She was having the dream again; the same one she’d had every night for the past month. She was naked, straddled on this god-like man, his cock buried deep inside of her as she started rising and lowering herself, grinding him deeper inside of her. In the dream, she always did the same thing; run her hands up her thighs, across her stomach, to her belly button, sliding up to her breasts and palming each one, rubbing her rock-like, stiffened nipples as she threw her head back, allowing her long auburn hair to brush down her back around her waist. She’d have her eyes closed; eyes closed, lost in the sensation of him so deep inside her.

When she would look down through hooded eyes at the man beneath her, she always started to tremble at his appearance. The man who buried so deep within her was male perfection. His appearance was the only way she knew she was dreaming and that what she was experiencing wasn’t real. She didn’t know anyone in her life that looked like him, and even if she did, she didn’t think there’d be a chance in hell someone like him would be looking at someone like her. A man who looked this drop-dead gorgeous would walk right past her without a second glance. He was god-like and she was average. Her looks, height, weight were all simply average; nothing exceptional at all.

This man had long, dark hair that almost touched his shoulders and brown eyes that sucked her in so deep that she almost couldn’t find her way back from them. When he looked at her it made her heart race and her stomach flip. His gaze was intentionally intense so she knew she had his full attention. With just one of his stares he could make her entire body warm. His skin was a deepened tan and contrasted greatly to her pale freckled Irish skin. His body—his body was the most marvelous creation she’d ever seen; what any woman with a pulse would dream about. His shoulders were wide and sculpted, his arms bulged with muscles and whenever he moved she could see them flex under his skin. His pectoral muscles were perfectly formed. His abdominal muscles so sculpted, she couldn’t help but run her fingers up and down their finely chiseled contours.

In the dream, she never questioned who he was or that she didn’t even know his name; that was all inconsequential. She wasn’t embarrassed being naked in front of a man she didn’t even know either, even one as exquisite as him. All she did know was that, when they were together, she experienced the hottest sex of her life even though it was just in a dream.

As she slid herself up and down on him, she panted and moaned as his penis inside her rubbed against her swollen clit. The inside of her thighs were wet with all the juices that were escaping from her, small tributaries snaking down her legs.

As she started to come, she looked down at him again. His eyes were so full of passion and hunger for her, she could hardly stand to look him in the eye. Her orgasm rushed over her so hard, it almost knocked her over and she could feel her muscles clench around him, squeezing him as he came, too. She leaned down to kiss him fully on the mouth before she woke alone in her bed, bathed in sweat and still experiencing the final contractions of her intense climax.

When she had finally recovered from her orgasm she rolled over on her side, adjusting her pillow. The man of her dreams was so amazing. Even though they had never even spoken to each other in any of her dreams she wished he was real. She knew he wasn’t though; no man could be that perfect in real life.

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