Dream Woman.

	
Chapter one.

	She visited me again tonight. Like she had done before. I think she has 
been here at least 6 or 7 times, but never on two consecutive nights. She 
may have been here more often, but in the beginning I did not really notice 
her. She was just one in a long line of women, who visited my dreams. And 
like the others, I may not really have noticed her at all. When I woke up, 
all I could remember about them was: Did they have small tits or big tits, 
hairy pussy or shaved? They all had open thighs and wet, willing slits to 
receive my cock without any comments. Actually rather monotonous, I should 
say, but apparently their arrivals were synchronised with my hormone 
production, and they never failed to satisfy my dreams and make me wake up 
in a sticky pyjamas and rumbled sheets.

	One night I noticed her. As a woman, that is. She had a kind smile on her 
pretty face, and I judged her to be somewhere in her forties, which would 
make her about ten years my senior. For the first time I looked one of my 
nightly visitors into her eyes. Phew. She had large greenish-brown eyes with 
a slightly sleepy and highly erotic slant. A fine net of wrinkles seemed to 
make them wider. They were eyes to loose your sanity in. As she stepped 
closer, in my dream, I appreciated her body. Small tits with upturned 
nipples, which had no need whatsoever of the flimsy bra, which encased them. 
Her beautiful flat tummy was crowned by a prominent naked mons. All of it 
framed by a lacy suspender belt and black stockings. From there on I lost 
it, she became just another dream fuck, leaving me sticky and relaxed in the 
morning.

	She visited me twice in that outfit: Bra, suspenders and stockings. That 
was highly unusual. My nightly visitors had been one night stands all of 
them, as far as I could say, but then again, I had only been interested in 
their tits and their pussies, and the number of varieties is not that huge.

	On her third visit my Dream Woman wore a slinky, diamond-blue cocktail 
dress. God, she looked ravishing. That pale blue, shimmering silk, her 
almost olive-brown skin, greenish-brown eyes and her head of dark brown, 
almost black hair! What a tasty symphony of colours. And she talked to me! 
In my dream. "Hello, Gene, have you missed me?" She stretched her arms above 
her head and made a twirl. "Do you like my new dress? It's so thin I can't 
wear anything under it." And then she did what most of my other visitors had 
done: She lifted her skirt, straddled me, and enveloped my hard cock with 
her hot, tingling pussy.

	I did not do anything to change things, but every time something was 
different. About a month ago she visited me, dressed in very stylish suit. 
"Hello, Gene. I've booked a table for us, and I hope you'll let me invite 
you to dinner." For the first time I noticed that her voice was deep and 
low. I was fast asleep, but somehow I had a very interesting and animated 
conversation with this beautiful woman about one of my favourite subjects: 
Beethoven's symphonies and how they are interpreted by different conductors, 
plus a host of other subjects.

	Apparently she was a highly intelligent and educated person, and yet she 
surprised me immensely by the end of our meal, when her face lit up in a 
big, provocative smile, and she opened her jacket to show me her lovely, 
small breasts. She seemed not to care one bit, if the other guests or the 
waiters were looking. She covered up again, smiled and said: "And now, dear 
Gene, you are going to take me home and fuck the life out of me."

	I am happy to say that I did so. She was hot, willing, wet and delicious. I 
woke up Sunday morning two hours later than usual, sticky all over and 
tired, and I could not remember one tenth of the things we did in bed. One 
thing I do remember, though. In my dream she had fucked me wonderfully 
wicked, but when I wanted a fourth round my cock refused to cooperate. She 
chuckled a little and smiled: "Take it easy, Gene, I'll persuade him."  She 
warmed the head in her mouth for a while, and then she rolled back my 
foreskin and tickled the underside with the tip of her tongue. And last, but 
certainly not least, she put her pointed tongue to my asshole and licked it, 
stuck her tongue a little bit inside, licked again.....and suddenly my cock 
was back to his old strength. For the first time since she came to me, she 
rolled over to lie on her back, spread her legs wide and invited me in.

