Dreamboat Ch 05

Usual standard declarations about age, ownership etc. apply here.

Welcome back once again to the small, floating world that our heroes occupy at the moment. My apologies to those who discovered that the previous chapter had no sex within it, with the only explanation I can give being that when the chapter ends, it ends, and there is very little I can do about it. As I said before, my characters tend to run off and do exactly what they want, surprising the hell out of me most of the time. She has an STD? How did that ever come to be part of this story? And yet it is. I'm gobsmacked. Uh... astonished.

This chapter is longer -- and, in happy contrast, comprises a lot of sex. But it also has some important reveals in it as well. Our heroes' lives have been tougher and even weirder than I thought.

So, sit back, close your eyes, and listen as I tell you a story...

CHAPTER FIVE

Lachlan Reid was dreaming, and yet somehow -- even within his sleep -- he knew it was a dream. The knowledge made him feel oddly incorporeal; which was probably a good thing, as he was deep under water.

Far above him he could see the faint swells of the surface surge past, but here in the dim, dark depths they made no impression on his physical form. Neither did the need for oxygen apparently, as he felt no raging urge to breathe.

He could hear the faint sound of children singing a song he couldn't understand, and felt panic starting to rise. He looked around wildly for a way to escape, but found he couldn't rise towards the surface, no matter what he did. All about him there was only emptiness which vanished into the murky haze.

Except... Except for a rising glow in front of him, coming steadily nearer as he stared at it.

Lachlan laughed with delighted relief as a mermaid swam into view and reared back on her finned tail to look at him. Her long, light-blond hair swirled fan-like around her head as she smiled at his pleasure. Her upper half was naked, a small neat navel showing that she was mammalian at birth -- and mammalian in adulthood as well, if her small, perky breasts were anything to go by.

He glanced down at those glorious hillocks for a moment to admire the pink and coral coloured areolae and nipples, but was drawn back to her face, finding a strange familiarity there. A tune popped into his head, and he laughed again as he realised it was "Under the Sea" from The Little Mermaid movie. She didn't look like Ariel though. This mermaid had seen pain and suffering. He could see it in that beautifully tragic countenance.

She smiled at him again, darting all the way around him in a swirl of water. Thrashing his arms, Lachlan tried to spin fast enough to keep her in sight.

Then she was back in front of him, lower now -- her head level with his hips -- and he realised suddenly that he was naked and his cock was as hard as it had ever been, just from her being there. His thoughts became lost in the consideration of how one would go about fucking a mermaid. He wanted to -- oh how he wanted to fuck this gorgeous creature - but he had no idea of where to start or how they might fit together.

Then she bobbed forward slightly and all thoughts of the mechanics of fucking a fish woman disappeared as she placed her hot -- oh so hot -- mouth over the head of his erection and slowly slipped it deeper and deeper between her lips. He could feel her tongue wriggling against the sensitive part of him at the base of the helmet, and groaned at the ecstasy that swarmed through him. He could feel pleasure pulsing within him, even his fingertips feeling as if they were strobe lights.

Deeper and deeper she drew him in, and for a pale-hearted moment he wondered if the diet of mermaids included human men; not for sex, but nourishment. But then her lips reached the base of his shaft. She had no need to breathe, and his cock surged in response as her throat kneaded the length of it. Then her tongue flickered out to delight his balls in turn, laving his sack and stroking each swollen nut.

Lachlan gave a shout of surprised pleasure, and as he did so his body began to rise up through the waters, his mermaid remaining with him as he rose faster and faster towards the foaming surface. And the nearer he got to the surface, the nearer he came to cumming.

He screamed and his orgasm smashed through him as he broke the surface and his eyes flickered open.

A naked Wren was leaning forward on her knees between his legs, her breasts swinging rhythmically back and forth, perfectly in sync with the bobbing of her head. Her lips were stretched wide apart as she worked hard to swallow the cum that surged again and again over her tongue. And her eyes -- very blue in the morning light -- were wide with delight as they watched his reactions to her ministrations.

