That Dratted Affair with the Dream Engine (2 page)

Oh...

Annette
chuckled softly in a way that had no right coming from my mouth.
She floated toward me and closed the hand that should have been
mine around the breast that should have been hers. Slowly,
tenderly, she began to knead the flesh. She murmured, "Do you like
it?"

I
had no choice but to agree. I had an idea by now that I did not act
under my own compulsion; rather, I was somehow just a spectator in
a dream that was Annette's. In this dream, I responded by exhaling
pleasurably. Annette's touch
did
feel remarkably good. I had never realized quite how large and
pleasantly warm my hands were, or just
how
sensitive her soft breast was. I closed my eyes as I
experienced both now. And then she flicked my nipple between her
fingers, and my breath hitched and places in my body I had never
had before began to tense and swell.

My eyes flew
open. Annette smiled wolfishly at me, irises bright. "Oh, yes," she
said, twisting the nipple gently now, then pulling on it slowly
until it slid smoothly and elastically from her grip. "You feel it,
don't you?"

I was
mesmerized, caught by her gaze as her face dipped slowly toward
mine. Her lips brushed my lips, moustache tickling. I could feel
the warmth and solidness of her body closing over mine. As she
slipped a broad hand over the smooth, cool skin of my back, I
yielded like putty, relaxing against her grip.

"Yes," she
mumbled against my lips. "You want this so very much."

With
that, her lips closed around mine—gentle, firm, tender. Despite
myself, I moaned wordlessly. My nostrils flared and I sucked in a
deep breath of her. My senses exploded with the heady essence
of
man
: sweat and
spice and something inexplicably primal. I could not help myself,
but captured his lips with own, my arms seeking his strong
shoulders and curling around the curve of his neck. His mouth was
so very delicious, and I was hungry for it. For him.

One of his
hands slid down to the soft curve of my butt, while his other arm
closed strongly about my shoulders. As he began to pet my ass, he
sighed against me and brushed my lips with his tongue, inviting
them to open. They did, and gladly. Gently, succulently, his tongue
slid into my mouth, caressing my lips, my tongue. His breath was
hot against mine, and I could sense his reserve, the force with
which he held his animal passion back. It trembled in his arms, on
his breath.

My stomach
tightened. I wanted him. I wanted that—the animal, not the
gentleman. I closed my arms around him and pressed my mouth harder
against his, bruising. I plunged my tongue deep and moaned with my
need.

He
responded with a groan. The hand on my ass gripped hard at the
plush flesh, the tips of his short nails edging into my skin. He
pulled me even closer against him and closed his mouth like a
beast's around mine, his tongue stroking deeper, curling and
fighting with mine.
Oh, yes...

With
a gasp, he pulled away. We both drank greedily at the air.
Hoarsely, he said, "Jeremy, I've wanted you... I've wanted
you
so
badly
like
this."

Jeremy. Yes.
I
was Jeremy,
and Annette—

Annette looked so rakish in my body, hair tousled, a sheen of
sweat slicking her forehead. I found it difficult to swallow as I
looked at her, struggling with myself. My entire body felt swollen
and inviting, so craving of touch. I was overcome with the feeling
of not wanting to be
in
Annette,
but wanting Annette in
me.

"
Sshh
. It's all
right," she said with my voice, stroking my face with my fingers.
So softly, so lovely, her touch trailing. "You are a woman now. You
are so very beautiful, and I
love
you. Jeremy, I
want
you."

"Annette—
" I
began, but stopped cold at the sound of this voice—her
voice—issuing from my throat. So delicate, so feminine. My hand
flew to my throat.

She
smiled, tenderly. "
Sshh
," she
hushed again, and touched one finger to my lips. "Just let me show
you."

Annette
slipped her hands under my body so that she was cradling me like a
child, or a bride. She kissed me again, this time softly, chastely.
When she lifted her head away, I found that the infinite blue space
had been replaced by a room, lavishly furnished in golds and burnt
reds. Gravity had returned, and I felt as Annette lowered me down
and set me upon the silk sheets of a large, luxurious bed. I
trembled at the kiss of cool fabric against my skin.

