The Dream

Author's note: This story, although it may function serviceably as a standalone, will be much better if you have the time to read the first chapter beforehand. Either way, I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks to all those who gave their support with Chapter 1.

*****

I was awoken by a sunbeam burning its way like a laser through a crack in the curtains as it sliced through the dark room to make direct contact with my eyes. I groaned irritably and flopped myself over. Much to my surprise in my transition, I felt the smooth warm skin of a body lying next to me.

All early-morning angst at being awoken prematurely dissipated as the events of the previous night washed over me. Her beautiful, wavy strawberry blond hair was spread like a rippling pool of liquid copper across her pillow and around her head. A tuft of hair had strayed from the rest and lay across her mouth. It puffed out rhythmically, stirred by the steady breath of her deep sleep.

Reaching out a hand, I brushed the stray lock of hair aside while taking her beauty in. Her nose was smallish and cute. Her lips were full and maybe just a touch wide. She had a very light smattering of freckles dusting her nose and cheeks as though they'd formed from a delicate wisp of dust. Despite having spent the previous evening with her, it took until that moment to realize she had a strong resemblance to Emma Stone, right down to her throaty voice and laugh.

Sighing as a sense of euphoria washed over me, I rolled over and stared at the ceiling contemplating my exploits with Jodie the previous night. Less than 24 hours ago, I'd driven driving to Saskatoon hoping to assuage these foreign feelings of lust. In my ignorance, I'd assumed it was something a therapist could fix. Now, I couldn't be more relieved that the notion had basically been dismissed as impossible by my therapist, Dr. Lawrence. Had she catered to my ridiculous demands I wouldn't be lying in bed next to Jodie after one of the best nights of my young life.

Although, I wanted to let her sleep, I also wanted to roll over and kiss her lips in gratitude for all she'd given me. She made a low moan and I decided she wouldn't be asleep much longer anyway... so what could it hurt? With my face above hers I was careful not to let my long dark red hair brush her face and awaken her early; I wanted my lips to be the first thing she felt.

As I brushed her lips lightly with my own, she stirred beneath my touch. Her lips felt like satin against mine. In contrast my own felt sore and bruised against hers as a result of the intensity of our passion the night before most likely.

Impulsively, I pulled back fearful and hesitant for a variety of inconsequential reasons.

Should I have brushed my teeth? Do her lips hurt too? Oh God, I really should have brushed my teeth first. What if her regret of our activities matched my exuberance?

As luck would have it, any doubts coursing through my head were dissipated at once when she pulled me back down for more kisses.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked sleepily, reacting to my reticence.

"You'll find out." I replied feeling encouraged.

I refocused my attention to her neck and began kissing her there while I felt her fingers moving through my hair; pulling me to her. As her hands moved down my back, I progressed further to her gorgeous breasts. They were beautiful in the golden sunlight filtering through the curtains of my hotel room. They were full and soft, yet firm in a most delicious natural way. Her nipples were the size of a two-dollar coin and deep red in colour.

Probing out with my tongue, I lightly ran it around the areola; feeling it tighten across my touch and stiffen into a swollen bud. I moved to the next breast and did the same while she shivered with anticipation beneath me. Not without a small sense of regret for having had to part my attention away from her gorgeous chest, I moved south down her body. I could spend days playing with her wonderful tits but I was also impatient to taste her again.

I didn't want to think about it then but I was fearful I would never see her again- at least not like

this

. We both had boyfriends, well; she had a "stack of shit" (her words not mine), but I suspected it was more complicated than that. My boyfriend, Logan wasn't exclusive so I didn't have the guilt of betrayal to reconcile with but everything was up in the air now.

Could I really go back to him now and be happy with just him? Did this make me a lesbian?

To the former I felt I had the vestige of an answer. A lesbian no, but I was totally certain I was bisexual and as fun as that was; it came with more than its fair share of confusion and ambiguity.

Dismissing my thoughts, I felt my way down her supple smooth, delectable skin with my mouth and tongue towards the final-destination of her grinding hips and the sweet liqueur of her desire. I buried my head between her legs with abandon; lapping up the sweet, bitterness of her need. Once again, I felt astonished by how great she tasted and how right it all felt. I latched on to the already pulsing bud of her clit. I wanted to feel her cum right now and I wanted it in impossible ferocity and volume. I want to feel the drenching proof of her pleasure in my mouth and on my face.

