A Thrilling Dream

You crept into my dreams last night, Thrill. That is the only way I see you these days.

In my dream, as in real life, it had been weeks since I had seen you, even longer since I had touched you. I met you and Jerry at the hole in the wall. You were, of course, in your strategically selected defense seat, facing the door. Jerry sat on the bench facing the bar. I came in and sat next to Jerry so that he was between us.

I avoided your gaze. I did not want to make eye contact. It had been so long since I saw you. I wondered how I would react. Was the magic still there? The magic that caused me to break into a grin whenever I saw you. That feeling that hit right between my eyes and between my thighs simultaneously. The magic that made me melt and salivate. I did not know what frightened me more, that it wouldn’t be there any more, or that it would.

I didn’t want to look into your eyes…you would see too much. I didn’t want to hear you speak…I’d be lost to you…but, you said, “Hello, ‘Bunny’ ”. I lifted my eyes to meet yours. I blushed and smiled. It hit like a lightening bolt - the magic…right between the eyes and thighs! I had to cover my face with my hand. I could only lower and shake my head. I said hello. I closed my eyes to regain my composure. I slowly lifted my head and opened my eyes and looked at you again. No smile, no grin…no giddiness this time. Still magic, but good and controlled. Just me admiring a man…in all his splendor. Me admiring you. I had grown up!

I asked you if you brought your air guitar. You said you always did. I asked if you would be playing it today. You said you would. I watched you intermittently as the three of us spoke. It was good, relaxed conversation between friends. Sharing drinks, exchanging opinions, each respecting the other’s opinions. And the magic, quietly and continuously still hitting its targets. I finally had to stand and excuse myself to the ladies room. As I passed you, I stopped, leaned down and whispered in your ear the indisputably proven truth, “You are still the sexiest man alive.”

I went into the ladies room, closed and locked the door. I pulled down my pants and leaned against the wall (a now familiar stance for me in public restrooms after leaving your company). I put my hand against my hairless mound and slipped my finger inside my pussy. Wet! I rubbed the moistness back and forth to saturate my clit. When there was enough moisture there to last for the duration, I set about the task of bringing myself to orgasm in that tiny space, with visions of you in my mind to aid the process. With my middle finger of my right hand, I manipulated, rubbed, pressed and played my clit like the instrument of pleasure that it is. It hardened and swelled, then retreated…too intense. It was too intense: the place, the vision, the longing. I attacked my clit, calling it back to its duty. Demanding that it bring me to that place I needed to be. It answered the call. My body began to jerk as it does when I bring myself to a clitoral climax. My back bumped against the wall behind me. I strained back a moan. My eyes watered. My knees buckled. I rode the wave of my orgasm until it slowly allowed me to regain control. By this time I was stooping, my pants around my ankles, my pussy sopping wet, my middle finger wrinkling from the prolonged exposure to my moisture…much like fingers do when in water for too long a time.

When I had the strength to, I pressed my back against the wall and pushed to rise to a standing position. I thought, Déjà vu…I often find myself in this position in public restrooms while you are outside occupying yourself with drink, talk, and friends.

I pulled my pants back up, fastened them, and freshened myself to go back and rejoin you and Jerry and the other bar patrons who would have only to look at me and know what had just happened. I could only hope no one would look too closely and notice. Just as I was reaching for the doorknob, there was a knock at the door. I opened the door, and there you stood. You made your way into the small space with me and closed and locked the door behind you. I looked at you in bewilderment. You looked into my eyes and said, “Turn around and take down your pants”. I was sure I misunderstood you. You repeated it, this time with a tone that left no doubt in my mind what you said, or that you meant it. As if hypnotized, I did as you instructed. I bent forward and rested my hands against the sink and waited for what would happen next. I felt your hands pull the lips of my pussy apart and your glorious cock push its way in. With one stroke, you pushed into me to the hilt. I felt your balls against my ass. You stayed like that for a moment, pushing with nowhere further for your cock to go. There was no more space at the tip of my pussy. I was filled to the max by you. You started to pull out and push back in…slowly, in and out, feeling better every time. Slow, methodical, movements. Every stroke in, pushed more of my cum out. You were behind me, fucking me, making me want to cry and scream and laugh! Your pumping was relentless. Steady, and purposeful. You were in full control. I could only surrender all I had. Then you started to pump faster and harder. Your hands moved from my hips around my waist. You bent into me now. You pumped me from behind with a fervor that was no longer under your control. Your cock was ready, your balls were heavy, hard, …you needed release. Your breath came fast, your mouth was next to my ear. You pushed your last stroke…deep into me. It almost hurt as your cock pressed against the very tip of my pussy. You grabbed me tightly and pulled me to you and groaned as your cum shot into me. My knees shook. I cried softly and quietly. I could not help myself. There was magic, there was chemistry and passion and pleasure. You released me, and softly kissed my cheek.

We cleaned ourselves up and left the restroom…you first, me a minute later. We returned to the table. You played your air guitar…I watched you and smiled. Just a smile…not a grin. We talked, you, Jerry, and I. It was better than it had been before. I felt you…and I could take that with me and remember it…not dwell on it. And I could look at you as a man…a man who gives me magic, but that I could be ok without until the next time. And I could be better for you…and you for me. What we shared in the bathroom was like nothing I would share with anyone else. It was magic…but it was not all there had to be. I could set it aside, until the next time and be fine. I had grown up, Thrill.

Thanks for the dream…and the push to mature.