Sex Dream

I'm at a dance, a sock hop in my poodle skirt and white anklets. I'm alone in room outside the dance hall when I meet up with Stacy October. Stacy and I want to fuck. We climb up a hay loft to a bed and my roommate Ana is there. Stacy and I get under the covers and try to be quiet but Ana knows and gets up. She is angry and storms out. I follow apologetically, she accepts. I remember my old bedroom upstairs.

I take Stacy and run into two other girls who want to come; we say it's fine. Stacy begins telling me that her canal is high - her cunt stumps people, it seems. I fuck her. It is delicious and feels so amazing to give a longstanding dyke, since high school, an orgasm. I am privileged to eat her gorgeous red pussy. She cums and ejaculates like a cock with more precision. She shoots her cum. It is red. She shoots it all over the room in streams. I am delighted.

One of the other women is grossed out but the other is into it. The scene changes.

Stacy and I are clothed and going back to the dance. Stacy mentions spanking and I want her again. I take her back to a room and am just beginning to slap her fine tan ass when a panic hits the air. She dresses instantly and goes out, I follow behind. It is a chaotic crowded room and I don't know where she's gone.

People begin screaming, the lights go out. Some one is trying to make an announcement. I hear the exits are sealed but head for them anyway. It is pandemonium, no one is leading so I go my own way. I make it outside cautiously and see a far off explosion. People are scarce now and there are a lot of airplanes over head. I hear some yelling "China! China!" and I don't know if they're enemies or allies. I continue ahead to a hill. I climb it.

I realize I don't know what's over the hill simultaneously as a war character mounts it. He is a solid man with a hard chest and barrel belly. He is wearing a gas mask, faceless. The sky is in it's purple pre-dawn state as the man towers, a dark figure over me.

I wake.

Two friends are better than One

Let me tell you about a dream I had. It's about my new friends, Shayne and Chill. Shayne and Chill are 2 cool cats who just moved to my hood from the liberal left coast. They're outgoing and social. When I met them, I let me eyes wander up and down their different bodies. Shayne's a short and slim woman with great curves and a sexy Monroe piercing. Chill's tall and lanky, with quirky style. He's got those sinewy arms where the muscles and tendons are easy to see. I love imagining arms like that grasping hard cock or pumping into wet holes. I kinda hoped they were singles, maybe 2 queers. Then again, maybe they could be a kinda queer couple, that'd be fun.

I met them at an otherwise boring soiree. Afterward I was turned on from mingling with the possibilities these two presented, if just by living down the street. By the time I got home my snatch was tingling from all the fantasy I cooked up.

Chill is behind Shayne with her pants around her ankles. His big hands grip swaths of her juicy peach ass while she bucks up back at him. The dimples above her tail catch sweat while I rock on the couch getting my paws wet. In a feat of fantasy Chill pulls her easily up and around to his front. She sits on his cock, as he holds her up, and locks her ankles behind him. I rub my clit against my jeans. I rock back and forth on the seams watching, and swimming in the sound of their moaning.

I almost didn't make it through my house door with my clothes on. I fell to my knees then face down on my bed. I popped open the snaps on my pants and dove at my cunt, heaving and panting. I started out simple, just wanting my clit. I massaged my hard bead, then grabbed a vibrator. I rocked on it, thinking about his hands, her ass, her lips and tits until I came and came and drifted off to dreamland.

And dreamland was good to me; let me keep the ride going. In my dream, I got to be bad. Shayne was not physically present in my dream. Her absence helped up the naughty ante. Say you found your hot girlfriend arched back with another sexy woman lapping at her juice, how upset would you be? It was me and Chill in the dream, a much less acceptable standard.

He and I are in houseful of faceless strangers. Somewhere in the house, unsuspecting, or maybe jealously lurking, Shayne was mingling too.

I help Chill with something, maybe spiking the punch. Then Chill helps me find the other living room. He is a very accommodating man. Chill stands closer to me, like we might kiss. His face looks down and his lips part. I whisper something and he makes me laugh. The tension of desire is building in my stomach; it is like we are in a game, a fantasy dream dance. The scene shifts again.

We're at a party and he's looking at me. He's flirting and pinching. It's all I can do keep a hint of innocence. In so many fantasies I feel my cunt throbbing. In real life before I've been thankful that my hard-on is invisible when standing. No matter how big my larger than average clit gets, it can't be seen through my panties.

My dream self wonders if he can't see my thoughts expanding. I'm having visions of fucking him, riding him hard. I'm on my knees totally naked; I'm blowing him. I suck him. My face is wet with stringy saliva and my throat is full of his long firm sword.

There's another scene change and we're in a hallway. Never far from the sensual imagery and sensation is the even more exciting thought that Shayne is just around the corner, just about to walk in on us. Maybe I'm bent over, with my clothes on but disheveled, and with Chill's thick, hard cock pelvis deep inside me when Shayne rounds the corner and freezes in horror. The shame of being an adulterer and betrayer ups the thrill.

Chill embraces me in a shadow and pulls me into a kiss. Shayne's sure to find us but I can no more ignore my hunger for this man than I can for oxygen. I'm dizzy and out of control. Quickly he gives in to his sex and his hand glides down my body. Just as Chill begins to squeeze my ass and I'm about to commit another cardinal sin my alarm goes off and I wonder again if they might like to swing.

Who is blamed for the fall of kingdoms?

If my bookkeeping is detailed enough I’ll be able to go back to see if the waning moon is the trickster egging me on.
There are boring parts of the story, but I’m not going to start with socks getting bunched in the heels of my shoes, nor how I spent 5 minutes in the bathroom talking to the turtle when I realized I didn’t have my phone. That’s for later. That’s the color.
I’ll start at the end actually. The end is the part where I dreamt things and I don’t want the ethereal fog of that memory to burn off while I type the stuff that’s more solid. It’s the bits right before waking that I remember of course, the tip of the iceberg – if you will.

I talked dirty to Tony, but didn’t see him. I was speaking as if one of us was a God and the other could hear by some force of omnipotence. I talked using ‘dirty’ nouns like cunt, cock, and feather and Tony walked from his bedroom onto my dream stage in a vintage button down, spring fabric fedora, and bouncing straight hard on. I placed us next to an elevator and added a camera person as well as onlookers, 3 of them, 6 floors up. We enter the elevator and I drop to my knees before him.
The camera person stands back in the corner and somehow we are well lit enough to be filmed. I get ready to fulfill my hunger on his dick. We love being watched and I love giving blow-jobs. I love sucking and looking up. I love sucking and hearing moaning. I love sucking and running my hands up a torso, I love seeing a head loll back and a throat grow taut. The camera is on us; I am dripping, the bell dings, 6th floor.
Two men and a woman, all in business suits, are waiting at the door open. Two of them gasp audibly; one of them is unmistakably aroused.
Think about it, really. Which of the two? Whose sex drive was always idling? Who is blamed for the fall of kingdoms?