	I was really spooked. What the hell was happening to me? I was falling in 
love with a woman who did not exist, a woman who was at least ten years 
older than me, and yet I thought she was incredibly beautiful and sexy. She 
was bright and cultivated, and all the times she had visited me she had been 
warm and caring, she had been willing, wet, and a little kinky. And yet I 
did not even have a name for her. That Sunday morning I decided to call her 
Mary, when I was thinking of her, which I did more and more frequently.

	And when she turned up this night, saying her usual "Hello, Gene." I 
answered: "Hello, Mary."

	Her answer was a pearly, ringing laughter. "Oh, dear, I never told you my 
name? Don't you think `Mary' is a bit too virginal for me? I should be sorry 
if that's the impression you've got of me."

	"Heavens, no. I never thought of you as virginal. But I had to give you a 
name for the times I daydream of you."

	"Thank you, dear Sir, that you daydream of me. That's a compliment. Then 
I've better tell you my real name. It's `Alexandra'. And by the way, I hate 
when people call me Alex."

	"OK, Alexandra it is. What have you got for me tonight"?

	"I've got a bottle of wine and a few snacks in my car. And a blanket. I'd 
like to take you for a ride, and I'd like to fuck you out in the open on 
this lovely spring night, if we find a private place." As we crossed the 
valley, which divides our town into two, she pointed vaguely to the northern 
slope and said: "I live over there."

	We were about 20 minutes out of town when she slowed down and took a turn 
into the wood. When she finally stopped, her car could not be seen from the 
road. "I know a place in here. Will you carry the basket, then I'll take the 
blanket and the lamp." She walked ahead of me down a narrow path, and 
suddenly a small opening appeared. She spread out the blanket and knelt to 
light up the small kerosene lamp. She patted the blanket with her right 
hand, so I set down the basket, and a little later myself.

	"Please, pour us a couple of glasses of wine, while I get comfortable. You 
know, it's still too early in the spring for the mosquitoes to be out." She 
pulled off her coat, which left her pretty breasts to be seen behind a see 
through black shirt. Then she wriggled out of her skirt. No suspenders this 
time. A G-string and stay-up stockings. I was mesmerised by the beautiful 
sight. She noticed, and laughed at me: "I see you like what you see. You 
haven't even uncorked the bottle, yet." I hurried to open the bottle and 
pour two crystal glasses full. When I turned to hand her one, she had sat 
down on the blanket, Indian style, presenting me to the wonderful sight of 
the G-string disappearing between her pouted lips. She stretched out the 
other hand and said: "Let me hold yours while you get out of your clothes." 
When I was down to my Y-fronts I was going to sit down, but she stopped me. 
"Oh, no, I want to see if you like me. Get them off."

	Finally we had both settled down. She raised her glass to toast me. I blew 
her a kiss over the rim of the glass. "God, you're so beautiful. This wine 
is a fine compliment to you."

	"You don't mind I'm a bit older than you?"

	"Heavens, no. You are prettier and bolder than any woman I've met up to 
now."

	"Of course I am. I'm your dream woman, you know. I'm the sum of all the 
women you've dreamed of. Not the ones you needed just for a wet and willing 
pussy, mind you. I've got that, too, but I'm also the sum of the real women 
you dreamed of."

	"Is that why I think I'm falling in love with you?"

	"Poor Gene. You know that can't be, don't you? I'm your dream woman. I can 
see you are getting excited, but I think we should talk a little more. Move 
over here." She opened her legs and begged me closer. When I was very close 
she moved her legs up across mine, till my cockhead was pushing against the 
gusset of her G-string. Slowly she pulled the string aside and guided the 
tip of my cock into her opening. God, she was wet and warm. I had expected 
her to impale herself on me, but she stopped moving as soon as the head was 
buried in her warm cunt. Instead she threw her arms round my neck and buried 
her head at my shoulder.