There was a
whisper of a troubled thought, as if something was—

As
Annette stood straight, I was distracted by the view of her lean
body.
My
lean body. But, I had
never seen it like this before, chest solid, waist narrow, arms
strong. So tall, towering over me. When my gaze slid downward, it
froze on her engorged cock. With a chuckle, she lowered her hand to
lightly caress and encircle its length. She said, "Jeremy, I love
your cock. I love it so very, very much—even more so on me. Mm."
She smiled, an expression that reminded me of a tiger. She asked,
"What do you think?" She brushed her fingers along the shaft as I
stared, fixated on its beauty—the smooth, taut skin, the swell of
the head, the hard length of it.

A quiver ran
through me as I remembered the feel of Annette's fragile feminine
fingers on my cock—stroking, just like that. However, the flesh
that swelled and burned in response to my lust now was not a cock,
but Annette's flower-like vulva. As I stared at the stiff,
statuesque member, I found myself licking my lips with a hunger I
had never before known.

In a low
voice, Annette said, "You can suck it, if you'd like."

Oh, could I?
Another quiver of desire caused me to tremble
delicately.

No. No,
something was wrong, I—

"I'd like to
feel your mouth on my cock, Jeremy," she said,
breathily.

Oh, and how I
wanted her cock in my mouth! How had I never desired it before? How
had my mouth never watered at the sight, as it was now?

The
man in me growled—
an impotent sound, in this contralto voice—and I said, "You
wicked vixen."

Annette smiled. "Oh, but
I
am
not the vixen."

"No," I said,
carefully. "No, I suppose you're not." I could not take my eyes
from her erection, it tempted me so. "But when this is over..." I
did not complete the thought. Instead, I crawled on my hands and
knees to the edge of the bed. I could help myself no longer: I
leaned forward and slid my lips over the smooth head of her
member.

Reflexively, a
groan issued from me, and I felt her shudder on contact. My
nostrils flared and I took a deep breath. She filled me: firm and
satiny and pulsing with heat. I moaned again and nudged my head
forward, pushing her farther in, lips and jaw stretching for her
girth. Above me, Annette growled and tensed. As I drew back, flesh
sliding against flesh, she grasped the hair at the base of my head
and pulled me forward again. The show of force ignited a flare of
passion in my belly, and I found myself grabbing her muscular
thighs, pulling her toward me with every thrust.

Just as her
breath roughened into a new rhythm, she said, "No more." She
grasped my hair and pulled me away, her cock springing from my
mouth with drips of saliva. I cried out.

Annette pushed
me back into the bed, and suddenly she was over me, limbs caging
me, hot chest low over mine. "I want to save some for you," she
grated, huskily, and kissed me on the mouth—sucking, pulling. The
round tip of her cock poked, then slid, against the slick,
voluptuous flesh between my legs. With some astonishment, I
realized that I was very, very wet. She smoothed the stray, wet
strands of hair from my forehead with her warm hands and said, "I
want you to feel like a woman where it counts."

To accentuate
her words, Annette dipped her hips and ground her cock against me.
I had opened my mouth to say something, but only a wordless garble
came out as the length of her slid deliciously over my folds, and I
shuddered almost violently. She was smiling at me underneath the
dark moustache and was thumbing my cheeks with the broad pads of
her thumbs. Again and again, she slipped against me, drawing
pleasure and desire from me in long strokes.

I had never—
Oh, but I wanted—

"
Annette,
" I
said, a strained whisper.

She
smiled, and kissed me, and slid against me. I cried into her mouth.
My nose was filled with the masculine scent of her—the salt of
sweat, the musk of man. When our lips parted, she pulled her head
back to lap first one nipple, and then the other. "Are you
ready...wife?" she—oh,
he
—asked in a
throaty rumble.

