Dream

College

The day had been one of those that you always dread. It seemed like I was speaking Chinese to everyone I met. Nothing made sense and I had to explain myself too many times. I needed a break from everyone, so I headed to Garcias for a few beers, bad Mexican food and the anonymity that makes it my sanctuary.

I drank too many Coronas and when I fell into my bed, I barely saw the ceiling spinning off before I fell asleep or passed out.

I rolled restlessly and woke up in the middle of the night, sweating in my clothes. I sat up and undressed and lay back down. The frijoles were working on me as my swollen head pounded from too much beer and too little restraint. I drifted back to sleep, seeking relief from my self-induced torment.

I woke exhausted and when I rolled onto my side, was surprised to feel a sticky wet spot under me. I scooted over and shot out of bed. I couldn’t have been so drunk I pissed my bed. At least I hoped not. Quick flashes of my future wearing Depends flew through my mind as I fought to stay calm.

Then I realized it was not piss but cum that had spread out on my sheet. It had been years since I had a wet dream and I was surprised to find that it could still happen. As I grew older and had sex regularly, that reflex had laid dormant. I was puzzled until bits of the night started creeping into my consciousness.

I sat at the edge of the bed as I started to remember the dream that was so strong and vivid that it took my body over.

I vaguely remember the feeling of my cock slamming violently into a tight, hot pussy. I could hear the moans and groans and guttural cursing of my partner, driving me on and challenging me to “tear her pussy open”. I smiled as more of the dream flowed from my subconscious and I remembered, pulling her nipples as I drove my cock ever harder into her.

Her large soft breasts filled my hands as I roughly innovia escort felt them. Her nipples begged for my thumbs to flick across them.

It was all coming back to me and my cock stiffened at the recollections.

I struggled to fill in the details of this fantasy, and as I did, more images flew across my mind. Images of her crawling in bed with me. Images of her kissing my chest and then my mouth. Images and feelings of her wet mouth sucking my cock hungrily inside. Images of her rubbing her tits over my face, taunting me. Images of her holding her tits around my cock as she jacked it with her globular flesh.

And as these pleasant memories of a fabricated and imaginary encounter washed through my mind, more troubling ones also appeared. I remembered in my dream seeing her hanging in her room, then men removing her and I shuddered, wondering how such an unerotic scene could have been spliced in my fantasy dream.

As I thought about that, I tried to reconstruct the order of the dream to better understand how I could move from such a pleasant moment to such a horrific one. It made no sense, and I finally gave up and wrote it off to too much beer and bad food. Hallucinations were not new to me. Usually they involved colors and naked young girls, although once, in 1972 after dropping acid, I saw spiders in my walls for 200 hours.

I went to the shower to shake that bad feeling left by the dream. As the water sprayed down on me, I tried to focus on the sexual part of last night’s nocturnal emissions. My hand pulled my cock and soon I was into the ritual again. That familiar sensation blocked out the bad stuff and replaced it with imaginary screams of pleasure from the lady I was fucking in the shower. I was insatiable, and she begged me to stop before she was ruined forever by my monster cock. I was generous to her and when istanbul escort I shot my spurts of cum against the tiled walls, I let her fade from my mind and return to her room in my mind until I needed her again.

I dressed and grabbed a bagel and juice and sat at the computer for my morning pervathon. The site was slow and I cursed them for trying to improve things again. Finally, the familiar colors filled the screen and I scrolled down the cam list. Clicking as I went, I chose the regulars and a couple of new ladies. I always like the new ones. It’s sort of a contest to see whether they start off showing their pussies or tits or have to be coaxed and seduced into it by flattery and mass attentions.

I am jaded by my own perversions and I figure that anyone on a cam site is there to show off. Maybe they have to be subtle to retain mystery or to be sure their family doesn’t catch them being naughty for the world, but we all yearn for that little hot moment of someone watching our private demonstrations and explorations. If my cock was huge and I hadn’t lost most of my body’s tone and muscularity, I would be in the thick of it myself all the time. I limited my appearances to select times and always choreographed my positions for maximum advantages. No belly shots for me.

Anyway, my mind flowed with these nonsensical thoughts as I went down the list. My special friend of last night’s guest appearance was on cam. I moved her image to the top center of the monitor and watched her as she sat there. I though her cam was frozen at first, then realized she just wasn’t very animated. She was typing. The cam showed her blouse and keyboard and hands. Her shirt was stretched over her full breasts. I enlarged the image and could see her nipples pushing against her clothing. I wanted to find her in chat and tell her to “show them big tits”, but kadıköy escort I used better judgement and just watched her.

When I finished my bagel, I found her and said good morning. She was polite, but not overeager to see me. I bided my time, until she finished whatever she was doing. The chat was mindnumbing, but she finally started commenting and I joined in.

“I dreamed about you last night”

“Sure you did. LOL I have heard that one before”

“No. Seriously. Part of it was good and part was bad”

Semiclever comments filled the screen as other rommies attempted to foil my attempts.

“Tell me in PM” she finally said.

“OK…What did you dream?”

“I dreamed that I fucked you last night and it was so strong that I had a reallife wet dream during the dream.”

“LOL”

“And I dreamed that you hung yourself”

A full minute went by without a response.

“Are you there?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“I think maybe you did that in my dream because I think some of your writings are dark and full of dispair and somehow it took that feeling I had and generated that scarey scene.”

“Do you think I feel that way?”

“I think you are full of questions about why things can’t be better and you feel shortchanged by life sometimes, but we all do that, I said.

I paused for a moment and then, not wanting to become too serious and maudlin, continued typing..

“Actually I think all you need is to get laid.”

“LOL….Think so???”

“Yep. I have experienced that before myself and it helps a lot. How about if I meet you Saturday night. Get a baby sitter and some new lingerie and let’s go for it.”

“As if..”

“Then if I can’t fuck you back to sensibility, at least stay out of my dreams with the morbid shit. LOL”

“OK, Saturday it is.”

“Good. I am late now. I’ll email you tonight when I get back and we can set a time and decide which hotel to go to…lol.”

I shut the computer off and started to leave, but remembered the wet sheet. I went to the bedroom and pulled it off. A silver necklace fell to the floor. I froze as I stared at it. A cold sensation enveloped me.

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