	It was the first time ever that I had been in that position: Sitting 
upright with the tip of my cock buried in a lovely woman. How on earth could 
that come from my own imagination?

	"Gene, you have to forget about being in love with me. I'm only a dream. 
I'm the woman you'd like to meet in real life."

	"Alexandra, you're the loveliest woman I've met, dreams or real life."

	"I know. You've been too busy with just tits and pussy, dear Gene. That's 
why you have never fallen in love. Even in your dreams you just wanted a 
good fuck with no obligations. Isn't that true?"

	"Sure. I've been much to busy building a career. You're the only woman from 
my dreams that I have noticed, and the only one I've daydreamed about. Not 
to mention the women I've known in real life."

	"Well, have you any complaints about the sex? Were those nameless cunts any 
better?" She chuckled a little, and suddenly I felt the opening of her 
lovely cunt suck me, as if it was a mouth. A little later she fucked me with 
the tiniest movements ever, and yet she sent flaming waves of passion 
through my body.

	"Heavens, no, Alexandra. You're the best ever."

	"That's what I want to be, Gene, your best ever. Do you know why?"

	"No."

	"I want you to know what you should be looking for in real life, because 
this is the last time I visit you." She let go of my neck and pushed me 
backwards, till I was lying stretched out on the blanket. Without breaking 
contact with my cock she moved up to straddle me, her knees down on the 
blanket and her lovely torso and beautiful face towering over me. Then she 
started fucking me. Not like she had done before. This time her movements 
were languid and erotic. Slow, slow movements up and down. She supported 
herself with her left hand on my chest, while she masturbated herself. Did 
she have 3 or 4 orgasms? I do not know, I only know that each of them sent a 
gush of sweet-smelling juice down on my cock.

	I wondered how she managed to prevent me from coming, but she did. After 
her last orgasm she leaned forward and tenderly kissed my eyes and my lips. 
"Goodbye, dear Gene. This was my last visit. Remember to look for me."

	Her last words made me so sorry that I woke up. For the first time in ages 
I had a hard on. No sticky pyjamas, no rumbled sheets. But I was consumed by 
a feeling of sadness, so heavy that even my hard on collapsed.


Chapter two.

	I wrote down the account of my dreams, in an attempt to get over the 
sadness, which filled me. She never visited me again. For a couple of nights 
some of the women from the time before Alexandra visited me, but their 
mechanical `fuck me and get your release' attitude did nothing to me now. I 
wanted Alexandra and no one else.

	When three months had passed in this highly unsatisfactory way, I began 
noticing the women in my surroundings. At work, in the supermarket, at my 
local café. I have to admit that I really had not done this before. I mean, 
noticing them as women, not as available fucks. Also, I have to admit, it is 
a pitiful proof of my shallow attitude that I had been fully satisfied by 
the tits and pussies of my dreams and the empty one night stands of the 
fleshpots. Kind of like I had been in a prolonged puberty.

I felt drawn towards a couple of the women I met. They had one thing in 
common: They were older than me, they were bright and a lot of fun, but 
unfortunately they were both married and sent out not a single signal of 
`come and get me'.

	In my despair I took to roaming the northern slope of the valley, which cut 
our town in two. Alexandra had said she lived there. For Heaven's sake, she 
was a product of my dreams. How could I expect she existed in real life, 
too? But I didn't know what else to do. Every afternoon, when I had finished 
work, I roamed the streets of that neighbourhood for an hour or so, before I 
turned my car towards home. One night, returning from yet another futile 
ride, I passed what looked like the restaurant Alexandra had invited me to. 
Their parking lot was almost full, signifying that the restaurant might be, 
too, but I decided to try anyway.

	"I'm sorry, sir, we're fully booked," the waiter at the reception desk 
said. When he saw how disappointed I looked, he added:"We have one seat at a 
table for two. If you don't mind having another person at your table, I 
might go and ask how the occupant of that table feels about it."

