warmth of the sun to my hidden
skin.  He lifts me, holding me to his chest as his hand slips closer,
closer, closer, closer. Oh Lords! Oh my lord, my master, my love, Oh!
His hand, like the fires of heaven, caresses, burning, across the flesh
above my secret place. I whine, deep in my throat, biting my lower lip
as his lips caress my neck below my ear. I spread my legs against his,
leaning back into his embrace, letting him take me. His hand teases,
taunts me as it plays with the smooth skin above the place I want it to
be, need it to be.
He laughs when I whimper, almost begging, a crystal note in my ear and I
feel the warmth inside me increase into a raging inferno, yet still one
as gentle as the sunlight. His hand moves downward, slipping over the
smooth flesh until he holds me in the palm of his large, strong, smooth
hand. He squeezes gently and I feel the pressure of his finger against
the cleft of my being. He slowly traces my being with the tip of his
finger and I almost sob at the sensation. He presses it against my
folds, and I cry out, screaming his name to the wind and the sea and the
hills and all the world as he makes me his. I feel the pleasure and the
pressure rise inside me and just when it seems as sweet as it can get
and I feel like everything is just about perfect, I...
  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Wake UP!"
     Jason Porter, age 16, Amazon High School junior, stat bolt upright
in bed and looked at his room for several moments before he remembered
who he was and where.  He gasped for breath and shuddered violently. He
had just been dreaming... hadn't he?  The Dream was fading, fading, gone.
What had it been about, he couldn't remember.
     "JASON ALEXANDER PORTER, WAKE UP!!" came the cry again and this
time he recognized it as the voice of his mother.
     He sighed, another wonderful morning. "I'm awake Mom!"
     "Don't be late for school, Muffin!" Came the cry from downstairs.
     "Don't call me Muffin Ma!" cried the boy, blushing and shaking his
head.  She still thought he was 4 years old, didn't she. He threw back
the covers of his bed and hopped out of bed. He slipped on his skate
board and slammed, crotch first, into the handle of his bathroom door.
He fell to the ground, cluching his brused erection and moaned softly.
The pain passed after a few moments and he got to his feet, alright, but
a little shaky.  He looked down at his prick, tenting the front of his
boxer-briefs and sighed, half mockingly, "I guess I know what that dream
was about now."
     He slipped of his underwear and slipped into the shower, turning it
on once he was under, the cold water shocking him awake and helping
reduce both the lingering pain and the discomfort he was feeling.
     Fifteen minutes later, fully dressed, he slipped out the front
door, locked it behind him, tossed his skateboard down onto the sidewalk
and jumped over the three stairs on the walkway and onto the board, and
shot off for school, thinking no more about the dream.

To Be continued.

This work Copyright the author. It is unlawful to repost or reproduce it
without express permission of the author. Blah, blah, blah. Hope you
enjoyed it.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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