By Margo Perry  (margo707 AT rogers DOT com)
Copyright 2002 by Margo Perry, all rights reserved.

The persistent honking of an alarm clock roused Sean out of a fitful sleep. He rolled over instinctively, punched the off button and checked the time: 9:00 AM.

The last time I looked it was about 8. I must have drifted off.

He yawned resignedly into the silence that followed, trying to collect the thoughts that swarmed inside his head. He remembered …

Cassandra, waking him with seductive coos. She’d sat on top of him, rubbing his sleepy flaccid cock to rock-hardness with her wet pussy and hot grasping ass. Her huge breasts swaying, rising and falling, taunted him as she bent over to design wide slow circles on his chest with her long hard nipples.

Sean’s morning hard-on throbbed impatiently, interrupting his reminiscences. He felt lonely in his horniness. He wanted Cassandra with him, in the flesh. But, even though she wasn’t there, he could still see …

her, moving her gargantuan breasts all over his body, burying his feet in breast flesh, hugging his legs, cock and balls. She licked, sucked and nibbled his chest, neck and face with her warm wet mouth, tongue and teeth. Her skin glistened with the oil that she’d smoothed onto her body, rubbed onto her nipples, stroked onto her pussy. She twisted and shrugged her shoulders and her pendulous titties danced over him, grazing his cheeks and brushing his lips. She kissed his nipples with hers as she leaned tantalizingly over him to place her bottle of oil on the bedside table.

Sean’s balls were now tingling with anticipation and need. His full, long cock seeped pre-cum … ripe for the taking. He reached over to grab the container of oil from the bedside table. It wasn’t there. He could clearly remember Cassandra putting it there, but now it was gone!

Could I have been dreaming?
We made love … I fell asleep in her arms … I woke up alone.
She disappeared then just like the oil has disappeared now!
Could it have all been a dream?

Sean sighed. He felt bone weary … but ever so horny. He felt confused … but obsessively driven. It seemed like his whole life had become a war of worlds: reality battling illusion, body versus mind. Sleep might have robbed Cassandra of substance but her image was firmly entrenched in his mind, directing his heart, body and soul to feelings of love and lust that were beyond his reckoning. He wanted Cassandra, real or imagined, desperately and all the time. His cock knew it … it was screaming for attention. And he knew it. He could feel her …  claiming him, grinding her dripping pussy against his leg, stealing licks of oozing cum from the tip of his cock as it pumped its orgasmic way up and down the oil-slicked valley of her fucking cleavage …

Sean spread thick saliva over one palm and took his hungry balls in hand. He massaged them and squeezed them. Rubbed himself, asshole to balls, just as he liked it. He spat gobs into his other palm and began to stroke, caress and squeeze his grateful cock. He gave himself pleasure that no one else could give, except Cassandra, until he had no mind. Only the raspy sound of his ragged breathing, as his eyes rolled back under closed lids. Until there was pure ecstasy and the explosion of fluid that gushed from his maleness … and the warm trickle that escaped unbidden from his moist eyes. Sean lay satiated and vulnerable, adrift in post-orgasmic space. He felt full of love but empty of longing, and very much alone.

Gotta’ sleep…Gotta’ get up…It’s 9:30…Gotta’ be at the casting office at eleven…Gotta’ get up…

The clock on the dashboard read 10:00 AM as Sean exited the apartment garage and eased into the stream of mid-town traffic. It was amazing what a shower could do. He felt refreshed and ready to take on the day. He thought of all the years, sixteen novels’ worth, he’d been slugging away at his computer, turning out paperbacks whose royalties barely paid the rent. Now finally, success! Fantasy Heights Pictures was about to turn his latest novel, Cassandra’s Way, into a movie and Sean was on his way to the call-backs for the lead. He felt comfortably distant from his novel now that it was in the director’s hands. He was going to the audition because he’d been invited, was curious about the process and about whom would play Cassandra.

Sean had turned down the studio’s offer to write the film script. Completing the novel had exhausted him. He’d written obsessively, finishing over six hundred pages in under four months. He stayed indoors for long periods, hardly eating or sleeping, seldom showering or shaving. He’d begun hallucinating; at least that’s what his psychiatrist diagnosed when Sean told him that Cassandra, a character from his novel had actually come to life. That the picture of a pin-up, that he’d modeled the physical Cassandra after, had moved in its frame. That she’d walked out of that same frame to seduce him, make mad passionate love to him. That she was sometimes a dream, invading his mind and leaving him more horny, hungry and helpless than he could have ever imagined possible. And that sometimes, she’d come to him in the flesh and he’d know more pleasure, more erotic satisfaction than he’d ever known.

Complete nervous breakdown? … Delusional Disorder … Maybe, so.

But whatever she was, fiction or fact, Sean wanted her. He needed her. He was lost in a world of his own making and his only fear was that his fantasy would disappear. That’s why he tore up the prescription the doctor gave him. That’s why he cancelled all future appointments.

The clock on the dashboard read 10:50 AM as Sean parked in the lot. He’d arrived at the Casting Agent’s office with ten minutes to spare.
As he approached the receptionist’s desk, a handsome middle aged woman rose to greet him.
“I’m Doris Sweeney, head of casting,” she said, extending her hand. “Looks like we’re in for a short morning,” she continued. “We had fifty actors in yesterday, but the director settled on one, a Ms. Elizabeth Morris. She’s an unknown but she’s what he wants. Please, follow me.”