She cried out as I went to task, sucking and tonguing her throbbing clit. Her hands tightened in my hair and pulled me to her pussy as her desire overwhelmed her. I felt the inexplicably delightful combination of pleasure and pain as she grasped my hair tightly and encouraged me to intensify my effort. Using two fingers delicately, I pushed them inside her; careful not to scratch her sensitive skin. Warm and slick, her pussy accommodated to my fingers with no issue and I thrust them in and out smoothly while using my tongue in a swirling pattern upon her clit.

I knew she was close when I felt the slick, heated walls of her interior clamp down on my fingers, halting their movement. Her screams of wanton desire were tearing their way through the silence of the early morning. Momentarily, I considered the possibility that we'd get an embarrassing call of complaint from the front desk if she didn't tone it down.

Oh, well, it wasn't not as though we hadn't already embarrassed ourselves quite thoroughly at the hotel last night.

A gush of her delicious cum flooded the lower of portion of my face and I licked up as much as I could with abandon. She shuddered with each lap of my tongue in the after effects of her explosive orgasm.

"How do you make me feel this way?" she moaned out. "I thought this was your first time?"

"I guess I just take what I like and apply it to you," I answered truthfully while moving up beside her.

"You must have had a rich and rewarding sex life up until this point because you are amazing. How old are you anyway?"

"Twenty-three, you?"

"Twenty-eight, you snagged yourself an older lady."

"Did I though? Snag you... I mean?" I said voicing my inner concerns that this was a one-off.

She answered slowly with a voice as rift with uncertainty as that I felt,

"Oh hon, I don't know. There is Greg..."

"The stack of shit?" I finished for her and she nodded so I continued,

"Are you two pretty serious?" I was trying my best not to let my feelings show through my question. Hell,

I wasn't even sure what my feelings were.

"On and off again. It's complicated, he's not reliable and drinks too much but I don't know... it just hard to quit him after so many years. We've been through a lot together and... I guess there's a goodness to him that I love or used to love..." she trailed off, her already thick voice husky with emotion.

"It's Ok," I comforted her, "We don't need to do this right now."

"Agreed, not when there's much better ways to spend our time." She said with a wry smile.

She gently pushed me onto my back by nudging my shoulder down to the mattress and firmly kissed me in a rapturous way that I'd come to recognize as her style. No wonder my lips were tender as though bruised. Regardless, it was achingly delectable as she bit and licked my lips intermittently between deep, passionate make-out sessions. I felt breathless under her spell.

Moving down my body, she paid the same attention to my breasts as I had done hers. She used her teeth to frame the bud of my hard nipples while sucking and licking. Waves of pleasure washed over me causing me to thrust up my hips and arch my back, propelling myself against her glorious body. I couldn't help but cry out as our slick, flushed skin met one another's in grinding furious passion.

When her mouth made it to the drenched lips of my pussy- my crotch was soaked and shoving itself upwards in a desperate search for reprieve. Testing the ground with her mouth first, she assessed my want correctly and dipped her two fingers smoothly inside me. I felt the satisfying fullness her fingers supplied but I wanted more. I put my hand in her hair and pressed her mouth against my clit while demanding,

"One more."

I groaned aloud as she inserted yet another finger and satisfyingly stretched my pussy wider. She sucked and licked my clit with a manner of controlled but greedy hunger. She moved her fingers in expert tandem with her mouth and tongue.

My skin felt as though it was tightening up around my muscles and bones and electricity shot through my taut flesh as my climax approached. I cried out as it gripped me in its power; shudders racked my body with raw pleasure so intense I could barely take its intensity. Bursts of light like little stars lit on the lids of my tightly-shut eyes, making me feel like my soul was trying to escape my body and join hers. I screamed my release out as I gripped her head unable to contain my ecstasy.

She pulled herself up on her elbows while licking her lips like a green-eyed cat. Those mesmerizing eyes that were as green as a newly-sprouted spring leaf lit on mine as she crawled up the bed and lay by my side. She stroked my hair softly as we began to talk again.