He groaned long and low with the pleasure of it all as she slowed her suckling, making sure that every trace of his cum was licked up. Finally, as she let his cock slide out of her mouth and gave it a final kiss on the tip, his hands released the death grip on the sheet and his panting -- and his heart rate -- began to slow.

Wren gave a soft giggle and bounced up the bed to lie alongside him, snuggling in tight. He took her in his arms and kissed her hard.

"I dreamed you were a mermaid," he whispered. "At least I think it was you. Hard to tell, what with the fishtail and everything. And then my cock was being sucked and..."

"Did your mermaid do as good a job as I did," she asked mischievously.

"God no!" He stated emphatically. "I have never had oral sex this good with anyone else, ever!"

"Good answer," she said, her smile broadening. "And are you an expert in blow jobs?"

He snorted ruefully. "No. I've had very few, actually. I wasn't very popular at school or at college either -- I was always too concentrated on hitting the books. So I didn't have much experience there. And then I joined the army as an officer and after the academy and training I was posted to the Middle East. It was against regs to be intimate with lower ranks, and what few female officers were there, were either married or unreachable through the swarms of men around them. So believe me, there wasn't much opportunity there for any type of sex unless you went with the local whores, and I was too worried about catching something lethal to do that.

"Then when I was posted back home and promoted to captain, I met Alison, the girl who would become my wife and she wasn't into oral very much. Well, I say that, but what I actually mean is that she enjoyed receiving it, but wasn't keen on the giving part."

Wren looked shocked. "What a bitch! That's not fair!"

"I guess," he said with a frown. "She

was

pretty selfish in bed, but by the time I found that out, we were married and there was nothing much I could do about it."

"You should have dumped her ass!" she stated firmly.

"I think I did," he said quietly. "Eventually. After my fourth posting."

"You think?" she asked, propping herself up on her elbow to look into his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling, lost in memory. "You're not sure?"

"I was pretty fucked up at that time," he said. "You've seen my scars. There was... it was... let's call it an IED. It took out most of my men. Myself and two others were medevaced back to base and then onto Germany, where they patched us up over a few months, and then we were sent back home and dumped out of the military with a medical discharge. I ended up in a civilian hospital. It was either that or the VA. I was lucky enough to have money."

"How long were you in hospital?" she asked.

"Almost three months."

"Oh wow!"

"When I got out I was still in a lot of pain, and things were weird at home. Nothing I could put my finger on, just weird..."

"She was stepping out on you?" Wren asked.

"I don't know. According to friends I had who lived nearby, Alison was true-blue and stay-at-home. It could have been my imagination, or the PTSD. I was drinking a lot to try and dull the pain. And then I left after..."

"After what?" Wren said.

"Shit, this is so hard to admit," he muttered. "I hate even thinking about it, and I've never spoken about it to anyone before. I don't even know why I'm telling you now, except I feel I can trust you."

He touched her chest.

"You have a good heart."

The hug she gave him almost left him breathless. When she released him enough to breath, he swung his arm up to cover his eyes, feeling the need to hide his shame and pain.

"Apparently I was drinking not-stop and then one day I binged on drugs as well. When I came to my senses, my wife had been beaten up, and I had done it."

He raised his arm and looked at her, waiting for the revulsion to appear in her eyes.

"I don't believe it," she said flatly.

"It's true."

Wren shook her head. "No. I know people that take drugs and get smashed and lose their shit. And that isn't you. You're not one of them. What drugs did you take?"

"I don't know, I don't remember any of it."

"So where did you get them, were they prescription?"

"No," he pondered, reluctantly forcing himself to remember that time. "I really don't think so. The prescription meds that I was taking then always made me drowsy, or even put me to sleep. Every time. So I don't think I OD'd on them."

"Well, what did the police report say? The blood tests will have shown what you took."

"Alison didn't report it to the police. She said that she understood the strain I was under, and as long as I left the house immediately and promised to never contact her again, she wouldn't press charges. She didn't feel it was right to punish me for something that wasn't really my fault, but couldn't live with me anymore."

