("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
`6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`)
(_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-'
_..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
(((' (((-((('' ((((
K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
_________________________________________
Scroll down to view text
Archive name: wetdream.txt (M/F+, dreamland, mc)
Authors name: Backrub (bckrub@aol.com)
Story title : Wet Dreams
------------------------------------------------------
-= This work is copyrighted to the author © 1996. =-
Please do not remove the author information or make
any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-
commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of
commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration.
------------------------------------------------------
Wet Dreams (c) February 1996
by Backrub (bckrub@aol.com)
The August night seemed perfect: cool, still fragrant
with the scents of late summer. Peter could smell the
flowers in the front yards, the tomatoes and
cucumbers in the backyard gardens. He could hear
and smell the prowling of cats in search of midnight
mice, and the occasional bark of a dog fulfilling a
social contract to defend territory. A raccoon scur-
ried across the street on its was to knock over the
next available garbage can.
The full moon washed the quiet street, the pretty wood
frame houses, shrubs, lawns and shade trees on their
quarter acre lots. The tar and pavement street was
quiet under his feet as he walked down the center of
the lane, careless about cars in the middle of the
night. Bags of garbage and recyclables were already
sitting neatly at curbside, waiting for the next day's
pickup. As he passed a side street he glimpsed the tiny
cemetery which contained century-old graves. It reminded
him of the thin connections between past, present and
future. It could be any of the small towns he'd lived
in over the years: in Ohio, northern California, North
Carolina. On this particular night it was a small town
in upstate New York, where he'd lived for two years now,
undetected, so far.
He was just about six feet tall, 175 pounds, twinges
of grey in his dark hair at 35 years. A body strong
and flexible from years of gymnastics in high school
and college, and the contortions he'd practiced more
recently. He was dressed in black jeans, a black
button-down shirt and hightop black sneakers.
He'd first taken notice of his "gift" in his early
teens. Puberty was well underway and awash with the
usual hormones and fears, he'd noticed something
that no one else talked about and that he knew was
out of place. One night at summer camp he awoke in
the middle of the night and found himself awash in
voices, sensations, scents. There were loud,
boisterous and frightened young male voices, but no
sound came to his ears; they played only in his head.
In the distance he could faintly hear and smell
others.
He left the bunkhouse and walked through the quiet
woods. Unafraid of the night after being raised in the
country, he followed the dim voices across the camp
until they grew louder as he approached the girls'
bunkhouse. His ears detected no sound except the
crickets and the lapping of the lake shore, yet his
head was filled with sensations, people, sounds. And
his nose held a musky scent standing just outside
the girls' bunkhouse.
He suddenly felt himself in the lake and next to him
one of the girls was thrashing in the water, panicked,
unable to swim and terrorized. He reached over and
held her, swam with her to the dock, helping her up.
She relaxed, safe now, smiled and dissolved before
his eyes. He was back standing in front of the girls'
bunkhouse.
His mind reached out among the crowd of visions
and found one of his young campmates dreaming of
him; he willed it and entered her dream. They were
in the woods, away from the others. They were
kissing, pressed against a tree. He reached for her
breast with one hand and let the other drop between
her legs. She melted in his arms, moving against him
and whispering his name. Young and overcome with
feelings she had only masturbated in bed at night,
she pushed her 14-year-old body against his and bit
his shoulder as his hand roughly, but accurately,
rubbed her where she needed rubbing. She tensed,
shook and cried out in the woods. Then she
dissolved into her pleasure and out of the dream
state. Once again he stood in front of the girl's
bunkhouse.
Overcome, he stood there in the night, unzipped his
pants and stroked his young cock until he spurt out
onto the ground, awash in young women's dreams.
That was the first time he realized he had a gift, or
an abnormality. He found that he couldn't penetrate
fully conscious minds, but those in a dream state,
drunk, high, or those disconnected from normal
linear perceptive reality were accessible to him. He
could read and feel their thoughts, enter their
dreams, become part of their dreams, merge their
dreams with waking reality and fold their waking
night reality into a dream.
It almost ruined his life. The quiet night became a
cacophony of noise each night during his adolescence
until he learned to control its flow, shut it out.
