Blackberry Dreams

My cunt, my lips and my clit are all jerking separately at each entry. Nothing is in synch. Everything is happening of and on its own. No control, no plan, no patience…I am beginning to be afraid that if I do have an orgasm, blackberries will launch themselves all over the earth.

Then the blackberry penises begin to move in rhythm inside me. Many of the tongues shift from other parts of my body to caress my clit. I can see your sex. It is so beautifully aroused. Many tongues move to you and are licking and stroking your erection, around your balls and up your ass. You are gasping with me. I can hear you heaving in passion but I cannot see or feel you. My only sensation is of the penis berries.

I began to feel my orgasm gathering and tightening, but rather I arrive in that strange place between wakefulness and dreaming. The dream remains real, but now my hips are grinding into the bed. I touch myself (dreaming? awake?) and my juice is scented with blackberries and your cum.

Then I become well and truly conscious. My ragged panting is as if I had been running, my skin is flushed all over and I am damp with sweat. But I have not climaxed and I need it so much! Now I begin touching myself with both hands, drawing my wetness out and all over my sex down to my anus, fingering that too. Imagining your body and shoulders descending in and over me thrusting so deeply and madly it feels as if I am splitting in two. I violently orgasm -- almost instantly. I try to calm down after the wildness of it, but I need more, much more.

Frantically I search for something to use inside, not wanting to loose a moment. My vibrator isn’t here -- so I grab the closest thing, a hairbrush. Using the handle of it, I stroke it in and out of my pussy, I pinch my stiff, little clit, slowly, tentatively, wanting this time to last, to be repeated over and over and over. I imagine the penis berries in me and each orgasm is strong, not gradually diminishing as they often do. I pause, and repeat …again….again….again…… At last I collapse in exhaustion, drowning in my own lust for you -- you who exist in my head and my sleep.

That was my dream of you, dear one. I don’t know how many times I came, but it was worth every strange, liquid moment of it. Should I thank you or my subconscious or a certain, special Blackberry? It doesn’t matter. One thing is certain, I will be making blackberry pies. Would you like to join me in the kitchen?

♀

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