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A story about anticipation, based on a dream I had

by mikufan4life

A story about anticipation, based on a dream I had

We have agreed on the scenario.

You will come in, fresh from the outdoors, letting yourself in because I have left the front door on the latch. To hell with the neighbours – let them suppose what they want to suppose.

And find me, naked, kneeling on the bed. Maybe this is more than you expect, maybe it's what you hope for, maybe its just the wanton part of me that wants you to be greeted that way.

I cannot believe I am planning this. My heart flutters nervously as I lay in bed, next to the sleeping form of my husband. I can feel the cloth of the duvet rubbing lightly against my nipples, sensitive to even the shallow breaths I am taking. Somehow, I go back to sleep, still with the butterflies churning in my stomach.

The alarm goes, hubby stretches, yawns, scratches himself nonchalantly and makes for the bathroom. I try to lie still, but worry if that is how I normally behave. I try to look relaxed, yet know you are on your way to me, so cannot help but feel excited. I resist the temptation to touch myself – it would be just my luck to get caught sticky fingered on this of all days.

I acknowledge the daily ritual of tea brought to my bedside, trying to look my normal tousled, half-asleep self. Why does his morning routine take so long? I want to scream, the tension within me is almost at bursting point.

At last, the front door slams closed behind him and I leap from under the covers, heading immediately to the shower. I stand briefly in front of the full-length mirror and appraise the view as the water heats up. Not bad. Certainly not bad for 43. Sure, my breasts aren't quite as pert as they were in my teens and my stomach isn't exactly washboard flat, but as I raise my arms, my boobs lift and my stomach flattens a little. Not bad at all. And anyway, you like what you see, or so you tell me.

I step into the shower cubicle, feeling the skin on my exposed breasts tighten at the contact with the cold tiles. I glance down at my 36B's and see my nipples, erect and proud. The water runs down my body, and I resist the temptation to play with myself in the warm stream. I carefully wash, checking my armpits for any stray hairs. Armpits checked, I move lower down. I feel so wet, and not entirely from the shower. I carefully part the lips of my pussy and run the water over her. The temptation to carry on and have an early morning orgasm is strong but, somehow, I resist. Everything appears to be in order. My pussy and backside are clean and tidy.

I step from the shower, wrap my towel around my waist and head back to the bedroom. Even with the heating on, my nipples are still hard as bullets. I cannot remember being so aroused in years.

I carefully dry myself, paying particular attention to the places I know you love to kiss – my shoulders, the underside of my breasts and my aching pussy. There is little point in trying to dry there, as I can feel my juices welling up as fast as I can dry them, even if I should want to do so (which I don't)

I slip a silky robe on over my naked body, glancing at my reflection and noticing my breasts jutting from beneath the sheer material. I can't help but also notice the sparkle in my eye as I head downstairs to get breakfast.

My phone sits on the side of the kitchen worktop. The blue light on the side blinks insistently at me. I open my inbox – one message. You. You are about 30 minutes away. I start to prepare my breakfast, flapping around, flustered as though I'm in someone else's house. I spill the milk on the work surface and notice how my hands are trembling.

I take a deep, shuddering breath and smooth the material of my robe over my stomach. I feel the soft spring of my pubes at the base of my belly and again resist the temptation to go further.

I fill a bowl with cereal, pour the milk on, this time without hazard and sit down, tucking my legs under me on the sofa. I sit, never more conscious of the fact that I have a body as I try to eat. My mouth is dry and after a couple of mouthfuls I return to the kitchen, emptying the bowl and putting it in the dishwasher without even looking.

I check the phone again – you must be only 20 minutes away. I step to the hallway and, nervously, reach for the door lock.

The door handle feels cold, clinical under my fingers with their bright red nails. A silence surrounds me as I slide the latch down, delicately, locking the door open, yet I can hear my heart beat pounding in my ears; I am sure the whole street, if not the whole town, can hear my racing pulse.

I pause for a moment, poised to flee, poised to re-lock the door. Do I go through with the plan we devised? I tighten my resolve with a shiver and turn to run upstairs. The material of my slip rustles slightly, a sibilant "Yesss" as it rubs on my slender legs, rising half-way up my thighs as I ascend to the bedroom. In my mind the die is cast.

I look into my room, taking in the view of the bed from the doorway. It is in plain view, a scant six feet from the door. I step forward to smooth the rumpled covers, straightening pillows and duvet. I glance at the clock. You must be close now.I wriggle my shoulders and my slip drops to the floor, puddling round my ankles.

I bend down and reach inside the bottom drawer of my chest of drawers, feeling the air caressing the cheeks of my behind as my slip rides up over the smooth skin of my thighs.