	"I'd be most grateful."

	He returned  after a few minutes. "The other customer says it's OK. Please 
follow me."

	We zigzagged through the restaurant to a table at the back window. My heart 
almost stopped. From a distance I thought she was Alexandra. When we came up 
to the table I could see she was not, but the resemblance was striking. Same 
age, same slender figure, a beautiful face crowned by a head of black hair, 
as opposed to Alexandra's deep brown.

	I reached out my hand:"Good evening. I'm Gene Sliman. Thank you for 
allowing me to sit at your table."

	She flashed me a bright smile. "You're welcome. It's not that much fun to 
dine alone. I'm Vivi Greene."

	Heavens. She was so easy to talk to. When I had made my selection from the 
dinner menu, we joked that I had chosen the same as she had. When the 
background music started on `Für Elise' it inspired us to talks about 
Beethoven (my favourite subject) and music in general. It turned out that 
she had been a professional pianist for 15 years, mostly in chamber music, 
but she had stopped 8 years ago. And of course I had to admit that I was a 
fairly good amateur violinist, but that I had never played professionally. 
She had dropped out of the music environment for a short-lived marriage, and 
she had found it difficult to get back in, professionally.

	The next couple of hours flew by as if they were minutes. When we had had 
our coffee I asked her: "I'd really hate to think that this is our only 
meeting. Would you please allow me to book this table for two next Saturday, 
same time?"

	"What a lovely idea. I'd sure like that."

	Her sweet smile almost killed me. Just before we made ready to leave, I 
reached over the table, took her hand in mine and pressed a light kiss on 
the back of it. "Thank you for a lovely evening," I said, "I shall look 
forward to Saturday."

	"Thank you. I shall do the same."

Chapter three.

	I waited for her in the hall, but I did not have to wait for long. Right on 
time I saw her emerge from her car. She looked ravishing, and when she had 
handed her short fur coat to the waiter, I could see that she was wearing 
one of my favourites: A slinky, shiny, olive green silk dress clinging to 
her slender frame.

	Once again dinner was a success. The conversation was witty and spirited, 
and we even covered a few personal topics. I told her, how my ambitions had 
led me to hard work, which had consumed me to a degree where I had no 
craving for a mate. Not until recently. I had landed the job I wanted, a 
well paid head of administration in a medium sized company, which I could 
handle without much effort, leaving me plenty of time and energy to start 
caring for myself.

	After dinner we went for a walk in the park surrounding the restaurant. I 
slipped my arm round her waist as we walked. She felt so strong and yet 
resilient, that I was infatuated. During the walk she told me a little more 
about herself. She had left her career for an unfortunate marriage, which 
was ruined by jealousy, musically as well as sexually. Fortunately they had 
had no children, and now she was on her own, earning her living teaching 
piano lessons plus the odd gigs in the more humble concert halls. When we 
decided to go back in for a cup of coffee, she turned towards me, reached 
her arm behind my head and pressed a soft, delicious kiss on my lips. My 
hands roamed her back and her sides while she kissed me. It was obvious to 
me that she was naked under her dress. I checked out once more, letting my 
hands roam her. She broke our kiss and laughed: "Right you are, Sir. There 
is nothing under it. I love this dress, but it is so thin that it reveals 
any kind of underwear, and it's a lot more provocative if I wear some. I 
hope you don't mind."

	"How could I? You are so beautiful. I could only imagine you looking better 
if it wasn't there at all."

	She laughed again. "I bet you'd like to see that, wouldn't you?"

	"I certainly would."

	She kissed me again, pressing her body against mine. Then she whispered 
into my ear: "You will if you want. But this park is not the right place, is 
it?"

	"Quite a bit too public to my taste Vivi."

	"Mine too. Let's go and have our coffee and then see what the rest of the 
evening will bring."

