The day had been one of those that you always dread. It seemed like I was speaking Chinese to everyone I met. Nothing made sense and I had to explain myself too many times. I needed a break from everyone, so I headed to Garcias for a few beers, bad Mexican food and the anonymity that makes it my sanctuary.
I drank too many Coronas and when I fell into my bed, I barely saw the ceiling spinning off before I fell asleep or passed out.
I rolled restlessly and woke up in the middle of the night, sweating in my clothes. I sat up and undressed and lay back down. The frijoles were working on me as my swollen head pounded from too much beer and too little restraint. I drifted back to sleep, seeking relief from my self-induced torment.
I woke exhausted and when I rolled onto my side, was surprised to feel a sticky wet spot under me. I scooted over and shot out of bed. I couldn't have been so drunk I pissed my bed. At least I hoped not. Quick flashes of my future wearing Depends flew through my mind as I fought to stay calm.
Then I realized it was not piss but cum that had spread out on my sheet. It had been years since I had a wet dream and I was surprised to find that it could still happen. As I grew older and had sex regularly, that reflex had laid dormant. I was puzzled until bits of the night started creeping into my consciousness.
I sat at the edge of the bed as I started to remember the dream that was so strong and vivid that it took my body over.
I vaguely remember the feeling of my cock slamming violently into a tight, hot pussy. I could hear the moans and groans and guttural cursing of my partner, driving me on and challenging me to "tear her pussy open". I smiled as more of the dream flowed from my subconscious and I remembered, pulling her nipples as I drove my cock ever harder into her.
Her large soft breasts filled my hands as I roughly felt them. Her nipples begged for my thumbs to flick across them.
It was all coming back to me and my cock stiffened at the recollections.
I struggled to fill in the details of this fantasy, and as I did, more images flew across my mind. Images of her crawling in bed with me. Images of her kissing my chest and then my mouth. Images and feelings of her wet mouth sucking my cock hungrily inside. Images of her rubbing her tits over my face, taunting me. Images of her holding her tits around my cock as she jacked it with her globular flesh.
And as these pleasant memories of a fabricated and imaginary encounter washed through my mind, more troubling ones also appeared. I remembered in my dream seeing her hanging in her room, then men removing her and I shuddered, wondering how such an unerotic scene could have been spliced in my fantasy dream.
As I thought about that, I tried to reconstruct the order of the dream to better understand how I could move from such a pleasant moment to such a horrific one. It made no sense, and I finally gave up and wrote it off to too much beer and bad food. Hallucinations were not new to me. Usually they involved colors and naked young girls, although once, in 1972 after dropping acid, I saw spiders in my walls for 200 hours.
I went to the shower to shake that bad feeling left by the dream. As the water sprayed down on me, I tried to focus on the sexual part of last night's nocturnal emissions. My hand pulled my cock and soon I was into the ritual again. That familiar sensation blocked out the bad stuff and replaced it with imaginary screams of pleasure from the lady I was fucking in the shower. I was insatiable, and she begged me to stop before she was ruined forever by my monster cock. I was generous to her and when I shot my spurts of cum against the tiled walls, I let her fade from my mind and return to her room in my mind until I needed her again.
