The lamp rested on a glass shelf amid delicate porcelain figurines, Capodimonte roses, and glimmering gold sorcerers and dragons. Although the other, flashier items were arranged in the forefront to attract the most attention, it was the little golden lamp that drew his eyes like iron filings to a magnet. Surrounded by more glamorous and expensive treasures, its simple, graceful lines still exuded a sensuality that made it far more appealing, and of greater interest and value to him.
As he gazed at the slightly tarnished surface, he felt an excitement stirring in his soul that he thought had been lost along the many winding paths his life had taken. He knew beyond doubt that with a bit of attention, the little lamp could once again shine like the priceless treasure he knew it to be. Without hesitation, he purchased the lamp and tucked it discretely inside his shirt to protect it for the trip home. He was surprised at the comfort he felt with the cool surface pressed against his skin, and how quickly it warmed as it jostled against his body.
Once home, he took his time, gently stroking the lamp with tentative fingers, allowing them to linger lovingly on each blemish and scar. All were evidence of how the little lamp had seen both gentle and rough times. Rather than detracting from its value, they seemed to add to its character and mystery, making it more appealing than ever.
Strange, he thought, as he caressed the smooth surface. Such a strong attraction is out of character for me. Why do I take such comfort from its presence? He gently set the lamp on a small table next to his bed, and prepared himself for another night of dreamless sleep, the new dawn marking one more uneventful day in his unremarkable life. As he slipped naked under the sheets, he reached out to touch the lamp one more time before surrendering himself to the serenity of sleep.
He struggled to awaken, suddenly aware of the silent presence of another in the inky blackness. Even as he tried to free himself from the grasp of sleep, he realized that he could not. As in a dream within a dream, he was powerless to open his eyes, or to react. The faint scent of wildflowers, like an alpine meadow after a spring shower seemed to fill the edges of his senses. A vagrant gust of wind blew the sheets from his body, gently caressing his nakedness as he slept. His eyes flitted beneath closed lids as the breeze became the touch of silken fingers. Their touch, soft as a butterfly?s wing, sent waves of pleasure through him as they gently rubbed and stroked his flesh, exploring the secrets of his sleeping body.
He lay, sentient but immobile, without the need for sight. Like the memory of tiny, intimate pictures, his mind brought forth the image of eyes alight with passionate fire–pale eyes, the color of the blue cornflowers that filled the meadows of his childhood in their profusion, of hair the color of wild honey, the flaxen strands seeming to pulse with life as they moved over his longing, quivering flesh, barely touching? tantalizing.
His mind?s eye showed him full, soft lips, even as they moved to engulf his throbbing erection with their burning softness. He felt his hands caress the warm, silken nakedness of her, guiding her to him, though he knew his hands were actually still at his sides, captive to the immobility of his deep sleep.
As she moved with his guiding hands, his lips unerringly found the fragrant heart of her femininity, while her lips held his rigid member, and her tongue swirled and danced along the length of the shaft. Her golden hair fell across his stomach and thighs. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the searing touch of her was gone, along with the sweet, moist flesh he?d been devouring so greedily.
Once again, he struggled to awaken. The gentle touch of her fingers calmed him, and he moaned softly as she mounted him, lowering herself with agonizing slowness until his entire length was buried in the depths of her burning, clutching wetness. Lost in ecstasy, she leaned forward, her firm, full breasts brushing his chest, her nipples hard with arousal. He sucked first one, then the other into his mouth, gently brushing his tongue across them, swirling the tip around the puckered areolas that surrounded them.
Her teeth found the soft flesh at the curve of his throat, then his lower lip, biting gently as her body rocked back and forth on his shaft. He could taste the sweetness of her breath as a sigh escaped her lips. Her thighs squeezed him tightly as she neared her release, triggering his own. He felt his semen boil up his shaft, drawn from him by the spasms of her orgasm. She moaned as his seed flooded out to splash her burning inner walls as she milked every drop from his turgid cock.
Spent, she collapsed onto his chest, his rapidly softening member slipping from her, releasing a hot, sticky cascade that flooded from her secret recesses over his balls and thighs. She tried to rise, but he wrapped her in his arms, struggling to hold the dream for a last few precious moments. As his eyes slowly opened, he found her gone like a wisp of dandelion fluff borne away on a playful summer breeze.
He lay still and silent for long moments, shocked by the intensity of the dream. Was it a dream? he wondered. He savored the taste of her that still lingered on his lips, sweet and musky. A gentle breeze through the open window chilled his naked body, and he reached down with a trembling hand, his tentative fingers finding the wetness from their coupling. Senses reeling, he looked to the small bedside table where the lovely little lamp sat amid an ethereal glow. He reached out to stroke its sensuous curves with his fingertips.
“Magic,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, even to his own ears. “You’re my little magic lamp!”