	During coffee she obviously flirted with me, and it was not made any better 
by the fact that my palms seemed to remember every curve of her body under 
that slinky dress.

	"I'm sorry I haven't got a piano at home. If I had, I should try the old 
trick and ask you to come along to play a sonata or two."

	She laughed that kind laughter once more. "Well, as long as I know it's a 
trick, I might not offend you if I did the same? I've got a grand piano at 
home AND a violin, although I can't guarantee the quality. It's playable, 
though."

	I grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. "I'd love to give it a try."

	I followed her car out town centre, up the slopes of the northern side of 
the valley, and soon we turned into the drive of a small modern house. We 
had barely entered the hall, when she slipped her fur coat off her shoulders 
and stepped away from it to embrace me and press a hot kiss on my lips. I 
was all dizzy from emotions and lust. I know it was my longing for 
Alexandra, my dream woman, which had guided me to this beautiful, warm 
creature, but after that kiss there was none but Vivi in my mind.

	My hard cock must have made a dent in her flat stomach, when she broke the 
kiss and whispered into my ear: "Did you want to see me without it, or was 
it just words?"

	I looked down at the protrusion in my slacks. "The barometer says there's a 
storm coming up." She laughed at that and grabbed the hem of her dress, 
slowly pulling it up her legs. Her greenish eyes were sparkling, and she 
smiled all the time. "Aren't you going to show me something?"

	When my coat and tie hit the floor, her dress was up to the reinforced 
black band of her stockings. When my shirt and T-shirt joined the pile on 
the floor her dress was around her waist, revealing the loveliest piece of 
slender white thigh above her stay-ups, a beautiful, closely trimmed black 
bush and a tanned, flat stomach. I kicked off my shoes and lowered my slacks 
and my Y-fronts. When I looked up, her face was covered as she pulled the 
dress over her head. My socks were the last to join the pile just as she 
flung her dress to the corner of the hall. I did not move for a few seconds. 
God, she was so beautiful. Her small breasts with dark, upturned nipples, 
seemed to beg for my attention, and strangely I was not the least 
embarrassed by the ridiculous sight I must have been, standing naked with my 
cock pointing straight at her. I lifted my arms towards her, and she flowed 
into my embrace. She wriggled her hips a little to manoeuvre my cock to lie 
flat against her belly, and then she kissed me. She pressed her sinewy body 
against me and kissed. And kissed. Soft, loving kisses. Hard, violent 
kisses. Tongue-licking kisses.

	I felt how she folded her hands behind my neck, and suddenly she stopped 
kissing. She leaned her head back and then tried to jump up to catch my 
waist between her thighs. I reached down and grabbed those thighs, and 
suddenly a very wet, very hot, and very vibrant pussy swallowed my cock.

	She moved up and down on me, while I pushed her living room door open. I 
felt the soft rug under my naked feet, and I slowly bent my knees until I 
was resting on the floor. I leaned back to lie down, and as soon as I had 
stretched out my legs Vivi really picked up speed. She slammed her body down 
on my hips, and my cock wallowed in the sexy feeling of hitting bottom with 
each of her thrusts. I reached up and played a little with her breasts, but 
it was a lot sexier to watch them quiver with each stroke, so I folded my 
hands behind my head and just enjoyed the wonderful sight.

	Vivi opened her eyes to see what I was doing, and when she found out I was 
watching her intensely, she locked her eyes into mine, as if she wanted to 
read my brain. She smiled, she panted, and suddenly she stopped the hard 
fucking. She ground her pussy hard against my pubic bone so my cock felt 
like it was `stirring the pot'. She let out a high-pitched scream, followed 
by a low groan, and then she came. God, did she come! Up till now she had 
supported her hands on my shoulders, but as she started coming, she 
straightened up and stretched her hands above her head. She kept grinding 
her pussy against me while she groaned and panted, and her cunt grabbed and 
pumped and tickled my cock. Her flat belly rippled with her contractions, 
and pretty soon I could not stand it any more. I roared her name again and 
again as I pumped half a lifetime into her.

