My fantasy woman….

She’s in the kitchen starting to cook. I walk in and wrap my arms around her in a hug, nonchalantly grabbing her boobs while smiling playfully. She smiles unseen; she’s come to expect this kind of playfulness, and knows how to deal it back in kind. She tells me I’m just in time to help her cook, smirking now at the mild disappointment on my face. We both knew it would go this way though, by now we’ve been together long enough to know how to expect each other to react.
Smiling, I say “Maybe I had something else in mind.”
“I know exactly what you had in mind” she replies, smirking again.
“I was just thinking maybe we order a pizza.”
“Yeah, that’s what you were thinking about.”
“Even if it weren’t, you have no proof I was thinking about anything else.”
“You think so, huh? What about where your hands are?”
“What? I can’t even hug you without you thinking that’s on my mind?”
But we both know I want her. I always want her. So many years together and that’s never changed. But she knows I respect her; maybe that’s what turns her on these days. She knows even when I push I’d never do anything without her consent, I love her too much to do anything like that.
“Now help me make dinner” she says, as though she’d let me refuse. Which of course means I have to play fight her.
“I’m so terribly tired from work, I don’t know how much longer I can stay on my feet.”
She smirks, and I know she’s going to use whatever I say next against me. “Oh really? So you must be too tired to do anything else before we get some sleep tonight too?”
“I didn’t say that, just that I don’t know about being on my feet.”
“Great!” she says, “You can sit right over there and peel potatoes.”
I give her a sideways grin. She always looks so smug when she wins. Call me smitten, but it looks cute on her. But she’s always been beautiful to me. But it was her inner beauty that made me fall in love with her.
She’s kind to strangers, she listens to people, she loves with everything she has and everything she is. She has a way of bringing out the best in people.
We’re older now, and while her inner beauty grows daily, she can’t help but watch her physical beauty fade. It breaks my heart she can’t see what I see. She says I’m biased, and maybe I am, but I think she’s more beautiful every day. She sees the wrinkles creep up slowly, or a little bit of dinner stay with her around her belly and she thinks her beauty is fading. But not to me. I couldn’t love her more. But then, I’ve said that before.
I sit and start peeling potatoes, but it’s not long before she catches me stealing looks at her. “Can’t stop thinking about getting me huh?”, she asks. I smile. There’s some truth to those words, but it’s more than that. She’s beautiful in a way I’m not sure she’s ever known she is, and it radiates from every pore. Not even her freckles, scars, or even her wrinkles could hide it. I’d tell her as much, but she’d laugh it off like she always has. Besides, what words could do justice to what I see in her? Better to let my eyes do the talking. I think she knows how to read my eyes anyway, something in them must tell her the truth in what I say I see in her.

After dinner I do the dishes. If she cooks for me, it’s only fair I clean for her. After that though, I renew my efforts to seduce her. No doubt she’d give it right up if I asked, but I know she enjoys the chase as much as I.

The next day we sleep in. When we finally wake up, I playfully slap her bottom. “Uh oh, round two?” she asks.

I laugh and say “Up to you”, but I know she doesn’t want to. Instead I kiss her and snuggle closer. She sighs contentedly, but says I need to get up and fix the shed outside.

“Buzzkill”, I tease. She laughs.

There’s nothing extra special about the day. We’re at home, it’s a regular Saturday, to the world it’s just another day. But there’s something special about just laying here enjoying each other’s companionship; knowing you love and respect one another, that there’s an unbreakable loyalty between you. She could break your heart in an instant, but you know she won’t.

——-

She’s in the living room doodling when I get home from work today. She loves doodling, even on my RC helicopters. I can’t really complain, even when she uses colors like pink and purple she does a fantastic job of it. The guys like to make fun when I fly the pink and purple “Fairecopter” as she likes to call it. I know they’re a little jealous though. Not of the helicopter but the nature of our relationship.

She barely notices my entry, but gives a tiny smirk and goes back to her doodling. Drawing on another of my RC helicopters I see. I just shake my head but I can’t help smile as I toss my keys and wallet in the bowl on my way to the kitchen.

I grab a beer, pop the top, and pull a few draughts before leaning against the counter. It’s my turn to make dinner. Unfortunately, I have no idea what to make and I’m not really feeling in the mood for it either. So I sit there. And then I think to myself I should really just make something. But my body doesn’t just magically start moving on its own, which is probably a good thing realistically, but it means I sit there a few more minutes.

After what seems like an eternity, but has only been about fifteen minutes, I manage to push myself off the counter, take another drink before setting my beer on the counter, and start rummaging through the pantry and fridge. Nothing sounds good. I’d probably go hungry, but she needs to eat too.