His
head rested just against my clitoris, causing a single point of
white-hot
need
to kindle
and grow. I could barely think for it. He tapped once, twice, with
his cock. A wave of mindless lust screamed through me.

I bucked
against him, seeking, thrusting, but he raised his hips so that he
was ever just out of reach, only gently touching. Panting, I fell
still.

"Tell me you
want it, Jeremy," he said.

If I did not,
I would go mad. I felt the edge of hysteria. I grit my teeth, then
said, "I want it."

That wolfish
upturn of his lips. "Be naughty to me, Jeremy."

I stared at
him with wide eyes. I paused, then exhaled and whispered, "Fuck
me."

His grin grew.
"Yes," he breathed, licking my lips with a quick, lupine flick of
his tongue. He pulled back, and when he thrust forward, his cock
slid into me—stretching me, impaling me.

My breath
caught and I stared up at him, slack-jawed. He hovered, unmoving,
as he watched my face. Gaze fixed on mine, he drew back and
advanced again—slowly, torturously. Again, he repeated the
movement, while every muscle in my body tensed and trembled. Then,
he stuck me with a quick, deep thrust. When he pulled back slowly,
every nerve grabbed out for him. I closed my eyes and sighed,
shudderingly. I opened them again to find him studying me. His eyes
were hungry. He was playing with me.

I
could not take it. "
Fuck me
," I
grated. "Fuck me
now
." I
grabbed his ass in my hands and pulled down on his hips,
savagely.

With a grunt
and a coarse laugh, he thrust deeply again, then again, and again.
It stole my breath.

"Is
this what you want, vixen?" he growled, and impaled me again. I
couldn't speak to reply, only tightened my grip on his ass until he
began fuck me—
really
fuck
me. He thrust into me rhythmically until I shifted up and down in
the sheets, the bed rocked, and his thighs slapped against
mine.

His
breath heaved like a bellows. Having found my voice, I cried out,
long and loud. Above me, Annette grunted and pounded into me, his
pace quickening as my voice deepened with desperation. I
wanted
him. I
wanted
him
in
me
like
this—deeper, faster, breath,
sweat.

The heat
between us grew, damp and tremoring. I could feel him grow harder
inside of me, somehow more substantial. More imminent.

The
hungry, burning
need
grew
warmer and spread up my belly and over my thighs. Then, too, a
tingling began, following wherever the warmth had gone, but slower
and pleasantly ominous. I sensed an approaching brink.

"Say it," he
ground.

The
need
demanded
that I say the words. Gustily, I said, "Fuck me! Annette, fuck me!"
Then, "I want you to come inside me!"

The tingling
spread, and suddenly, it was all crashing over me and I was crying
out and spasming beneath him. The muscles in my lower abdomen
clenched and unclenched uncontrollably.

Annette howled
and then went hoarse, collapsing over me. He panted,
spent.

After a time,
Annette rolled from me and lay at my side. One hand rested on my
breast, petting and pressing idly. I was still almost painfully
swollen, but already the desire began to stir in me
again.

"I knew you
would like it," Annette said, almost drowsily. His finger twirled
around my nipple, causing it to pucker. Fires that had been banked
began to slowly smolder between my legs. Lazily, lovingly, he began
to squeeze my soft breast. He said, "We will have such a good time
together. I know it."

Puzzled, I
looked at him. He smiled at me, so very sweetly. He said, "This
isn't just a dream, Jeremy. This was not the real surprise. Mr.
Foster’s machine does more than transplant dreams. It can transport
souls." He reached out to brush the backs of his fingers against my
cheek, oh so gentle. The gesture was comforting, possessive, and
sweetly...masculine. It both relaxed and scared me, but did nothing
to my returning lust except fan the flames. He said, "The orgasm
completed it, darling." Rolling onto his elbows, Annette leaned
down to kiss me. His hand squeezed my breast again—this time, not
lazily. "This is your new body, Jeremy," he said, smoothly mounting
me again. "Surprise."