But still he was drawn, as men are, to the dreams of
women and their scent.
In high school and college he could avoid the gross
insecurity of not knowing for sure if a woman was
interested in him. If they drank, got high or slept
and he was within a reasonable distance, he could
learn from them. He ignored some women socially and
could bring himself to those few who were interested,
whose hearts and libidos ached for him.
He came to realize, making lazy love in the middle
of the night during his sophomore year, that if the
woman was semi-conscious his mind could cloud her
subconscious: their lovemaking was a dream to her
that night. He could also sense exactly what his
lover wanted and needed.
His lust became not just the usual male craving for
women, but an obsession with the further joining of
minds that he could accomplish. Women's dreams called
out in the night, unheard but for him. He took satis-
faction in their hunger meeting his. Entering their
dreams, sharing and possessing them, controlling them
so that the woman felt that everything that happened,
including midnight couplings were nothing but a dream.
Simple seduction and fucking were a pale substitute
when compared to such intimacy.
And so, during most late nights in decent weather he
walked the street, listening. On some nights he went
home frustrated, but on others he crept into the
homes and dreams of others.
College girls home for Thanksgiving vacation having
gotten themselves deflowered and now constantly
hungering for more. He came to them in the night as
they slept, loving them, spurting in them, casting a
spell that merged their dreams with their conscious
lovemaking, with him in the night. In the morning the
memory of their lovemaking was only the whisp of
last night's dream.
Single women, divorcees, married women whose husbands
were away were all his lovers. He enjoyed reaching out
to women coworkers, asking their dreaming minds if they
were receptive to him, planting the fantasy in their
dreams, climbing through their bedroom windows and
converting dream fantasy into fleshy reality, all
bathed in dreamscape. On one night he even entered a
couple's bed chamber, cast the dream spell over both
of them and sucked her nipples while he ate her. She
sucked on his cock while her husband slapped into her
from behind.
He could never tell anyone, they'd think he was
crazy. He thought he was crazy, or at least a freak.
No one would notice as long as he could place the
dream spell on them as they awoke and as long as
they drifted back to sleep afterwards, with no fresh
memory of the dream. No point in making love, or
having sex with someone who's asleep, they made
love awake even though their minds told them other-
wise and the next morning the experience to them was
only a few scraps of melted memory, inseparable from
a dream.
* * *
It was 2 A.M. before Elizabeth found sleep with the
help of the brandy. She'd had to bring herself off a
second time that night, lying on her stomach this
time. One hand and a long body pillow beneath her
for her pussy to grind against, another slid
underneath her silk camisole, pinching her nipples.
As she fucked her hand she thought about being on
top of Robert again like this, riding that hard, strong
body, the base of his cock grinding against her clit as
her palm did now. She kissed and licked the bed just
as she would have kissed and licked his chest. As
she came, she imagined his hands rubbing and
squeezing her ass as they used to. She bucked and
squirmed against the bed, grunting and then she
called out his name.
"Shit! Bastard!" she screamed at herself immediately
thrown the sonofabitch out and yet she was still
obsessed. She'd had the strength to throw him out
when she realized that he'd been cheating on her
and spending their money on drugs. She'd denounced
him, punched him in the stomach and didn't start
crying until he'd left the house. She'd rolled up
their old futon, and bought a new bed and mattress.
The most overt signs of him had been removed from the
house, the home, the trust that he had so callously
betrayed.
But even before the final confrontation, when she
had begun to suspect that he was destroying their
lives, she'd continued to sleep with him. She was
so used to his presence, his hard body and his smell.
The sex continued to scratch an itch, even as she
ignored or suppressed her growing fear of his
betrayal. He had been so enthusiastic about being
trained and he knew just what moves she needed
from his tongue and fingers, when and why.
The rational part of her brain knew that there were
other men out there, ones who would not betray her
and would also be happy to learn how she liked her
pussy licked and fingered and how she liked to ride
men's cocks and faces. But recently, that part of her
brain hadn't been making as many appearances as
she'd like, leaving center stage for pain, anger and
paranoia. She directed much of the anger at herself,
anger that she still ached for him at night when her
heart and mind would prefer that he be run over by a
slow moving truck.
