FYI, Mariska is over the age of consent.Later…to this day I do not know if it was a dream or if it really happened, but it is still vivid in my mind. I roused to some state of consciousness not yet awake, feeling a tiny hand gently caressing the length of my already excited manhood and kisses on my stomach, moving slowly down, caressing the tip with breaths of hot air and tiny, gentle touches of a warm tongue. I was exhausted and could not bring myself to wake, so I just enjoyed the dream…it was the second I had experienced in my lifetime, and I was beginning to appreciate them. “Mariska?” I asked, or at least I think I did. There was no reply. The sensation of being kissed stopped, and I had the feeling of being straddled, cool, firm thighs on the outsides of mine. I felt a hand grasping me, slowly and gently, and then slowly…so very, very slowly…my manhood embraced by the heat, wetness, and incredible tightness that was the dream that was making love to me. Somewhere in my mind it registered that it was too good…that there was no way that we could fit that perfectly…it was that suspension of reality that let me stay in the gentle arms of slumber and let me enjoy the dream that was unfolding before me. I heard her gasp as she lowered herself completely on to me, feeling the heat of her against me. She leaned forward, kissing my chest, and I cupped her bottom in my hands, holding her close to me and beginning to rock back and forth, thrusting gently. She angled her hips to accommodate me and began to rock slowly in an opposite rhythm, meeting my slow, steady thrusts. I could feel her breath quicken and her womanhood grip me more escort izmit tightly as her tempo increased, and as she took one of my nipples in her mouth and nibbled gently, I went over the edge. I cupped her bottom tightly, and thrusting in one stroke as hard as I could, let go deep inside her, a low growl issuing from deep in my throat. She rocked her hips against me to heighten the sensation as I did. It wasn’t a violent orgasm, rather a tranquil one, reminiscent of ocean waves crashing against the rocks of a lonely shore. I felt a kiss on my cheek, and heard the whispered words- “This girl loves Mr. Marlowe.” In my dream, I whispered them back.LATER Her eyes came to rest on the box on the table. “This girl hopes it pleases Mr. Marlowe.” I walked over and picked it up. It was a plain cardboard box tied with a simple piece of string, very unlike the bright and plentiful packaging that accompanied everything else, and it jingled as I shook it. “You shouldn’t have.” I said, untying the string and opening the box. “The gift is for this girl as well, Mr. Marlowe.” I opened the box. Sitting on a cushion of plain cotton batting was a set of silver ankle bells, quite different from any I had ever seen. The were not the dainty, stylish kind one would find a young woman wearing on a beach somewhere; they were heavy and sturdily built, the part that would circle the ankle being heavy silver links, almost an inch wide, made of small, interwoven links. Suspended from that were small silver bells, too numerous to count. I picked one up, feeling their weight and hearing the soft jingle of the innumerable bells. “This izmit escort girl hopes Mr. Marlowe is pleased…she knows that he likes bells.” She said in a low voice. “I am pleased, little one.” I said, smiling at her. “Thank you.” And I really was, although a bit too heavy in my mind, they were beautifully made, and the thought of her wearing them stirred something in me that was indescribably erotic. “Will Mr. Marlowe put them on?” She asked in that same voice, her eyes lifting to meet mine, at the same time lithely stretching, lying on her back, raising a leg and offering a tiny ankle. I walked over to her, and with shaking hands, managed to fasten the intricate clasps around one offered ankle, then the other. Her eyes never left mine; after I finished, she got to her knees. She put her hands around my neck, gently pulling me down to her, kissing me; it was the softest, sweetest, most tender kiss I have ever known, even to this day. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Marlowe.” She said, running her fingers through my hair. “This girl loves you, very, very much.” I could feel the heat of her tiny body and smell her subtle scent, enhanced by a delicate perfume. At this point I could write volumes about morality and decency and choices and fate…but it would be irrelevant; the long and short of the matter is that every wall I had carefully built over the years to keep myself separate from others, from being hurt, from letting myself be vulnerable enough to love, were obliterated in that instant, gone as if they never existed. I put my arms around her, pulling her close, returning her kiss. “I love you too, izmit kendi evi olan escort little one.” I told her. “I’ll never let you go.” Very little else was said that night. Our kisses started slowly and tentatively; I ran my fingers over her body, touching her face, feeling and caressing every part of her. She reached up, unbuttoning my shirt, and ran her fingers through the curls of my chest hair and gently caressed my nipples. It was as if every nerve in my body was on fire, and it was then that I learned the true meaning of desire. Lust is a physical thing; what I felt is completely different-a wanting, a longing, an almost desperate need to take her, and at least for a short time, become one with her. She finished with my shirt and belt and was gently running short fingernails down the underside of my painfully swollen manhood, just as I found the tiny, swelling bud of her clitoris. The effect was instantaneous, her hips arching forward against me, and her breath exhaling in a staccato of short, hitching gasps. “Please, Mr. Marlowe.” She shuddered in my arms, seeming already in the throes of an orgasm. “L…let this girl pleasure you.” Her words came in between the slow, rhythmic convulsions that seemed to consume her. “No, little one.” I said, lying her down and removing what was left of our clothes. “The pleasure is mine.” Some hours later as we rested in the afterglow her head on my shoulder as she held me, fast asleep, I reflected on what had happened. We had made love, and it was different from anything I had experienced in my thirty-five years on this Earth. Although she was small, in every way small, she was surprisingly strong and, for lack of a better word, durable. After the few slow minutes that we were still after I entered her, letting her small form adjust to my size (It was exactly as my dream had been.), she started moving under me, urging me on, a radiant smile on her face.