Neve and the Sandman


“In the repertoire of my being, that of a mortal with creative juices…I, The Sandman and sweeper of sensuality make my nightly journey to seek out the one female creature that I might make my own.”Neve read these words to herself, then said aloud, “The sweeper of sensuality huh? Not in my experience.”Neve sat back in her bed. The story was from one of those online sites that specialized in more adult themed stories. Stories of erotic encounters between two or more people that resulted in hot steamy sex, and occasionally romance. Some were darker themes than others. Some were just the old “one-night stand” while others were the final encounter between two lovers. These were the ones she liked, the sad ones that reflected her own life. The “happy ending” romance tales tended to bore her as she never knew anyone who enjoyed such a fairytale ending in their relationships. Most ended in bad break-ups or divorce.Still, the idea of the Sandman being a creature of seduction did spark her interest. As a child he was the fictitious character who would help put children to sleep and provide them with happy dreams of rainbows and ponies. She had no need for those. She was no child. She was a full grown woman with full, round breasts, small nipples, flowing red hair, green eyes, slender build, and full hips. She knew she wasn’t unattractive, but most men couldn’t hold her attention for more than a few minutes and she for one was tired of the same old dribble. The mindless rabble that so many men felt she wanted to hear.She reread the opening line again. “My nightly journey to seek out the one female creature that I might make my own.” What did that mean? Was the Sandman real? Neve laughed at her foolish thought as she set her tablet on her bedside table, turned off her lamp, snuggled down under her bedcovers and drifted off to sleep.~*~*~*~ With his aphrodisiac of cognac, he spoon feed caviar of eroticism with his quill upon Ankara escort the paper before him… Fontainebleau with ink. This dusk he was scribbling a continuation of his journal, stirring within the marrow of his bones as the winds blow beneath the panes of his gables. Three flights high of the circular staircase as boughs of the trees reach out and tap at my shadowed nest.All alone in his boudoir, just him and the storms looming. The thunder of the beast with his feather scrolling, creepy erotica as mere mortals sleep. People in the village look down on him, as what they don’t understand, they cast labels. On seeing him walking in the rain without an umbrella, the locals referred to him as The Thundering Beast.Poetically composing a soliloquy, he professes insomnia taking control of his vanity and sweet harmony of his disposition. As he wraps his robe about himself, the cuckoo sticks out its hollow beak announcing the hour. The methadone ticking as he hurriedly scribes. Within the tick-tick of my dwelling, The pendulum of the cock swings From the hourglass of my cuckoo. Sweeping thoughts of her.   I, the Sandman scribe nuance of ebony, Words pirouetting their sensuality As the dusk slings swill of my ink. Anally seeking her bewitching.   The hooting of the one-eyed owl,  Stirring the insomnia within my soul. Flirtations of lust I scribe,  As she lays for sleep.   Green of her eyes and molded breasts,  Tonight I sweep away her inhibitions. The pendulum of the cock swings. Given rise to my new love.   “Who is there to give me fright?” Incased in nubile nudity, wearing a thin veil of cobweb lace, she reached out and touched his cheek. The emancipation of his cock rising beneath his britches. Ice of cycles that of his precum hung on his shaft as he drooled. His muse, Fata Morgana, whispered into his ear.“Adagio, you must go. She is ready.”~*~*~*~Neve could feel the cool breeze Ankara escort bayan across her skin. She looked around but didn’t recognize her surroundings. The dark, twisted trees, the eerie feeling that surrounded her. The feeling she was being watched. It was only now she realized her clothes were not her own. She was wearing a dark gown of lace and satin. It reminded her of that show with the women who claimed to be vampires but looked more like vamps. It had a hint of green, like her eyes. Neve was sure it would complement them nicely.A creature in a black cloak emerged. Silently as he stepped forward, as if levitating, assuring Neve he wasn’t about harming her. His whispers took on an aura of mysticism as if a spirit wafting in from the fog, yet he appeared real. Swooshing the cape about his head and waist as if a matador, his cock burst from the trousers like a silent cannon firing a projectile of a green mist.”As you read my words of seductions and erotic splendor,” he said softly, “may I caress your bosom and suckle your breasts?”Neve’s mind raced. Adagio was standing before her, removing the cloth from her breasts, exposing the milky white skin. He leaned forward and began to suckle. Doing so milk ran down Adagio’s chin as Neve swooned, thinking she was lost in her dreams.“Who are you?” she asked.“I am Adagio,” he said. “Read for me, read my words.”Neve found her tablet back in her hand. The screen glowed in the darkness. She looked at the screen and read aloud, “Within the tick-tick of my dwelling, the pendulum of the cock swings from the hourglass of my cuckoo. Sweeping thoughts of her. ”Neve glance down to see the stranger called Adagio sucking and caressing her breasts. She continued to read, “I, the Sandman scribe nuance of ebony, words pirouetting their sensuality as the dusk slings swill of my ink. Anally seeking her bewitching. The hooting of the one-eyed Escort Ankara owl, stirring the insomnia within my soul. Flirtations of lust I scribe. As she lays for sleep. Green of her eyes and molded breasts, tonight I sweep away her inhibitions. The pendulum of the cock swings. Given rise to my new love. ”Neve gasped. Her eyes were green, this creature was sucking her ‘molded breasts’. Was he here to sweep away her inhibitions and anally seek her bewitching?“‘Who is there to give me fright?’”It was with the final words she realized, he had written this about her. “Who is there to give me fright?” she repeated.“It is I, Adagio, you may know me as, the Sandman.”He wrapped his arms around her body, holding her tight, kissing up her chest. Her petite frame was no match for his size. “What do you want?” she asked, with a hint of fear in her voice, as he kissed her jaw line.“You, my lovely. I wish to sweep away your inhibitions, anally seek your bewitching, and satisfy your darkest desires.”Adagio kissed her firmly. Neve resisted for a moment then kissed him back. She reminded herself this was just a dream, and gave into her desires. Neve probed his mouth with her tongue, feeling her lust and desire grow. She wrapped her arms around his body, feeling his skin. Her dress was quickly lost, he felt her naked body against his as he lay her back onto the ground, kissing down her flesh. Neve gasped and moaned as she felt his fingers caress her hips, his lips and tongue leaving a trail down her body. Her mind raced with the sensations of Adagio’s lips touching her skin.“Yes,” she moaned.Adagio smiled as he reached the apex of her womanhood. The red curly pubic hair leading to her dripping pussy. He breathed in her musky scent, fueling his own desire. Yes, he thought to himself, tonight she is mine.Adagio’s tongue darted down, caressing her clit. Neve’s body shook as she moaned loudly. His tongue slid between the folds of her pussy, penetrating her. Her sweet taste drove his desires, hardening his cock. His hands fondled and caresses her breasts as his tongue fucked her pussy the way he knew his cock would soon. His tongue felt hot inside her, shooting a hot flame of erotic passion as her hips took control and raised.

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