There, in the back of the drawer, is a dark red silk scarf. I take it out, wrapping it sensuously around my wrists. I move to the bed, kneeling, my back to the door as I wrap the blood red material twice around my head, pulling it tight and tying it firmly over my eyes, effectively cutting me off from the room.

I lean forward, lowering my face to the pillow and raising my bottom in the air, and begin to wait. After a few moments I make myself more comfortable. As I shift I can feel the lips of my pussy separate in readiness for the passion to come.

All is quiet. I can hear the distant roar as the central heating boiler kicks in. Kids shout in the neighbour's house as they prepare for school. In the distance a jet growls, off to sunnier climes. The bed creaks slightly as I shift my body, partly in discomfort, partly in excitement. Maybe it's true – depriving me of one sense heightens the rest.

I strain my ears for the sound of a car drawing up outside. Nothing.

What is that – a car in the drive? I can't be sure, so I become even more still, straining my ears for any clue. Suddenly I can hear nothing. There is a slight draught, which I can feel teasing the hairs on my pussy with the most exquisitely delicate touch. Maybe you've come in the front door, maybe it's just the cat through the catflap. I can feel the anxious sweat on my thighs cooling in the moving air.

God, I am so wet, I can feel my lips swelling with the anticipation, gaping open to receive you. I can feel myself starting to leak, moistening the soft skin of my inner thighs. How long have I been waiting? It feels like hours, but could be minutes.

Hold it. Surely that was the front door? Have two people come into my home? I strain to hear. Still nothing to be sure of.

I suddenly realise it could be anyone – the front door might have swung open. Is it windy outside? Is it this week that the window cleaner is due? Who has come in downstairs? What should I do?

What if it is my husband, home sick from work? He has had a cold and is prone to taking a sickie. How would I explain this situation, my kneeling, naked and blindfold on our marital bed, my pussy and arse there for anyone to see, glistening with my juices? Just the thought adds to my state of arousal. I wriggle my hips in anticipation, desperate now for some physical stimulation.

There – that is the creak of the third step on the stairs. I pause, every fibre of my being tensed and tuned to the subtle sounds of approach. Still I am not sure...

Again I think I sense movement behind me. I so want to look, to see who is feasting their eyes on my nakedness, but resist the temptation. I hear the floorboards creak, and a sharp, suppressed intake of breath as the door opens and my naked, aroused body is exposed to my visitor's eyes for the first time.

Then silence. Nothing.

God, I feel so wanton, brazen. Kneeling before whoever has entered the room, my naked sex exposed to their hungry eyes. Touch me, please. Every nerve ending is screaming for me to turn and embrace the visitor in my room. I squash down the temptation, determined to stick to the original plan.

Hold on, that's the crunch of tyres outside now. Who is that? Who is it in my room? Who is it that is, even now, examining my naked body? I feel my nipples tighten in response to the thought.

After a few moments (seconds, minutes?) there is the rustle of clothing, and the distinct sound of a zip fly being undone, closely followed by the dull thud of a pair of jeans hitting the floor.

I am now beside myself with lust. I don't care who it is behind me, I can feel their eyes roving over the most intimate parts of my body. I push my arse further into the air, spreading my thighs wider to expose every detail of my naked pussy and anus to my mystery visitor.

There is a pause in the undressing – is that it completed? I can hear breathing. It gets closer, to the point where I can feel breath on the hairs surrounding my soaking wet pussy. I move slightly, my hanging breasts swinging against the duvet cover and causing me to moan as my nipples graze against the crisp material.

The hot breath leaves my naked cunt, but I can feel the heat of a body close to mine. I freeze, poised for something, hoping, praying it's you, but desperate for someone, something, inside me.

Then, at last I feel the hot, rubbery pressure of a hard penis rub against my lips. I moan, encouraging its owner to go further. He aligns his cock with my entrance and pushes, pushes hard and long. What a feeling – my body gives way, stretching to accommodate this penetration, which seems to go on and on.

I feel the hairs on his balls against my lips and clit and know he is buried to the hilt in my willing body. He adjusts his position, leaning forward as he fills me and, at last, I hear the words I have craved "Hello, lover" and I know it's you, my lover, living out our latest fantasy. The breath on my cheek and the release of knowing it's you are enough to push me over the edge. A warm, sensuous wave starts in my toes, sweeping up my calves and thighs before crashing through my groin and onwards through my heaving chest and into my brain, where it bursts in a heart stopping crescendo.

I slump onto the bed, exhausted, and close my eyes behind the silken blindfold. "Hello lover" I sigh in response as my body relaxes in your embrace.


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