She led Sean down a hall and into a large room that was empty except for a long table, behind which sat a number of people who chatted animatedly amongst themselves. As they approached, a young man sprang to his feet, stuck out his hand and gesticulated enthusiastically toward the empty chair beside him. His energy was infectious and Sean found himself grinning as he shook the hand in front of him.
“I’m David, David Keith and I thank you for a wonderful story. Come sit. Thanks, Doris,” he added, waving at the already retreating agent.
Sean sat and David leaned toward him. “Only one woman is reading. Man, she walked in yesterday, opened her mouth and she was Cassandra. I hope you’re pleased with her because I’ve already told my people to prepare her contract.”

On cue, the door opened and Doris Sweeney announced, “Ms. Morris is here.”
The room fell silent as the actress walked confidently across the room toward them. She was wearing a charcoal gray turtleneck sweater, matching soft wool slacks and high heeled boots. She had a slim but voluptuous body. Her mountainous breasts jutted proudly before her, moving left and then right only seconds after the lilt of her slender hips. At the table, she smiled seductively and stretched out her hand directly to Sean.
“I hope you enjoy my reading.” For endless seconds, her smoky gray eyes burned into his.
She read and her voice seemed to come from far away and from deep inside him at the same time. His words out of her mouth, his dream standing before him, in public, in the flesh. Sean was struck dumb.

“Thank you, Ms. Morris. “If you’ll just wait in reception, I’ll be with you in a few minutes,” he heard David say. “Well, what do you think?”

How can this be? She’s an actress! I’ve never even heard of her. But she is my picture … out of the frame. She is the voice … out of my head. She is Cassandra!

“Isn’t she Cassandra? What do you think?” David repeated.
Sean nodded his head. That’s all he could manage.
“Shall we give her the good news?”
Sean nodded again and obediently followed David out of the room.

David invited Sean into rehearsal as a script consultant and from the very first day, Sean and Margaret were inseparable. They had dinner that first night and talked until dawn. They had dinner the second night and made love until dawn. They had dinner the third night and moved her out of her hotel and into his apartment.

After Margaret settled in, they sat on the couch and Sean talked for hours non-stop about the writing of his novel and of his obsession with Cassandra … about the mystery of the identical twin-ship between Cassandra and herself, Margaret.
“You’re full of questions, but sometimes there are no answers. Are you happy, Sean?” Margaret asked.
“Yes, very,” Sean answered.
“So am I,” Margaret said, taking Sean’s hand in both her own. “Seems like I’m your dream come true and you’re certainly mine. That should be enough, don’t you think?”
Sean took her in his arms and answered with a long, deep and very wet kiss.
Four weeks had flown by since then.

Before Sean opened the door to his apartment, he could hear classical music.
Margaret’s home …
Sean’s car had been giving him trouble and he’d left the apartment at eleven to drop it at the garage. It was now half-past noon. The door swung open before Sean could use his key and the vision before him took his breath away. The curtains were drawn and candles lit, turning day into romantic night. Margaret stood before him barefoot, a diaphanous powder blue gown flowing like a clear ocean around her. The huge swell of her creamy breasts strained enticingly against the bodice of her lingerie. Béla Fleck’s banjo, sounding sweet and seductively sure, picked its way through Perpetual Motion.
“It’s all so beautiful. You’re beautiful,” Sean said.

Without a word, Margaret took his hand and led him to the bathroom. She undressed him slowly and caressed him into a bath softened by subtly fragrant oils. She bathed him tenderly, her nails teasing his skin until it tingled with erotic currents. She rubbed his nipples with a washcloth just rough enough to encourage their most intense response; his nipples grew hard with excitement. She puckered her lips and slipped underwater to nibble and suck his tingling breast. She lingered over his balls, weighing them, testing their texture and form. She lingered over his cock, diving under again and again with her full lips and hot wet mouth to claim, lick and suck her prize.
“I can’t take anymore,” Sean sighed.
And immediately he felt her finger circling his ass, making a liar out of him because he wanted more. He wanted her to probe and plunge her finger inside him. He could feel the pressure building in his balls, as she circled his cock with her tongue, nibbled his head with playful teeth. She moved her head up and down. Saliva soaked, warm water bathed, teeth, tongue, pursed lips … the sensations around his cock were building into a circuitry that defied distinctions. And suddenly, she withdrew.
Sean’s mind snapped. He stared at her, unable to fathom the magnitude of his loss, his need for her mouth on his cock, her finger in his ass. She stared back at Sean and deliberately and very slowly lifted and draped her magnificent breasts over the edge of the tub.
“Touch my titties, Sean. Make them wet.”
Sean adjusted himself in the tub, cupped his hands and rained water over the fabric covering her chest. He reached for her breasts with wet hands, watched their outline deepen, kneading them under the now soaked material clinging to her skin. He twisted the long hard nipples that rose proudly from the dark circles framing them. He felt her mouth, again descending on his cock, her fingers gently probing his ass. He felt her mouth become impatient, her finger, now fingers becoming demanding. He leaned back against the tub; panting and watched her freed breasts sway and bounce to the rhythm of her plunging head and fingers. He felt his body tense. He climbed so high, so perilously high.
“Don’t stop!” he prayed.
And she didn’t and he couldn’t breath. And then he was in free-fall, all of him exploding in one volcanic eruption.

She leaned further into the tub to hold his head against her soggy bosom, gently smoothing his hair and then his face. She kissed his cheek and helped him out of the tub. She toweled him dry with exquisite care and put him to bed, dusting baby powder over him with fingers so tender that their touch was a breath.

Margaret hummed a lullaby. Sean drifted into a deep sleep and woke much later, safe in her arms.