"So she threw you out, and there were no blood tests to prove anything one way or the other. That was convenient."

"You have a suspicious mind," he remarked.

"I don't worry whether I'm paranoid," she replied. "I worry whether I am paranoid enough."

He smiled at that, it was a clever turn of phrase, but she was already picking at the subject once more.

"How about drinking? Does that make you go crazy?"

"My friends say... well, they used to say that when I get drunk I babble on, talking non-stop, and then fall over and go to sleep."

"So you would have had to have bought drugs from someone -- something that would react with the alcohol in a way that would turn you into a violent asshole. Who did you know that dealt hard shit?"

He thought for a while. "I honestly didn't know anyone that was selling anything harder than weed, and I never use that -- I can't bear the taste. We were living in a fairly conservative area of a small town, and I didn't have a car as Alison was using that for work, so I would have had to have gone by bus or taxi to somewhere. But I have no idea where I could have even started to look."

"So," she summed up. "If you took too many prescription drugs you would have fallen asleep. And you were falling down drunk, so drunk you can't remember anything, yet somehow managed to remain awake and even travel to another district or town and get hold of some coke, crack or PCP from a stranger you somehow managed to hook up with. I'm sorry, but I don't believe it."

He stared at her. "Why are you so convinced that I couldn't have done what they say I did? I saw her when I came round. I was trained to kill, and she was bruised and battered. She had two black eyes and I think her arm was broken. I've carried that image with me for four years."

"Because I know you," she stated. "And I've known men who beat up women. And the two just don't match up!"

"But we don't even really know each other. We haven't spoken much at all. How can you know me?"

She sighed. "Knowing someone is not about what they say, it's about what they do. I've watched you ever since I ended up on the streets. I've seen you at your very worst, at your absolute lowest ebb. I've seen you ragged and starving, completely humiliated and tormented by passersby, a soldier trained to kill absolutely raging inside at the whole world. And even then, although you kept to yourself, you were kind and thoughtful and you did right with people, even people you didn't know. Whether it's a helping hand or just saying the right thing at the right time, you have a good soul. People like you and trust you, even those on the street who have learned that it's safer to trust nobody. That's why I ran to you that night. I think I instinctively knew you were the person to turn to. And you didn't let me down. I doubt you've ever let anyone down.

"And another thing! Drugs don't turn you into a monster; they just bring out any monster already lurking inside. Believe me, I may be young, but I know monsters -- real slavering bloody nightmares dressed in human skin. And you are not a monster, even in your darkest depths."

She was almost panting after her impassioned speech. He, on the other hand, was speechless at her fervour.

"Try and remember!" she continued after a moment. "Who told you what you had done? And what was happening when you saw her? What were the details? Try and remember anything, any little thing and then try and connect that to something else. It doesn't matter if you

were

drunk or drugged to the eyebrows, your brain still remembers, even if you can't connect to that memory.

"Because if you are not the monster, then who beat up your wife? And why did she, or whoever

they

are, put it on you? What was to gain? You said you had money..."

There was a long silence as they thought about what she had said.

Reid's thoughts whirled and jumped, old memories surfacing like months-old corpses rising to the surface of a lake before sinking again, bloated and rotting, to be replaced by others. His mind skittered away from the issues she had raised for its own protection.

"You watched me?" he said,

She laughed and slapped his arm, "That's what you got from all that? You are a wonderful man, my captain. But you can be a complete dumb-ass!"

Still laughing to herself, she bounced off the bed and made her way into the tiny bathroom, from where he heard the shower start up. He smiled in turn as he heard her voice rise in song, and went to the coffee machine. He had loaded grounds into the machine and was sorting out cups while it hissed happily to itself, when she appeared again, rubbing her hair with a towel.

Reid stared at her. She was bending forward next to the bed and, apart from her head being covered with the towel, was completely naked and looking both sweetly vulnerable and oh-so-inviting at the same time. He realised suddenly that this was the first time he had really had the chance to look properly at her body, and that realisation was accompanied by the thought that it was absolutely spectacular.

