I remember exactly the night it started. The Pats had won a close game on Monday Night Football. We watched it in bed, and when she woke me up the first thing I saw was the bowl of popcorn on the dresser.
Funny the mileposts in your life.
It was not really night but in that blue light between night and day when you can just begin to make out objects in the room while your brain is trying to drag you back into sleep.
She woke me up, but she was not awake.
What woke me was her gasp. It sounded like something had surprised her. I considered waking her out of it in case she was in distress, but I was still groggy and not thinking clearly.
Before I could shake her, she started to cum.
Chris often makes strange orgasm sounds. Think of a baby's first belly laughs and a dog wheezing and a fat man's satisfied chortling at a dirty joke. Overlay those tracks, run them at the same time and that is an approximation of her climactic utterings.
It is a lot more arousing to hear than to describe.
She shook like fever chills for several minutes as the orgasm ran up and down her body. I wriggled closer and wrapped my arms around her and appreciated the moment.
She opened her eyes.
"Hi," she said softly. Her eyes were unfocussed, her mind was still off its mount from the sensations thrilling her cunt.
"Good morning. What brought that on?"
She closed her eyes, taking stock of her internals, and shrugged.
"I wish I had been in the dream with you," I whispered.
She gave me a flickering look. Confusion? Doubt? Guilt?
Who feels guilt over a fucking dream?
She smiled. "You're here now."
"So you...?"
"That's right," she said, kissing me. "Basement status: Flooded."
I slid my hand down into her panties. She was right. Everything was wet. Not damp. Wringing outable wet. Her panties, her bush, the crack of her ass, the sheets under that crack.
Her labia were puffy and hot.
Life is too short to pass up a beautiful woman's pussy, especially when it has already been warmed up and lubricated for you. The problem was that she had gone on before me, and even my male always-ready-to-fertilize-the-female equipment needed a little time to catch up.
I kicked off my boxers and stripped her. By that time, my cock had made a heroic finishing kick and caught her at the tape.
I put the head of my prick at her entrance and it slid in. It got sucked in like paper money into an automated cashier machine.
We looked each other in the eyes. I was deep inside her. All ready to cum already.
I kegeled to hold back, then thought fuck that. She had cum in her sleep. Hard and long. I did not have to make sure she got equal treatment this time, so I started ining and outing.
She felt fantastic. Hot and slippery and tight.
She moaned in appreciation. I moaned in desperation. I thrust in, held my sounding, and jetted.
No apologies needed.
**********
It happened the next morning. An exact repeat, except this time when she opened her eyes I saw a different look I could not define.
Didn't occur to me to care. She was streaming juice and ready.
**********
The next morning we woke up as had once been normal. The alarm rang gently at 6:30.
"Any good dreams?" I asked with a kiss.
She looked away from me for an instant, then back.
"Just of you," she whispered.
**********
Twice the next week. Three times the week after.
**********
"His name is Justin," she said one night.
That was a redundant non sequitur if ever one existed.
"The man in your dream." I said.
She raised up on one elbow to look at me more closely. We were both naked and sweaty from making love.
"Yes."
Her breasts hung pendulously, wonderfully, timelessly. I gently pinched a nipple.
"You want be more specific? About... it?"
I did not say 'him'. There was no 'him'. It was only a fucking dream.
She lay back and told me all.
The dream takes place in a vaguely familiar location. A front room, certainly, with a door to the outside. There is a knock. Sometimes the doorbell rings. One time a dog barks. We do not own a dog.
She goes to the door and opens it to see a hooded figure. Black hoodie, she can't see the face.
Then the hood is thrown back and he is in the room with her. She is not afraid. He is familiar.
She claims she has no memory of this guy. Outside the dream.
There is no conversation, no foreplay. She says she knows why he is here and she is certain he knows why he is here. He comes to her and somewhere in crossing the room his clothes just disappear. She can't remember if she is naked in the dream all along, but by the time he is nude she is too.
"He was like this," she says, making a pretty large cylinder in the air with two hands. "Hard."
I want to say that now I know why she keeps having that dream. I am just smart enough not to.
But she twigs me and rolls her eyes.
"Men." She says with some pity. "It's fantasy. Flip me the bird."
I have no idea where she is going with this but I obey.
"See the size of your finger? That's about the internal volume of my vagina. And I'm average. When I get horny, it expands. It can be stretched. But nowhere near--" She forms the dream cock in the air again. "It just wouldn't fit. Except in a dream."
But in the dream she is lubricated and expanded and ready. He puts the tip of his massive cock against her labia and her orgasm swerves to make the onramp.
"It's the anticipation," she says. "Even though he just came in the door, the dream is in dream time. You know, in dream time I could have been stimulated for hours."
Whatever the chronology, he leans in and pushes. Oh my god, she says, it is the most glorious feeling. My hole is being forcefully distended beyond anything I have ever felt. I start to come, just the leading edge of the storm. My pussy throbs, burning.
Then he starts to pump. In and out and in and out and after a long fuck or maybe a short fuck, it being all dream time, he begins to grunt. His cock swells in her, impossibly fat.
So goddamn full.
She feels the splashing inside her.
Her orgasm goes pedal to the floor. She is deep into it in no time, her odd chorus of satisfaction loud.
That is when she will wake up and see me. She is still coming.
In the final act of this play, we fuck violently, happily, lovingly in the violet light of dawn.
The end.
