Jan 232013

I dreamed I was at work. Deadlines were looming and computers wouldn’t work. Everything was going to hell but for some reason, my coworker, Belinda, was grabbing my crotch. It felt good but I was worried about the mid-month report. It was a dilemma.

My eyes opened to the familiar darkness of my bedroom. My cat was pressed against the front of my legs. My pillow smelled like conditioner because laundry was today.

My cock was still being stroked. I smiled. My wife must have woken up and been in the mood. I could feel her arm reaching around my waist and touching my cock. Knowing fingers were under my sheets and pressing against my boxers. My cock throbbed against the flimsy material. The fingers closed around my cock, pulling and tugging as much as my boxers would allow.

I debated how long I should pretend to be asleep. Would she jerk me off? Would she roll me over and suck me? Or maybe she would mount me? I was curious how far this would go but also horny enough to just skip straight to the fucking.

That was when I realized I was facing inwards on my bed and my wife’s back was facing me.

I stiffened with fear. My cock kept throbbing.

Who the fuck was stroking my cock? I didn’t move. If I jumped, screamed or freaked out, the fingers of a stranger would still be touching my junk. A stroke could turn into a pull and rip in seconds.

The hand reached into my boxers and pulled my cock out. Oh fuck. How long had it been since someone other than my wife had touched my cock? It felt good. A warm palm rubbed the head of my cock. Fingernails danced through my pubic hair. A firm grip held the length of my cock just right.

I couldn’t help groaning.

My wife started to snore.

Who was holding my cock? Did some stranger sneak into our house? Did they sneak into our bedroom just to give me a handjob? Oh god, I hoped it was a woman.

I felt a body press into my back. I felt hard nipples press against my bare back. I felt the heat of a cunt against my ass. A shapely leg moved through the covers and over my leg.

Oh yes, that was definitely a woman.

The hand stroked faster. It was a dry stroke but I was horny enough to not care. Fuck, it felt good.

I did wonder who the hell it was. Did I have any friends who were psycho enough to do this? I didn’t think so.

The hand started to twist with every stroke.

Did I have a stalker? Was it some crazy woman who I didn’t even know? That didn’t seem right. Crazy people go after the really handsome guys, right?

The hand pulled my cock straight out from my body. It stroked harder, daring me to make a mess in my sheets.

Wait, was this a ghost thing? Was I being haunted? The tits in my back felt warm. Ghosts were cold, weren’t they?

The hand stroked faster. My ass clenched. My back arched and pressed back against the unknown tits behind me. Questions fled my mind. I didn’t care anymore. It felt too good.

I climaxed. My cock emptied a mess into the sheets. I bit my pillow to keep from crying out. The hand milked every drop from my cock until finally releasing me.

My wife kept snoring. My cock and the sheets were a sticky wet mess. The hand moved away and the tits were gone from my back. I was sated and thinking a little clearer, but I was also sated and too blessed to move.

Something hot whispered in my ear.

“Don’t tell.”

So I didn’t.

  3 Responses to “Fiction:Strange Touch”

  1. Hot :)

  2. Mystique- Thanks :)

  3. Yummy. Though, evil since you don’t identify the stroker. Sounds lovely though, love it.

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