So here she was, again, sliding into sleep at 2 A.M.
with her fingers and the body pillow still wet from her
juices, her camisole scrunched up on her chest and
her tap pants lying on the floor. She'd started the
evening trying to fantasize a chance meeting-turned-
into-threesome with Brad Pitt and Daniel Day-Lewis,
like any healthy 34-year-old woman. Instead she
ended up with that shit Robert again...
* * *
He caught her scent on the night air. The scent of
arousal, a woman in heat. He also heard the need
coming from her mind: pain/lust/loneliness. He could
taste her juices, sweat and tears on her pillow. He
stopped in front of her house.
He stood there in the middle of the street at 2:30
A.M., listening and sensing her further. Minutes
passed as he listened and sensed. He knew she lay
in a first floor bedroom, that she'd recently fallen
asleep, and that she was alone except for a cat
curled up by her side. Her bedroom window was
open. A pizza box and beer bottle sat open in the
kitchen and a glass with traces of brandy remained
on her nightstand, next to a tube of lubricant. He
moved toward the house and drew himself up to the
window. In the moonlight he saw clothes strewn
across chairs, books piled on a desk with a personal
computer and the woman partially sprawled, asleep,
lying on her stomach on the bed. Covers had been
pushed aside and she partially straddled a body
pillow which he could tell was well acquainted with
her womanhood. He drew himself up and, as he had
done many times on the gymnast horse and parallel
bars as well as houses like this one, moved his legs
up, under and through, sliding himself silently into
the room and onto the floor.
He stood at the foot of her bed, watching her sleep.
So sweet, so beautiful. He could taste her already as
he unsnapped and unzipped his pants and pulled
them and his shoes off. The cat peered at him,
decided he was beneath feline concern and jumped
off the bed. He lay at the foot of her bed and brought
his mouth to her feet. He began to lick and suck her
toes. She began to stir and he projected his dream
consciousness over her, convincing her brain that all
that occurred should be perceived as her dream, and
that all was well.
He sucked on the toes of each foot, she giggled in
tickle reflex, still half asleep as he began to lick
and kiss his way up her ankles and calves. He lay a
series of slow, wet suction kisses behind each knee
for a full five minutes while a hand slid up the back
of her thighs and began to rub the cheeks of her ass,
thumb sliding between her legs to brush and rub
over her pussy lips. She began to move on the bed.
Moving up, he placed his mouth inches from her and
let his warm breath wash over her pussy lips. He
licked them several times and slid a finger between
the lips to wet them and breathed on her again. She
gasped quietly. He leaned forward and buried his
face against her, licking her with long tongue strokes
the length of her lips, reaching down with his tongue
to almost touch her clit.
He slowly fingered her as he moved his tongue to
her anus, flicking it rapidly there over and over.
She gasped and moaned as his wet finger slid upward
between her lips lengthwise and over her hardening
clit. He spread her legs wider and lay on his back,
moving his head beneath her, pulling her moist cunt
down onto his face. He licked her slowly and sen-
suously, snaking his tongue in and out of her and
up and down her pussy lips to her clit. One finger
slid in and out of her pussy while another, wet with
her juices, slid slowly into her ass up to the first
joint.
She let out a guttural moan, pushed the body pillow
completely aside and lay on top of him, beginning to
actively fuck his face, holding the top part of her
body up on her elbows.
She felt free from threat, fear or even awkwardness,
the thought of who or why rarely being raised in a
dream. Her primary thought was that she desperately
needed a friendly, willing mouth on her pussy, and
one was there right now. And it wasn't Robert's. To
the bottom of her subconscious, his spell had sent
the message: no fear, no anger, no pain, take refuge.
Her ass bobbed slowly up and down against his face as
she moaned, babbled and whimpered almost continually
now. When, after many minutes of this, his lips finally
surrounded her clit and his tongue slid between those
lips to slide rapidly back and forth over it, she
suddenly stiffened, and let out a cry that came from
deep within her. Her body twitched violently as she
locked her thighs around his head. He slid his entire
finger into her ass as she came, shivering, jolting on
the bed and over him.