Wren's arms were slightly more tanned than the rest of her body, in the same way that Reid's were. On the street you rarely had the opportunity to leave off any clothes and expect them to still be where you left them. So you wore everything you had and you kept it on no matter whether it was sunny or snow. Charitably donated tee shirts meant you sometimes had the chance to get some sun on your arms, but that was about it. He guessed that she had picked up the coat and shawl later in her street-time with those tanned arms, because he had never seen her without them except for that one time at her place.

She was slim to the point of being skinny, but muscle was evident beneath the silky smooth skin, her biceps and shoulders rounding more than pleasantly as she worked the towel over her hair. His eyes dropped to her breasts, his breath catching as he watched them wobble and jitter at her quick movements. He knew from experience that they fitted perfectly into his big hands with very little overflow to go to waste. Subconsciously, his fingers twitched at the thought.

Her stomach was tight and firm, punctuated neatly by the little dimple of her belly button, and leading his gaze inevitably down to the little fuzzy blond triangle and the neat pink lips that could be clearly seen below. Despite his recent orgasm, Reid felt his body respond once again, his cock hardening steadily. At that moment, Wren straightened up and brought the towel down from her head, to see his rapidly growing cock straining towards her.

Lachlan belatedly swung an arm in front of his groin as she grinned at him.

"Is all that just for me?" she asked, moving towards him. "Because I found something in the bathroom that can work for both of us."

He looked puzzled as she opened her hand to reveal a small tube.

"Lube!" she crowed. "We've got lube! Now you can fuck my ass!"

She did a little dance around the bed, gleefully singing a little 'now we've got lube, yeah!' ditty. Then she threw herself on the bed on her side, raised herself up on one elbow and crooked her knee forward over the lower one. In that classic pin-up position, she blew him a kiss and crooked her finger at him.

"Come on, my Captain," she whispered huskily. "Come and get some. I'm all yours."

Reid tried to speak through a voice box that had gone completely dry, swallowed and tried again -- unsuccessfully. He gave up and climbed on the bed next to her. She immediately laid claim to his cock, holding it and stroking it full length, drawing pre-cum from the tip and spreading it over the shaft.

He was in the strange position of being offered a secret fantasy of his -- a fantasy he had never before fulfilled -- and yet being strangely reluctant to do so. He realised that more than anything, he didn't want to hurt her, and he was pretty sure that anal sex was likely to be pretty painful, even if it gave pleasure as well.

"Wren," he said quietly. "You don't have to do this. Not for me. You don't owe me anything. Certainly not that."

"You don't want my ass?" she asked, her blue eyes huge with surprise. In her experience all men sooner or later wanted it that way.

"I do," he said. "But I don't want my pleasure to cause you any pain. I don't roll that way."

She kissed him, her lips warm and soft, and her tongue playfully darting into his mouth to explore and then slip away again to draw his tongue into hers. Her hand never stopped moving over his shaft, which had become even harder than it had been during her good morning blow job. His arms slipped around her, drawing her tight against him, causing her breasts to flatten against his chest, her diamond-hard nipples pressing into his skin.

Wren could feel his need, his body tensed in a different way than it had been when she had woken him with her mouth. And she wanted him in the same way -- with an urgency that made her want to cry that she couldn't allow him to take her as she wanted. She wanted, needed him inside her, and if her cunt was off-limits then her ass would have to do. It wouldn't be the first time a man had plundered between her buttocks, but it would still be a first for her. It would be the first time she had ever invited a man to do so, a gift she was more than happy to give, rather than have it just be taken. She had never been allowed to withhold it, so it had never been something she

could

give before this moment.

And now he didn't want to take that present, all gift-wrapped and waiting for him, because he didn't want to hurt her. If he only knew...

She almost told him then, but lost her courage at the last moment.

Her face showed none of the struggle that was going on within her. She had watched Lachlan Reid on the streets for almost two years, watching him deal with the wreckage of his life with an equanimity and level of dignity that was hard to credit in any homeless person. It was as if he had decided that outcast status was what he deserved, and then accepted it and simply got on with his life.