The Dream 43

Empty.

That was the only word that came to mind as I pressed my bottom against the cold porcelain tub. I sat inhaling steam while dipping my big toe in to test the water. The hot water could not even begin to warm me considering the way I felt. I slipped into the water, not caring if it burned my skin. Inside, I resembled a dead woman.

Months had passed since I had given up on my own happiness. I decided that if I couldn’t have the man I wanted, then I would be with a man who was secure. A man I knew would love only me. There was only one problem. To date there was no college course called “How To Make Yourself Fall In Love 101". I was still completely and hopelessly mad about the man I had given up. He was irrational, indecisive, stubborn, and time and time again, he had done nothing but hurt and disappoint me. Why did I love the idiot? I tried my best to swallow this bitter pill that life had dealt with only partial success.

I found myself sobbing amongst the bath wash and loofa sponge while Mr. Bubble looked on with a sadistic smile. I gave him a stern stare and said aloud without thinking how utterly insane I sounded “You bubbly pink bastard. Everything fizzles out in the end...even you. So go ahead and smile you stupid...” My eyes then shifted from side to side, sniffling to rid myself of any evidence that I had actually started crying. I felt ridiculous.

“I’m a fucking fruit cake.” I muttered while grabbing the towel and drying off.

The hallway echoed with my wet footsteps. I was alone for the remainder of the night. My significant other half was working until the wee hours of the morning, as usual. More than often he left the front door unlocked when he left. It was no big deal considering how far out in the country we lived. I didn’t even bother to check it. I rarely did anymore. If someone wanted me that damn bad, they could have me. At least I would have been a victim worth making an effort for with the time it took to drive there.

I remained somber as I dressed for bed and crawled into the covers. I picked up the horror novel I had started to read the night before and thumbed through the chapters before finding where I had left off.Murder, gore, and sex. Just the kind of thing a woman in a house sitting in the middle of nowhere needs to read while alone. No one had ever claimed that I was a normal young woman.

Before too long sleep had found me. I had flopped over on my side, book still in hand, mouth hanging open in a not-so-sexy manner. Dreams came and went in a senseless blur. Something about George Washington and a sick poodle. Where the hell did that come from?

Eeesh.

The most vivid dream began with feeling as if someone had pressed their weight down on the bed beside me. The gentle feather soft graze of lips and eyelashes touched the side of my face and ear. I started to dream that it was my boyfriend, home from work early. A quick flicker of a tongue brushed against the subtle flesh of my neck. I felt myself stir lightly. The area between my thighs began to throb with a growing, heated intensity.

A soft whimper caught in my throat. Against the back of my thigh, I could almost swear I felt my seducer’s erection. I decided I didn’t want to wake up from this dream. His hand crept across my side until fingertips found my nipple under the silk nightgown. It became taunt and with his attention hardened to a small peak beneath the dark material. The yearning between my legs had grown into a full blown fire. I think my dream lover sensed this too. His hand moved under the cover, pulling the crotch of my panties to the side. The hard tip of his manhood teased the moist treasure that eagerly awaited him. With ease, he guided himself into me from behind. I gasped aloud as every inch of him filled me. My eyes fluttered open as he began to thread himself in and out, each thrust as hard and deep as the first. He seemed to be savoring every moment, as if he had looked forward to it.

“This isn’t a dream...” he whispered in between deep breaths and quiet noises of his own. I felt his hot breath in my ear.

I felt my desire brimming, and it was damned near to boiling over. His hips moved in a slow, deliberate circle. A strong arm circled my waist as he then pulled me to him while his rhythm quickened. A hand, much larger than my own grabbed a handful of my long dark hair. I then craned my head back against his shoulder, looking at his face. It was then I realized that it this wasn’t my boyfriend at all. It was the man I had given up months before. There was no time to question or protest as every muscle in my entire body tightened and orgasm washed over me. He pressed his face against the back of my neck and cried out as he flooded me. I could feel him contracting inside of me with each stream while he grinded his hips as if to milk every last drop.

Covering the side of my face in kisses, we held each other. I didn't honestly know whether to tell him how much I loved him, or slap him senseless for walking through my front door uninvited. In the end, of course, my love for him prevailed. Through the night we talked, laughed, cried, and knew to be apart for a moment longer was a mistake. We agreed that when the time was right, we would be together. We were a match made in hell. Fate had spoken.

Based on real dream that was inspired by an incubus of daemonic proportion.