Dreams are strange creatures. They sometimes show us exactly what we want to see and they sometimes veer into a path which is absolutely alien to us. Lately, my dreams have been nightmares (at least the ones which I can remember) – bizarre nightmares where I get injected with powder cocaine and have a video dashboard or where the bar is across a huge expanse of park with lots and lots of tables, and I have no pad of paper with which to write down orders.
For someone as sexual as I, it may be a surprise to hear that I don’t often have sex dreams. And if I do, they are incredibly non-sexual in feeling, where sex plays a different role than arousal or release. But a couple nights ago, I had a dream and I was pleased to find I actually woke up wet.
In my dream, I am at my house with a beautiful, tall blonde. She’s got enormous breasts and long legs, and a deceptively sweet disposition. I’m attracted to her, but I’m unsure whether or not she’s interested. We decide to go over to her house, and, like we’re back in high school, the decision is based on the fact that her father isn’t home. The thrill of being alone with her excites me, and I’m eager to leave.
“No, wait,” she stops me. “I want you to wear this.” She points to my wardrobe and I pull out a skirt – black, white, and gray plaid and pleated so it flounces with every step. I own this skirt in real life, and wore it for Halloween, but I rarely ever wear it out because it doesn’t cover my ass. The curves of my cheeks can be seen peeking out underneath it.
Modesty is overridden by a desire to do as this gorgeous woman says. I put on the skirt and a pair of heels and we go to her house.
“Get down on the floor,” she demands, just seconds after we are alone in her living room. I obey, smiling, knowing that she is going to let me touch her. I’ve only been with a girl once before, freshman year of college, and it was tentative. We didn’t go far – she played with my clit over my panties, and I’m not sure I would have been ready to explore more if we had tried. But now, my dream-self has a deep yearning to run my hands over this blonde’s huge breasts, kissing her soft lips, feeling her grow wetter and wetter around my fingers.
“Lick me,” she says bluntly, sitting on a chair and spreading her legs in front of my face. She’s not wearing panties and I’m in awe of the pink pussy in front of me. It’s so… porn-star. Bare and symmetrical and stream-lined. I like it, but when I go in and give her a lick, she begins to laugh. I’m worried she’s laughing at my technique, but she looks down at herself. “I didn’t mean to have everything tucked away.”
The fantastical dream-blonde pulls at her labia and her pussy unfolds into something real – still bare like mine, but with lips and petals and flesh and it’s uneven and her clit sticks out, almost smirking at me, beckoning me to touch it. I run my fingertips over her clitoris and I remember her moans made me as pleased as if SHE were touching ME. I feel her heat and warmth and I finally lean in and really lick her.
I remember no taste in the dream, only that I made her gasp as I sucked on her gorgeous pink clit, hard between my tongue and lips and ever-so-gently my teeth. We alternated between silly, joking moods and the technical direction of a woman to an virgin pussy-licker, to even her dominant commands telling me to touch myself as I ate her out.
She crawls onto the floor with me and bends over on all fours, her slit visible between her thighs, and her ass framing it like a perfect photograph. I slide my fingers in and poke and prod, enjoying just looking at it before I finally go back to my original mission and let my tongue do the exploring. She wriggles and moans and -
And I wake up, a slick in my panties and a phantom beauty in my mind.
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