From: bckrub@aol.com (BCKRUB)
Reply-To: bckrub@aol.com (BCKRUB)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Backrub: Wet Dreams (mf, dreams)
Date: 29 Aug 1995 23:04:31 -0400
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
Message-ID: <420kfv$dhp@newsbf02.news.aol.com>

WARNING: This story contains graphic descriptions of

sexual behavior.  If this offends you, or if you are

below the age of consent in your community, please do

not read any further.



This story is a fantasy.  We still live in the age of

AIDS, and although the characters in this story do not

necessarily take "safer sex" precautions, that should

not be construed as the author's advocacy of unsafe

sex.





WET DREAMS 







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 racoon 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 young cock

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 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

afterward.  It had been three weeks since their

confrontation and she'd 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, 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 the

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.