"You must have a full and rich sex life of your own..." I blatantly understated.

"A lady never tells." She replied.

"I'm not sure a

lady

would do what we just did."

"Further proof there is no better age to live in than now. In this modern day, you can eat a pussy and call yourself a lady afterwards. Who's going to stop me?" She quipped.

"Not me. The benefits your ladyship provides are too rewarding," I purred in her ear.

"I wonder if you will appreciate all the

rewards...

" Jodie replied matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean?" I asked, genuine in my ignorance.

"Um... perhaps you should go look in the mirror."

"This sounds alarming."

I got up completely naked and without any self-consciousness. Behind the door of the bathroom was a full-length mirror. I let out a squeal of dismay when I looked myself up and down. On my arms were scratches from our tumble into the bush amid our drunken debauchery last night. All down my back, I could see long scratches that her fingernails raked leaving linear evidence of her ecstasy down my back. If that wasn't bad enough, she had also left something that would be practically impossible to hide.

"Jodie! What the hell?" I exclaimed in amused alarm and mocking reproach. "You gave me hickies? What are you? Like 14? I look like a middle school student after 7 minutes in heaven."

Jodie had come up behind me as silent as a cat. She startled me when she spoke while assessing my situation from behind me in the mirror.

"Well... you could always take up the aviator look." She suggested while smiling broadly. Her smile spread and soon we were both laughing uncontrollably.

"Oh yeah..." I said sarcastically, "Scarf, goggles, leather cap, bomber jacket... the works. That'd be a real

neat

look and super inconspicuous."

"I hear ascots are coming back in style." She said laughing

"You've heard no such thing. You do know that you're not helpful at all, right? I asked between giggles while imagining myself trying to pull off an ascot. "Next you're going to suggest I join the navy."

"Oh, no, now that's just stupid," she replied with an expert's tone of gravity. "I'm pretty sure they don't even wear those outfits anymore."

"Oh yeah? Well I'd hate to be the only one dressed as an early 20

th

century aviator. In fact, I think you'd look quite fine doing your own Amelia Earhart impersonation." I advised while turning to face her with determined look of retribution on my face.

I chased her back to the bed where we rolled around giggling in a half-hearted wrestling match. I was intent on leaving my own marks on her delectable neck and was seated over her hips holding her hands above her head when we heard a knock at the door.

"Oh shit! What time is it?" I asked thinking it was probably housekeeping. A rattle on the door handle backed up my suspicion and I ran to the door just in time for it to pop open and crash against the chain lock.

"We're still in here; just forgot to put out the sign. We will be gone soon." I told them through the crack in the door.

"I'll be back in 30 minutes," the housekeeper replied in a tone that invited zero negotiation.

As I came back to bed Jodie said, "You know... you could always take up wearing some those super-hip Victorian-style dresses with the really high necklines."

I threw a stray pillow at her and jumped back on the bed. Might as well make good use of the time we had gained.

The next few days were spent in the type euphoria that can only be derived from fulfilling sex. I thought almost constantly of Jodie. Although I had gotten her number, I didn't feel comfortable texting her just yet and she seemed to be showing similar restraint because I hadn't heard from her either. It was impossible not to wonder if I was taking this all too seriously. She'd had probably moved on with her life, made up with Greg and omitted our tryst from all their discussion of that evening. I felt guilt inducing schadenfreude knowing she probably couldn't have sex with him right away- not until the evidence of our encounter healed on her body, at least.

For my part, I hadn't seen Logan since I got back, having successfully warded him off until the weekend, by which time, I hoped the evidence of our exploits had dissipated. I didn't feel like explaining this to him yet, mostly, because I had no idea how to broach it. What does one even say?

Hey Logan, you know how you like pussy? Well...

That Saturday we had a pseudo-date planned to go to a pit party in the badlands with a bunch of our mutual friends. By the time the weekend had come I still hadn't heard from Jodie but I comforted myself with the fact that I'd, at very least, see her next week at my appointment with her boss, Dr. Lawrence. The week had crept by at a snail's pace despite my good mood and on Saturday morning I awoke with a sense of subdued anticipation about the day's event.

