Exhaustive Dream

 He came into my dream... and I came with him

🔞

 
   Chilled nights, either from the light graze of fall or an over-exuberant AirCon unit pushing its Freon recycled air thru dust and cobweb-covered outlets, caressing my shoulders and back under my thin bedsheet. Stubborn is my will and I shall die within my self asserted statement to scoff at the chills. My arms provide slight warmth of my side and breast as I lay to my side awaiting the sandman... or at least a sleep fairy.

   Drifting asleep... the night becomes blank and my being and awareness of life cease as my body shuts down into a sleep mode I can never watch. At some point unknown to my mind - the stage of wistful parallel arrives, REM as scientists would call it. Life is faded... I now simply lay in bed - position changed as I lay on my back wearing my same satin nightgown and that same chill seems to have followed me in its own perverse whim.

   Images are a haze; shapes and bodies are almost silhouettes and protected from logic. His warm hand touches my face... my cheek is warmed, my senses heightened and my self-preservation alerted. My slumber should not bear feeling nor reality - yet his weight is felt beside me. He's sensual with me at night... we are no strangers to this moment. He has visited me in my dreams quite a few nights and his touch has always been warm, welcoming, and premeditated. 

   My breath hastens as our lips touch slightly, he teases and he has full access to my whims and wares that no reality-based form would be told or learn. My mind gives him traits of a current love a current being that I am both indebted and gifted the kindness and occasional lust of.  This is of course not him... this figure has no reservations and no reason to question his actions upon me. He already knows his privileges and simply acts upon them for my reaction and relief. 

   His head turns... our lips simply graze as his cheek brushes my nose and I feel his breath in my ear... his licks along my collarbone. He plays and toys... fangs dig lovingly into my neck as the hand once caressing my cheek holds now my free hand down to the bed. Mine in his as to keep us connected in this fake world of his design. My breathing in this world of limbo heightens and my chest becomes heavier. The scent of this world is almost nonexistent, yet my aura gets hints of some form of scent to which that will keep me calm and obedient.  

   His loving foreplay lasts only a short period as he soon rises from hovering above me to display his dominance... my hand reaching for his face in its moment of freedom... quickly falling to my chest as his hand removes the straps from my shoulders. The nightgown fabric hangs and sips from my grip... his warmth and touch peak my senses and perks my nipples as they endure the sudden roller-coaster of mild warmth... chilled air and warmed aggressive touch. I become his source and grasp at his head as he plays and nibbles. My reason has left... I am now his to take.

   My breasts feel the massage and bites as my hands claw to sheets. He's good with his ways and it makes my body tense in pleasure... my legs instinctive to this moment close together while lifting askew as I simply let this feeling of my bust be massaged and played. Feeling their girth weigh into his hands and the fat of which pucker from between his fingers. My dream self is in heaven as she is roughly squeezed as one squeezes melons at the market. He's very rough... and sadly I know that a part of me that I try to forget liked this too much.

   My legs baring together signal him his next act as his hand moves around and over my hips to my rear. Under my leg, his fingers lightly try to reach the space my instincts close off. Yet unlike that of Fort Knox - the gates are easily brought open by his hands and almost distasteful use of his tongue to the under of my breast. The touch upon his prize sends races of tense instant climaxes to my body and mind. I am already beyond my limit, out o practice from the abstinence I have practiced - or have at least tried to follow. Even within a state of dreaming, I feel the embarrassment of such a natural human result. I try to use my hand to cover this shame I have committed and he simply moves it to begin the most unspoken of love-fueled acts. Such details even in recollection of my dream cannot be placed here as text. Anyone of the right age and mind would know the next card he presented and my back quickly arched... Sheets of my bed torn within my claw's tangle. 

   In dreamland.. it has been a passing of time... tonight our visit was less serious. He has slowly been working his way to a perfect union of specter and human. In Prior visits he simply undressed me... we kissed... he gave me foreplay. upon the end of each, he would leave me to my own wills and I awake foggy-minded. I awake this morning... vibrantly remembering and mere seconds after such a powerful climax that I find it has reached into the real world. My nightgown was torn and wrinkled... my bare breasts red and my bedsheets recently laundered in need of a return visit to the wash. Once again he has pushed my boundaries... alienated me to my core... leaving me a selfish whore begging for more whilst laying in my bed of reality... alone... wanting to go back.  
 
Those of which we all know with the warped mine will call it a wet dream. Romantic dreams... Dream Masturbation... I call it a deep reality of one's own untapped power of self. For which your mind may take you to such of a place, time, and moral which you give yourself to the world of make-believe only to be so taken away by it; that your body acts out to the actions. This was the most real dream I've had this month of him... I know he may be the dream version of the man I know and who has an unwritten and unspoken bond with benefits. This man in reality would not have the forward assertion to do such actions. I know I would possibly wake an entire house up with such actions on a night of me visiting friends. Again - not literary per se and yet I feel important. I may be broken and I may have a long journey ahead to truly find and be myself. Yet the stresses of my journey are greatly reduced by such an open mind I have allowed giving me such vivid moments of passion and lust.  
Now I simply wait on the washing machine... as I let the artificial spring rain scent overtake the scent of my personal lust and humanity. A shower was already had to cleanse my own body... while it may also have served a moment of self-release and for me to hear my voice in reality. These are not sinful actions.. yet simply moments of our soul cleansing and expressing the moods needed to keep us going.

If you enjoy my mildly erotic writings... let me know. Please don't be creepy about it... especially if you are a guy. Guy's need to read these kinds of text both to understand the power of sensual acts and can also learn what a girl may enjoy. Men are separated from Boys when they can gaze upon the figure of a woman and see the art of the universe - not the size or shape of her breast... her butt.... or their penis. Remember that...  It's been too long in the dark for me to realize that. I owe nothing to men... they owe nothing to me. We owe each other beauty, love, and companionship. None of those 3 require sex or exposed skin.