I pull out some chicken and set it on the counter. I have no idea what to make with it, but it makes a good base. Cheese is almost always good so I set that out too. A vegetable is usually in order, but I pause as I reach for a can of green beans. I’ve had enough green beans, carrots, and corn to last me another lifetime. ‘No, not green beans’ I think to myself. I open the fridge to see what we have. The fresh spinach practically jumps out at me, so I grab it.

I look at what I have so far. Chicken, cheese, and spinach. I don’t want salad, so I’ll have to incorporate everything together. I try to think of something, but my brain just feels fuzzy and it’s not the beer. I look over and see the fresh tomatoes from the garden. I hate raw tomato, but she loves them.

‘Maybe I can make a sauce’ I think. Picking five of the ripest ones, I set them on the spinach. Like a lightning bolt it hits me, and I know what I’m going to make her. From the pantry I grab the rice, flour, some spices, and a few other ingredients. I grab butter and milk from the fridge, and a skillet and pan from the cabinet.

I mix the butter until soft, add a touch of milk, and then the flour, salt, and baking powder. Next I season until I think it’s just right, pull it out, and divide it into seven balls. I roll the balls out into tortillas and throw the first one in the skillet and set it to cooking.

While the tortillas are waiting to cook I grab the tomatoes and dice them, putting them in the saucepan to boil. I put the rice in a large bowl and grab a cutting board and knife to start cutting the chicken. As the tortillas finish I wash my hands, put the finished tortillas on a plate, and start the next before returning to the chicken.

Soon all the tortillas are done, the chicken is sliced, and the tomatoes have reduced to a sauce. I add spices to the tomatoes, stir, and cover before beginning to shred the spinach. Afterwards, I add the spinach to the tomato sauce and stir. As I’m waiting for the sauce to finish she pokes her head around the corner. “It smells amazing in here,” she says.

“I always smell this good,” I say with a smirk.

“I know,” she says, scrunching her nose. She laughs. I laugh too. “What are you making?” she asks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? I’ll give you a hint, it has tomato in it.”

“And chicken and rice from the looks of it.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny such allegations at the present time.”

“You’re an idiot,” she accuses, smiling.

“Takes one to know one.” Now I laugh.

“Are you calling me an idiot?” She tries to look aghast at the insinuation, but is only half successful at pulling it off through her mirth.

“I said nothing of the sort. Merely that it would take an idiot to know one.” She mock glares at me. “Besides which, I don’t like your accusations,” I say, mocking indignation.

“You watch yourself mister, you’re asking for it.”

“I’m always asking for it,” I respond with a not un-self-satisfied grin.

She smiles, giving me a studying look. “That you are.”

I stir the sauce which has finally finished and add half of the cheese, which only takes a minute to melt. I remove it from the heat and glance up at her, trying and failing to suppress an ear to ear grin that’s only going to get me in trouble.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re making?”

“Nope!” I chuckle.

“Fine, I’ll just pester you until you do.”

“Maybe I’ll like that.”

“Maybe I’ll leave and you’ll have to cook alone.”

“Maybe that’s what I wanted.”

She turns to walk away.

“No, wait!” I exclaim. She turns back and grins. She knew I wanted her to stay.

“Nevermind,” I say, but I know I’ve already revealed my hand.

“What?” she asks.

Recovering, I ask “Don’t you know curiosity killed the cat?”

“Then it’s a very good thing I’m not a cat, isn’t it?”

‘Damn,’ I think, ‘She got that from me.’ Not to give up, I reply “I don’t know. Maybe not a feline, but a human cat maybe? I mean, you like to take naps during the day, you like back rubs but you hate your belly messed with, and you like to bite and claw.”

“That doesn’t count.” She pauses, “And you like it.” I chuckle. There’s no use denying it, and she would probably stop for awhile if I did.

“So what are you making?” she asks again.

“Tomato and cheesy chicken soup” I tell her.

“You hate soup, and what about the rice?” A small grin slowly spreads across her face.

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Well fine, if you must know, I had an idea with enchiladas.”

“I usually like your ideas.” She winks. I can’t help but chuckle mischievously.

We chat while I mix the chicken and rice in with the tomato and cheese. I start melting the rest of the cheese with some milk while I wrap the tortillas around the chicken mixture and place them in a baking pan. I turn on the oven which I’d forgotten about. After the cheese melts, I pour it over the enchiladas and put them in the oven to bake, adding a few minutes for the oven to heat.

I grab us both a beer and we step outside to sit on the patio to visit. Before long we’ve grown silent and I slide my fingers between hers. She smiles and says, “I missed you today.”

I smile back. “I missed you too.” I know she means it and would even if she didn’t have more on her mind. She gives me a look and I smile wider. Now I know she knows I know what’s on her mind. I squeeze her hand and she pulls me closer. I kiss her and before we know it we’re making out like we were teenagers. A few minutes into our makeout session the oven timer goes off. She groans, and I pop off with “Yeah, baby.” She rolls her eyes and we head inside to eat.