	Vivi collapsed on top of me, burying her head at my neck for a moment. When 
she finally lifted her head, she cradled my face with her slender hands and 
kissed me. This time very lovingly. My lips, my eyes, my forehead and my 
cheeks. Finally she kissed my nose, sat up straight and smiled: "I really 
liked this Beethoven edition. Passionate and most satisfying."

	"MMmmmm. Me too. I can hardly wait for us to explore and practice the finer 
details. God, Vivi, you are such a wonderful woman. I can't believe it's 
only the second time we meet."

	"You know, you got to me with that pick-up line: Let's go and play some 
music."

	"Honestly, Vivi, although I was infatuated from the moment you said `I'm 
Vivi Greene', I really wasn't thinking sex. I wanted to play music with 
you."

	"We will, dear, we will. Will you indulge an old fantasy of mine?"

	"If I can. Of course I will."

	"It's a fantasy never fulfilled, but it will always make me warm, happy and 
horny."

	"Speak up."

	"Will you play Beethoven's sonatine in C major while we are both naked?"

	"Have you got the sheets for violin? I'm sure I can't remember all of it."

	"I've got it."

	"Heavens, I can't really believe I'm having this talk, while my cock is 
slowly dwindling inside the prettiest woman I know."

	She laughed heartily, squeezed my soft cock a couple of times with her wet 
pussy, and said: "Come on, fiddler, let's play. I'll rape you again later." 
She got up and reached me a hand to pull me up from the floor. In the 
bathroom she fetched a towel, which she folded and placed on her piano 
bench. "I don't want to spill it all on my bench," she giggled.

	She played her piano like she had played me. When I told her it was at 
least two years since I had played this piece the last time, she just 
nodded, and when we came to the first of the very fast and difficult parts, 
she slowed down to follow my tempo, and then back to `normal' when I was 
through.

	Being naked with her had a strange influence on my playing. I felt my body 
take much more part in the music, as if it was an antenna sending new waves 
to my brain and my hands. Have you ever watched a naked beauty play the 
piano? In the beginning I concentrated very hard on the playing, because I 
wanted to make a favourable impression on this exceptional woman, but 
towards the end the whole sonata crashed. I just could not keep my mind to 
the music. Through most of the sonata, her small, pointed breasts had 
quivered like small, fluttering birds, but when I saw her nipples swell into 
little hard nubs, I lost it, and the music came to a halt.

	"My God, Vivi, if we are ever going to play like this again, I shall need a 
lot of practice. I must get used to playing, while I watch your beautiful, 
sexy body."

	"I loved playing like this," she laughed. "And you're good. I think we 
should practice both ways, naked and dressed. I loved your compliment when 
you lost your concentration." She got up from the bench, grabbed my hand and 
pulled me towards a door at the back of the room. "I want to rape you 
again."

	"Oh, you do? And when do I get to rape you?"

	"I don't know. In a week or two?"

	"I'll settle for that."

	That night was a turning point in my life. We fucked and we played. Then we 
fucked again and then we played some. I sat on her belly and played right 
out of my dreams. She played for me while I was on my knees between her 
legs. By early morning I was exhausted and hopelessly in love, which I told 
her. We finally fell asleep, and when we woke up past noon, she told me she 
loved me too. By one o'clock we had overcome all her doubts about our 
difference in age, and at three o'clock I asked her to marry me. She gave me 
her `yes' on one condition: We should wait for three months before we 
married.

	That will be today.

	Last night a couple of friends wanted to throw a bachelor party, but I did 
not feel like it. Instead I found the first two chapters of this story and 
added the third and last chapter late at night. My taxi will pick me up in 
five minutes, so I'll put these pages in a big envelope and place them in my 
desk. One day I may show them to Vivi, my dream woman.