For me, dreams are a powerful experience. Some people don’t ever have them – I know my kitten rarely does – while others I’ve had the pleasure of being close to can’t remember theirs or find theirs to be unremarkable.
Mine, for some reason, are always potent. Whether they’re me reliving my past failed marriage and listening to a spectre spit my own perceived failures, dreams of fantasy and horror that inspire me to put pen to paper – or sex dreams – a manifestation of my inner bohemian sensibilities or just cotton-candy sex dreams to pass the time until morning? Or both.
When it comes to sex dreams, I feel everything intensely. Let me paint you a picture – I can feel the sexual tension within the dream, I can feel my cock ease into this faceless lady, feeling her around me. I can feel pleasure, a scratch, a bite.
I wake up with my cock at full hardness, pressing into the bed – and now, for today’s sex dream, I woke up with my fists balled, my nails digging into the palms of my hands. As I write this now, my other hand is still clenched, unable to let that sharp pain from my nails subside. Chasing a dream, I suppose.
The dream in question was a tale of a family divided. I played a brother driving his mother into town, listening to her tell me of their deadbeat husband. Their lackadaisical husband, soon to be divorced.
I dropped my fictional-mother off into town, and then made a bee-line for my fictional-sister to share the news. I found her in the bedroom of her house, apathetic.
The surrealism of the dream didn’t stop there. Anger turned to lust, lust scorched my skin as I crawled upon her bed – and suddenly, in her eyes, I saw it – the acceptance of the need in her own mind.
In the waking world, it all sounds like a bad porno in a low-rent room adorned with pink detailing everywhere – but in the moment, it was frantic. Nothing else mattered but the rhythm between us, the feeling of slipping into her right cunt and feeling her warmth beneath me. I held her arms above her head, light BDSM creeping into my dreams, teasing my lucid self to go further. To dominate,
Before I could come, I awoke dazed to a winterly morning, the chill kissing my shoulders and sending an icy trail down to my bare ass. My fists were balled, my Cock was hard and I had to catch my breath.
I will traverse this day in a primal mood, I will tell you. The closeness of an orgasm will linger as I set about my daily tasks, a low pulse in my Cock will distract me as I attempt to work. And it’s working – I’m here, writing on this blog. But now I must get up, get dressed and greet the day.
I’m sure I’ll dream again soon.