Although I wouldn't characterize myself as a party girl; I

was

a girl that liked a good party. I relished the buzz a few beers would bring while socializing, engaging in some mild flirting and dancing to good music. Of one thing, I was certain (if nothing else), I knew wanted to look good for this party. I felt so sexy during this period of self-actualization and I wanted the world to witness it. I curled my long dark reddish hair into loose curls that framed my face and accentuated my big round hazel eyes. Putting on my typical minimalistic amount of make-up, I was smiling to myself, pleased with the results when the doorbell rang.

Logan was at the door; the sun was shining around his dark hair from the late afternoon sun and he was smiling broadly when I opened the door. He was wearing his mirrored aviators, masking his bright blue eyes, those same eyes that captivated me at our first introduction, a few months ago. He had this disarming way of smiling, dimples subtly appearing on both cheeks and a with genuine mirth that reached his eyes. I could only imagine how many girls had fallen to its spell. In the driveway, over his shoulder I saw his friend Jay's party van.

"Did someone call the party bus?" He said, smiling in his carefree manner.

He had on his standard summer attire of a sleeveless shirt (wife beater, if you must) and board shorts. Normally, not the kind of guy I'd go for; he won me over more with his sense of humour and easy-going nature than his substantial good looks. That being said, it didn't hurt that his shirt clung to the V shape of his broad shoulders down to a waistline that may someday sport a beer belly but presently was six-pack of a different variety. His tanned well-defined arms reminded me with a shot of lust to my senses that perhaps I was being a bit pretentious suggesting it was just his personality that kept me around.

"Fuck ya!" I said gearing up for a good time, "Is Jay waiting in the van?"

The uneasy part of me hoped he was, while the animalistic part of me wanted some alone time with this fine specimen of manhood before me. Logan must have been thinking the same as he stepped inside while wrapping an arm around my waist he brought me in close for a kiss. Even freshly shaved the whiskers on his face rubbed against my mouth reminding me, in its dichotomy, of Jodie's smooth lipped kisses. Regardless, my body responded to him immediately and I felt a bolt of desire shoot through me making me tingle in a primal way.

"He is but he can wait, this is waaay more important." Logan said against my lips.

"As tempting as it is to have a quickie while your friend awaits us... counting the minutes and calculating new and inventive ways to harass us, I think we should just go. Besides, I'm not sure Jay can count to twenty."

"Luckily, for him he won't need to go much higher than five," he joked self-deprecatingly.

I began to laugh but the sound of his phone ringing halted me. Taking it out of his pocket, he frowned when he saw who it was.

"Now, what the fuck do they want?" he exclaimed and I knew instantly that it was his work calling. My heart sank fearing he was getting called into work. Just when I was starting to feel like everything was going to be ok with him, despite my anxiety about our future.

He stepped outside to answer it and returned looking grim. I knew before he opened his mouth that he would not be coming to the pit party, after all.

"That was work. Apparently, some fucktard rig manager won't answer his phone and now I need to go to work in Manitoba. Shitty timing, I know but I should go if I want to eventually be pushing my own rig." He said with regret thick in his voice. "I'm so sorry."

"When do you have to go?" I asked, (thinking we might still have time for that quickie, after all).

He answered with bitter sarcasm permeating his tone, "Oh? You know how it is with them, a guy should have been on the road out east an hour ago to even make it in time." His tone softened as he continued saying, "You should go anyway... Jay's a good guy and a lot of your friends are coming, including someone you probably thought wouldn't make it." He finished mysteriously.

"Ok, I will but I'll miss you." I said with resolve to go and have a good time anyway. It really wasn't in my personality to worry about that which I couldn't change. "Um... who's coming?"

Neglecting to answer me, he gave me a deep, long kiss and was out the door in a hurry. In less than ten minutes, Jay was back and I grabbed my sixer of Pilsner and headed out to the van.

Jay was the kind of guy that is timeless, by which I mean, every generation of friends seems has a guy like him. Shorter than average, he was of stocky build and could easily be characterized as a stoner. He liked music. A lot. Almost as much as weed... well, almost.