I has a dream last night. It was about a tall woman with thick brown hair down to her jawline and a savage gleam in her eye. Calculating and cruel, her lips twisted into a smirk as she bends others to her desire. She wore a dark suit, the collar of her burgundy blouse framing her throat as it rose high towards her chin. Her hands were small, but her fingers were very long. She kept them entwined in front of her as she leaned across the table between us. She whispered something to me, though the words slip from my mind, and reached beneath the table. Her fingers were frigid against me, and I swelled eagerly to meet her touch. She smirked at that, tight lips curling up at the corners. Everything about her was sharp, predatory. Her narrow jaw ending in an almost pointed chin, thin lips, eyes that tore you apart and learned everything about you. Her cheekbones were high, and her deep brown hair hung forward over her face as she leaned towards me. I gasped as her nails raked against me and bucked against the table. Her smirk widened. She stroked me gently, her fingertips still freezing, until a hot bead of desire welled up on my head. She brought her hand away, back up onto the table, and pressed the bead between my lips. I nibbled her fingertips as she began to unbutton her blouse, pale fingers pushing each deep red button through to reveal more of her smooth white skin. I shuddered in desire as she slipped her hands across the warm swell of her breasts, constrained only by the jacket she still wore. The red of the shirt emphasized every curve of her body, from her sharp collarbone to the top of her stomach. She took my hands and drew me to sit on the table. She pushed each hand beneath her shirt to where her nipples stood stiff and waiting, and purred as I rolled them between my fingers. I took her breasts in my hands, thumbs still caressing her nipples, and she leaned forwards. Slowly, she pressed her lips tight down my length. Inch by inch she moved, until my length was buried in her throat. She held me there, her tongue playing against my shaft, my hands still toying with her breasts. She began to move, bobbing up and down my length, hair brushing my thighs each time her lips reached the base. She moved faster and faster, and I pinched and pulled at her breasts. Within a few minutes I was panting, cock shuddering in desire, moments away from my climax. She pulled away, grabbing my hardness with both hands, squeezing tight and twisting. She stared me in the eyes and commanded “On my breasts.” I opened her shirt and jacket, her breasts shaking as she begins to pump me. Her nipples are small, but her areolas are not. She brings her elbows together, her breasts swelling even larger as I reach climax. I burst onto her, the first stream coating her arms and falling to her stomach. She leans forward and my next burst coats her nipple, the one after falling down the line between her breasts. Again and again I burst on her, until my climax subsides and her breasts glisten with my cum. Then she looked me in the eyes and spoke three words. “clean it up.”