He kissed his way down her pussy lips and then over
her ass cheeks as she went through her after
shocks. He rubbed her back, kissed her face, neck
and shoulders. He pressed himself against her and
rolled her over onto her back as she smiled and
moved to kiss the unknown lips and face. He spread
her legs wide and slowly entered her. She gasped
again, simultaneously remembering the pleasure and
comfort of a warm friendly body on top of her, taking
pleasure in her, and knowing that this was body was
there for comfort, not betrayal.
His muscular form writhed and bobbed above her,
sliding in and out, back and forth, waves of muscle
against her. She held him, enveloped him as he
nibbled and bit her neck. Her hands ran up and down
his back, through his hair and beard, grabbed his
ass. Her pussy held him and she whispered "Baby"
in his ear as he stiffened and came.
She wrapped herself around him, holding him warm
and close, still coupled until he softened. Later, she
lay in his arms, fully asleep as he softly ran his
fingers through her hair, gently kissed her, wondered
and knew what the fuck he was doing there.
At 4 A.M. she awoke and found herself still in there
and he guided her down between his legs. She
sucked him while one hand disappeared beneath her
to rub her pussy again. Her tongue swirled and
flicked across the sensitive parts under and on the
head as the pleasure rose again within her. He
moaned, threw his head back and became very
hard. Some time after she'd become very wet and
lightheaded, she moved over and then next to him,
continuing to fuck the night air with her hips. She
reached over to the night table for the tube of
lubricant and handed it to him.
"I want you to fuck me in the ass. Do you know how
to do that?"
She sprawled herself with her ass slightly in the air,
one hand reaching back underneath to rub her clit
while the other helped to support her. He moved behind
her and rubbed lubricant all over his hard cock. He
took a lubricated finger and placed the fingertip at
her puckered anus. He slid his finger slowly inside
her and she moaned, twisting her pelvis for a moment.
He kept his finger straight and fucked her that way for
twenty or thirty strokes, feeling the pleasure rise in
her, hand moving faster against her clit.
He stroked his slippery cock to his full hardness and
slipped his finger out of her ass. She let out a
disappointed whimper but sucked in her breath as
she felt his hands part the cheeks of her ass and his
cockhead pushed softly against her anus. He entered
her slowly and she whispered in reply. With half
of his cock inside her he moved slowly to use his
cock to massage her rectal muscles, grinding and
moving himself to massage her internally. As she
relaxed more, he entered her further and began the
rhythm of strong, but not rough strokes that made
her feel taken, possessed and forbidden as nothing
else could. Her hand was a blur over her clit by now
and she was moaning and whimpering nonstop. Her
body began to shiver almost uncontrollably as she
began to come, and as she did, she clamped down
on him, which was more than he could take. She
twisted around slightly so he could see her face in
a state of pleasure, looked into his eyes and told
him to come in her ass.
The orgasm was wrenched from him, her ass so tight
and pulsing that he did not even have time to lose
control. One second he had it and the next he felt
like a giant cock as the rush washed over his body.
He knelt there, his thighs shivering until he got
slightly soft and withdrew.
They kissed, and cuddled and he held her until well
after she had descended back into peaceful sleep.
He placed the body pillow back into her arms, dressed
and slipped back into the night, left with his sweaty
fantasies turned real, and now, his aching loneliness.
* * *
The next morning, Elizabeth awoke, Clem the Cat
still asleep against her. Her head was a bit fuzzy -
gotta quit the beer, pizza and brandy diet. If she
wasn't sure about her head and stomach, she was
more assured about her heart. She felt better than
yesterday. Not completely back, but better.
She vaguely recalled a dream, a dream in which she
was pretty sure she'd gotten laid. There was something
strange about it. Unlike the 7,945 other sex dreams
she'd had, she was pretty sure that in this one, she'd
come before she woke up.
Elizabeth showered, dressed and jumped into her car
for the drive to work. As she pulled into the parking
lot she thought about the man who'd been trying to
flirt with her for the last few weeks. Who was that
guy?
Maybe she would ask him to lunch.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 11