After we eat we discuss ideas on how to improve the meal next time. It’s become a common occurrence for us to do this. It’s our way to improve both of our cooking skills and our recipes, and we’ve both benefited greatly as a result. Especially where our taste buds are concerned.

We discuss our day and she tells me all about her day. I love hearing about it, especially when she gets excited and starts to animate it with her hands. After our conversation I give her a mischievous grin which she returns in kind. I move to kiss her but she puts up a finger before our lips meet. She loves playing hard to get; it drives me wild and that drives her wild. So I kiss her finger.

She giggles and it’s just encouragement to keep playing. So I kiss the base of her finger, then the tips of her curled up fingers, and then the inside of her wrist; never breaking eye contact and smiling from ear to ear the whole time. There’s something playful yet profoundly intimate about it. And I can tell she’s close to giving in. I pause; I want her to be able to tell how much I love her, how much I want her. She gives me a warm smile that touches her eyes. It’s small, but it speak volumes and I know she understands. As if to refute physical possibility, my already huge smile grows ever so little and so does hers.

********

I could kiss her lips, but I’ve already started playfully kissing and I don’t dare even imagine robbing us both the fun of that. Instead I slowly kiss my way up her forearm to her elbow, bicep, shoulder, collarbone, and neck, pausing to graze her neck with my teeth, giving her a taste of anticipation for things to come. Kissing up her jaw just left and below her chin, hovering a hair’s breadth away from her lips before I start down the other side. She sighs, and I know how bad she wants that kiss, but I’m building up the suspense.

After I reach her other hand I work my way back up to her neck, this time working my way from her jaw down the front of her neck to the center of her collarbone. From there I kiss down her left side pulling off her shirt to continue until I reach her waist, whereupon I unbutton her pants and help her out of them to be able to proceed down to her ankle, around to the inside of her ankle, and slowly up. At her lower thigh I begin to gently nibble while I kiss her. Her body starts to quiver. I slowly move up to her upper thigh. Once there I tantalizingly run my tongue up the crease between her thigh and her vulva. She practically melts.

She grabs hold of my forearm and reflexively digs her nails in. I chuckle, then continue kissing up to just below her navel and back down the other side, this time running my tongue down in the crease between her thigh and vulva. It elicits more nail digging. I can barely stand how much she’s enjoying this. I’m loving every second of it, every sigh, every tremor of her body. I want her like the desert sand wants water, but I commit myself to pacing myself. I begin kissing down her leg and back up the outside until I am once again at the base of her neck.

I kiss down her sternum, intentionally ignoring her supple breasts, to her belly button. I run my hands from her hips up her sides using my thumbs to trace the undersides of her breasts. I kiss back up to her neck.

“Such a tease” she says.

“I learned it all from you” I quickly pop back. She chuckles.

I kiss her lips softly at first, enjoying the sensation, but as we kiss our passion grows as does the intensity of our kissing. I begin gently rocking back and forth. She trembles. I reach down and cup her buttock, squeezing. Lightly dragging my nails across her skin I move my hand across her thigh, slowing as I come closer and closer to her vagina. The anticipation is driving her wild.

After what must feel like an eternity, my finger finally arrives over her vulva. I gently begin to caress her clitoris, and her body shivers with both relief and renewed desire.

Gradually I speed up my caressing, adding slightly more pressure as she gets into it. She writhes in pleasure as she builds closer and closer to orgasm. I continue to kiss her as I run my other hand through her hair. She arches her back as she starts orgasming. It lasts about twenty seconds.

“I’m not done” I whisper, grinning. She smiles uncertain, but curious. I kiss her, then move up her cheek to her ear and down to her neck. I proceed to kiss down her sternum to her navel, removing her bra and panties with my hands as I move onward down to her clitoris where I start massaging gently with my tongue.

“Mmmm…” she moans, which elicits a smile from me.

My tongue curves around contouring to the shape of her oh so small pleasure spot, stroking the sides at first until it becomes firm again. After that I start directly on it, flicking my tongue up and down while maintaining pressure. With my left hand I caress her breasts, sides, and stomach. With my right hand I gently insert my fore and middle fingers to rub her g-spot from the inside. Within a minute she’s breathing heavily.

Increasing the pressure and speed causes her to clinch the sheets in her hands and arch her back. It makes it harder to use my fingers, but does nothing to hamper my tongue. Before I know it I feel the tell-tell squeeze of her legs on my head and I know she’s getting close. I could speed up again, but I don’t want to overdo it so I keep the rhythm steady. My hand starts to cramp, and I tell myself I need to keep going for just another minute.

