I’m not sure what’s going on with me lately. This is the second weekend in a row in which I had an orgasm, or an almost-gasm, during sleep. I’ve had this happen before, but it’s fairly uncommon for me. It maybe happens once or twice a year, if that, not once or twice a week.
This year has been about focussing on me. Define “focussing on me” as not allowing myself to get distracted with men, and to spend that time and energy doing things/achieving goals for myself. This blog and the freelance writing gigs that have come from it are part of that. My new career another, and my distance running, another. I needed to date “me” for a change. For awhile I told people I was dating running when they asked if I was seeing anyone.
After my FWB Norris and I stopped being intimate in April, I’ve been limiting myself on lovers. I have one other FWBs who is long distance. We see each other, at best, once a year, and we are not always physical lovers when we do see one another. It usually depended on if I was seeing someone or not. This year we got to see one another twice (one weekend in May, and a week in late July), and were intimate sexually on both occasions. Other than that, though I have had offers, I have not taken any other lovers. I’m at the point now where I feel I am at a place where I can possibly start dating.
Clearly this lack of feeding my sexual appetite has its side effects.
What follows is the dream I was having…
This morning I was dreaming about a man who came to pick something up from me, a sofa or something. In my dream world he was supposedly the brother of my ex-boyfriend “P’s” current girlfriend/life partner. The guy was being an ass to me, and so I refused to give him what he came for. He back pedaled and started to make nice. To punish him I lashed out by telling him that I have been having sex with “P” all the while he has been dating his (the mean guy’s) sister. He gets pissed off. He insists I’m lying, and I staunchly state that this has been going on for years between us, and how “P” just can’t give up having sex with me.
(Reality: While it is not true that I have been having sex with my ex, we did have a sexually explicit conversation on several occasions, always with him initiating, where he told me how much he missed our sex life together. He also suggested we have webcam sex sometime. I was surprised because this guy has always proclaimed himself a very monogamous creature. We still have not gone forward with the webcam sex, and all sexual exchanges in words have ceased.)
Continuing in the dream…
We are now traveling in this guy’s truck together to bring whatever it is that he has picked up from me to someplace unknown. He has morphed into someone else now, though I still believe him to be the same person as before. Neither version of this dream person I know in real life. I tell him that “P” will never marry his sister. That he will always just be her “boyfriend”, but will never commit to her. He agrees that he knows/feels this as well. Time passes and somehow I am talking about fellatio with this guy, and describing in glorious Technicolor detail how much I enjoy giving head, and how I feel it should be done. This guy is on the hook now, he’s hanging on every word I say. I can feel the energy of his want filling the air between us. I tell him I will show him.
We wind up in a house I do not know, and I suspect it is this man’s house. I don’t know him at all. I never have. He is just the supposed brother of “P’s” girlfriend.
I am so turned on. I can feel every inch of my skin buzzing with the pulsating electricity of arousal. It’s very real. I become aware that it is real outside of dreamland too. It’s unmistakable. I’m not attracted to this dream man, not in the least, and still I pull his awaiting erection from his pants, and lower my head between his legs as he sits on the edge of the bed before me. The room is half in shadows born of closed curtains on a cloudy afternoon turning to dusk.
His cock is perfect, and I lower my mouth to take him inside. I admire the curve of his sleek erection, the veins taut and pulsing beneath his latte colored skin, and how perfect he fits inside my mouth. I make a circle with the thumb and forefinger of my left hand, and clasp them around the base of his shaft. He’s just the right size; long enough that the slow way I suck him is a journey that I can savor as I admire the look and feel of him between the moist grasp of my lips, but not so much that I cannot take all of him in, if I desire. If I had to measure, maybe he’s 7 inches, maybe 8. I’ve never measured such things, so who is really to say. And he’s thick, the way I like cock to be, so that if I were to ease my pussy down onto him, I would revel in the feeling of being completely filled. I love the feeling of being filled. They say size doesn’t matter, but it does. I never thought it did until I had an experience that taught me otherwise. Anyway, back to the dream at hand…or should I say, mouth.
The waves of orgasm are building. I know I am going to come any moment just from sucking this most perfect dream cock. I know this orgasm will happen in my real body too, I know for SURE. The intensity is overwhelming. My clit is on sweet fire, teetering on the perilous edge of full “shark eyes” (That one’s for you, Fern), orgasm.
But then my “waking reality self” taps my “dream self”, and does a “What the fuck?”
You are not even attracted to this guy! You don’t know this person! You don’t like this person, because again, you don’t know who they are! You are sucking the cock of a dream stranger whom you don’t even find sexually appealing. Not in the least! You would never like this person in real life.
So, I pull my mouth off of perfect dream cock. I pull myself down off the shuddering pleasure of my edge.
I don’t want to be with someone I do not like.
Standing up, I pull his head to rest against my stomach. This dream man doesn’t seem confused, but he seems sullen. His head is tilted so his eyes look downward. The way I hold it against me is if I am comforting him. No words between us are spoken.
I think for fear of, not sure of what, I take his cock in my hand and stroke him to orgasm. I guess I feel like I owe him this much. It’s a strange feeling to feel like I “owe” another person sexual pleasure. I’d like to say I have never felt that way, but on occasion, I have. It is uncomfortable to say the least. When he comes, his cock doesn’t feel like it does when I do this with a real cock. I can still feel the tension in his erection, like an orgasm that never happened, but did.
This is the end of the dream.
I woke up feeling confused, feeling uncertain, feeling disturbed.
I think my body is telling me that it needs to have its desires met, but to be cautious about who I choose.
It’s easy to look back and chose to flirt with lovers from our past. They are “safe”, but like my college literature professor told our class, “You should never go back and have a relationship with someone from your past. They suited you for who you were at that time, but you’ll have grown past who you were then, and they will not meet the present you’s needs”. Smart words. I laughed at the time because I was married to the guy who was my high school romance. I wish he had said that about a year earlier than he did, but I digress.
Don’t look back to be “safe”, and don’t choose idly with those I meet now.
Smart dream world.
**Footnote: It is true that “P” will never marry his current girlfriend, although they have been together now since 2006/7. I have asked him why not, but he never has an answer. I guess it’s commitment issues. Who is to say for sure. He declines to answer, though once he said she asked the same thing.