- NOT A WET DREAM
Maxwell
I felt warmth enveloping me, a comforting heat radiating from somewhere deep within. My body instinctively sought more of it, craving the solace it brought. My hands moved across my bare chest, and her name slipped from my lips like a prayer. “Delilah,” I whispered, my voice trembling with longing
The sensation of wet kisses along my jaw and nose felt so real, so vivid. Her intoxicating scent surrounded me, pulling me deeper into the illusion. But the pain of her absence was a constant ache, a blade twisting in my chest. It was unbearable, yet I couldn’t let go of this fleeting fantasy, no matter how much it hurt.
The kisses grew more intense, and I moaned her name again, louder this time. “Delilah,” I breathed, my voice breaking.
“My King, I am here with you,” her voice echoed in my ear, soft and reassuring. It was so real that I chuckled in my sleep, though my eyes remained closed. I was awake, yet I clung to the dream, unwilling to let it fade. Morning would come soon, and with it, my resolve to return to that pack and bring my queen back to where she belonged. The emptiness without her was a void I could no longer endure.
Then, I felt hands slipping into my underwear, fingers wrapping around my twitching member. A wave of confusion washed over me. Why was I doing this? Why was indulging in this fantasy? But the warmth of the hand stroking me was too real to ignore.
My body responded instinctively, swelling with desire. A warm mouth enveloped me, and I groaned, my hips bucking involuntarily.
“Delilah!” I cried out again, lost in the dream.
The sensation of her tongue dancing along my length was electrifying. I felt alive, consumed by the heat and the pleasure. My hands reached out, grasping at the figure I believed to be her.
Was it Delilah in my dream, or was it my imagination? It felt so real, so vivid, that I couldn’t tell the difference. I thrust upward, meeting the rhythm of the person above me, moans filling the air as the pleasure intensified.
My eyes snapped open, and there she was, Delilah, riding me, her eyes rolled back in ecstasy as she slammed herself down on my length. Her breasts swayed with the motion, and my hands flew up to cup them, desperate to
confirm that she was real.
“Are you real?” I asked, my voice trembling with disbelief.
“Very real, my King,” she whispered, her voice a sultry murmur that sent shivers down my spine.
I squinted, trying to clear the haze from my mind. Her mouth met mine in a passionate kiss, and we were lost in the overstimulation of the moment. I thrust harder, her cries of pleasure echoing through the room. It was overwhelming, intoxicating. I allowed myself to surrender to the sensation, to the feeling of her body against mine. Nothing else mattered in that moment, not the pain, not the questions, not the world outside this room.
I shifted our positions, taking control. I pressed her legs back, giving myself deeper access as I filled her completely. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, and I reveled in the sound. Our bodies were pressed together, my mouth silencing her cries as my hands held her tightly, protectively. I couldn’t let her slip away again. Not this time.
She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. My movements slowed, becoming more deliberate, more intimate. We clung to each other, our breaths mingling as I thrust into her, hitting the deepest part of her.
“Maxwell… ahhh… fuck! I’m dying,” she gasped, her voice trembling with pleasure.
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040 NOT A WET DREAM
+25 BONUS
“Delilah, my queen… fuck!” I groaned, my voice raw with emotion.
We were lost in a world of sensation, our words spilling out in a chaotic symphony of pleasure and need. Kisses turned into bites, our saliva mingling as we melted into each other.
Her fingers tangled in my hair, mine in liers, as we moved together. This was different, this feeling, this connection. It was more than physical; it was magical, consuming, unlike anything I had ever experienced before. Our bond was extraordinary, something beyond the ordinary. It was special, and though I didn’t fully understand it, I knew it was real. Every day, I searched for answers, but just when I thought I was close to understanding, more questions arose.
How had Delilah gotten here? Who was she, truly? The goddess had answers, but they remained just out of reach. We shuddered together, our bodies trembling as we reached the peak of our pleasure. I filled her with my seed, our breaths coming in ragged gasps as we clung to each other. Slowly, the world around us calmed, and we drifted into a brief, contented sleep, still entwined.
When I woke, she was gone.
The bed was empty, the room silent. But her scent lingered, a sign that she had been here. My heart ached with confusion and longing. How had she come to me? And why had she left so suddenly? The questions swirled in my mind, but there were no answers. Only the lingering warmth of her presence and the hollow ache of her absence. I sat up, running a hand through my hair as I tried to make sense of it all. The room felt colder now, the warmth of her body replaced by a chilling emptiness. I reached out, touching the space where she had been, as if I could summon her back. But there was nothing. Only the faint trace of her scent.
The tension in my chest grew, a knot of fear and desperation tightening with every passing second. Where was she? And why did it feel like she was slipping further away with each breath I took? I had to find her. I had to know the truth. But deep down, a part of me feared that the truth might be more than I could bear.
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