Not long after she starts to orgasm again and her legs squeeze down on my head like a vice. As uncomfortable as it is, I always love this part because I know how pleasurable it is for her. I can feel her vaginal walls contracting and relaxing repeatedly and this time the orgasm lasts closer to forty seconds. As I pull my hand away I decide to bite her left thigh. She moans in equal parts pleasure and pain.

“You’ve gotten a little better since last time” she comments.

“I aim to please” I respond, smirking.

“That you do” she says, smiling.

I find myself gingerly kissing her body, first where I bit her thigh, down and back up each leg, all over her stomach and sides, then her breasts and up to her neck. We spend a couple minutes just kissing. I could kiss her several hours a day for the rest of my life and never grow tired of it. There’s just not enough time in the day. While we’re kissing she starts unbuttoning my shirt and pulls it off, then unbuttons my pants.

“Lose the pants” she demands. I smile like a kid that’s just been handed a hundred dollar bill in a candy store and been told to go nuts.

“So fiesty” I laugh.

She gives me a devilish grin that puts even mine to shame. So I pull off my pants carefully leaving my boxers to tease her, but she’s used to this kind of teasing and manages to pull them down and halfway off before I can react. I like it when she gets like this, confident and a little demanding. She’s every bit my equal.

She grins at me like an innocent young lady and I can’t help laugh at the sudden change in demeanor. I lay on top of her, but I don’t insert my penis yet. Instead I kiss her while running one hand through her hair and the other over her body and begin to hump her to drive her crazy. It works.

I tease her along until she can’t stand it any longer. She reaches down, grabs my hard penis, and guides it inside her warm, wet pussy. She takes a sharp, deep breath. I exhale a sigh of relief. We both wanted this badly, but the buildup makes it that much better. She wraps her arms around me, digging her nails into my back. There’s a sting as her nails bury in followed by warmth and pleasure. I smack her ass hard, leaving a giant red handprint. She gasps.

I start slow, only penetrating a couple inches. She feels amazing; wet and firm but soft. She runs her hands across my body. She knows what she wants, but she’s only got two hands. I gradually penetrate further and further until I’m fully inside her. She practically gasps every time I thrust. I lower my hips to angle my penis up towards her g-spot. It’s a trick I learned long ago that always serves us well.

I pace myself to last. The last thing I want to do is come before she does. I thrust at a steady rate. I can tell she’s getting close, and I grab her right breast with my left hand and caress. I use my mouth to suck on her left nipple and stroke it with my tongue, and I dig my right fingers into her butt cheek. As she starts to orgasm, I reach up and pull her hair with my left hand. She screams my name, and it’s music to my ears.

Her orgasm racks her entire body. As it subsides I slow down and kiss her sensually. I love this woman so. After a brief cooldown period we get hot and heavy again, and more than a little rough. She rolls us over and climbs on top; I always love when she gets on top. It’s not long before she comes again and then collapses on the bed next to me.

“I’m exhausted” she says, to which I respond, “My turn then?”

“Mmhmm” she affirms.

‘We haven’t done doggy in a while’ I think to myself. So I help her roll onto her stomach and get her knees under her. She helps guide my penis to her pussy and I wrap one arm around her waist while I reach the other around to grab a breast. I let myself go crazy, after all, I’ve been waiting for this.

I thrust hard and fast. Sometimes I like to reach a hand around and stimulate her clit, but not tonight. Now it’s my hands that can’t get enough. I move them up her sides, down to her waist, use them to pull her back into me, pull her hair, play with her boobs, smack her ass, and then do it all again. She comes again before I do, but I’m hot on her heels. As I’m about to explode inside her, I put my hands on the bed, locking my forearms with her waist- giving me complete leverage with which to thrust.

As I orgasm my mind blanks except for this moment with her. It’s one of the stronger orgasms I’ve had in awhile owing mostly to the time I spent spoiling her. I feel it clear to the tips of my fingers and toes and my eyes unfocus and want to roll backward. As it stops I pull out and we both collapse together.

I pull her close and she lays her head on my chest while I stroke her hair. I kiss her forehead and she nuzzles close. We’re both breathing heavily and our hearts are pounding, but we’re together and we’re happy. And that’s all that matters. Soon our hearts and breathing slow and she announces she’s hungry again. I chuckle.

“We just had dessert” I say.

“It wasn’t very filling” she teases.

“Bitch.” I laugh.

“And a damn good one at that!” she brags.

She climbs up to get out of bed and I playfully smack her ass again. She giggles, pulls on her panties, and heads for the kitchen topless. I follow, putting on my boxers as I do.

“What sounds good?” I ask, coming around the corner. She’s already got the cheesecake I made yesterday out of the fridge and is cutting us a couple pieces. I slide behind her and give her a hug. This amazing woman is mine and I love her. We eat our cheesecake, brush our teeth, and head to bed. The night is over, but I’ll cherish it forever.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/lwzd1v/my_fantasy_woman