Ivana – Part 2

I lost my job. It turned out that I couldn’t function normally when I was in this haze, acting like a zombie. I should probably hate Ivana for doing this to me, but when I dream about her every night its the best time of my life. I wish I could sleep forever so that I don’t have to face the turmoil every morning, waking up to realise that I’m not with her.

As soon as the sleep envelopes me, my body relaxes and a warm satisfaction washes over me. I see her standing at the end of the bed, staring at me unashamedly like she always does. She climbs onto the foot of the bed on all fours and crawls up over my body; my cock is already standing to attention as she bends her head to brush her lips against mine. Her long hair tickles my face as it falls from behind her shoulders, and I lie frozen as she takes complete control. She peels the covers back to expose my nakedness, but she’s in the same beautiful state. Her glorious breasts fill my vision for a moment – she sees my fascination and picks up my hands to cup them. I squeeze them gently, circle her nipples and feel them harden under my finger tips. I sit up to take them in my mouth, amazed that any breasts so perfect could exist. Each scene of my dream blends effortlessly into the next; sometimes the positions change, sometimes the settings change. But Ivana never changes, she remains the Goddess that I once knew. When it gets to the part in my dream where she lowers herself onto my cock, I almost lose control. Her pussy is so tight, so wet, so warm. Her eyes close in ecstacy is she pulls my hips, plunging me as far inside her as I can go. As she rocks her pelvis back and forth sliding up the length of my raging erection I begin to feel the waves building up inside me and I know I’m going to come. This is the point where I always wake up. I’ve learned to keep a box of tissues by my bed as I’ve already gone too far by this point; on waking my hand shoots down to my cock and I frantically rub and squeeze it as the orgasm comes with such intensity that I often shout out her name.

Luckily I had plenty of savings so my quality of life hasn’t changed too much (in material terms). I managed to force myself to go to the supermarket once a week, and I mechanically ate in front of a tv I wasn’t watching. Sometimes I would aimlessly roam the streets searching for her, but my body couldn’t muster up any enthusiasm. I had given up.

One day I left the house on one of my roaming expeditions and I had no desire to go back home. There was nothing for me there. I wandered the streets of London for three days; my muscles protested but I trudged on regardless. On the third night I collapsed by the fountain in Trafalgar Square where I had seen her last. I let the unconsciousness wash over me and I sunk into the darkness.

I don’t know how long I was there for. The last I had seen it was the middle of the night. I vaguely recollect cool hands on my face, and my body being heaved upwards. An unmeasurable amount of time later, I opened my eyes to a dim sunset through an unfamiliar window. I rubbed my eyes trying to clear the fog and became aware that there was a body next to me, breathing steadily. I was almost too scared to look. I felt a stare burning into me, unashamedly. I turned my head, and all I could see was her. She found me.