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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: wetdream.txt (MF, fant, nc?)
Authors name: Backrub (bckrub@aol.com)
Story title : Wet Dreams
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2001. Please
do not remove the author information or make any
changes to this story. You may post freely to non-
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Wet Dreams (MF, fant, nc?)
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 scurried 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 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'd only had
masturbating 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 stiff maleness until
he spurt on the ground in front of him, awash in young
women's dreams.
That was the first time he realized he had a gift, or an
abnormality. He could not 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 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 satisfaction 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 and suckings, was all 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
without satisfaction, 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 on 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
otherwise 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 sensuously, 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 activity, 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 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.
* * *
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 sexy 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 13