Joe's Dream

Joe had been asleep for a little over an hour when he first felt her. It had started as a great dream, with some anonymous woman giving him the blowjob of his life. He was so close to climaxing when he woke up he was sure she was there in bed with him. But his apartment was empty, the usual creaks and groans of the old building surrounded him.

He reached down to take matters into his own hand and found that he couldn’t. He could feel a mouth still clamped on him, sucking hard. His heart started to pound out of his chest and he decided it must still be a dream. But his cock was sure it was reality. Both of his hands went to his face, to clear the sleep from his eyes while the warm wet mouth continued working on him. He lifted his head trying to look down but he could see nothing.

His cock was hard and lifted away from his stomach. He could feel her tongue doing circles over the slit in the head, lapping at him. He pushed up with his hips; testing and felt himself sink into the back of her throat. A long moan left him when lips pushed back down all the way to his stomach. He could feel the invisible throat clutching him, pulling around him. Somewhere in his mind he grasped at the idea that he was still asleep but dreaming he was awake. He felt the blood pooling and throbbing, waiting for his release. The harder he throbbed the more she took of him, sucking him deep. She switched to long firm strokes and he let the rush fill him, exploding into her mouth. His legs felt like rubber after he came and he vaguely remembered rolling over and falling back asleep.

Joe went to work the next day with smile on his face. It had been one hell of a dream that was for sure. He wished the faceless woman had made it last longer but he’d always been quick out of the gate, or so his ex-wife had said. Tuesday night was his night to bowl with the usual bunch of cronies he had hung out with since high school. Most of Joe’s friends were hard working blue-collar guys with mortgages they struggled to pay and wives who were constantly nagging them about their beer drinking ways.

Joe prided himself in the fact that he didn’t keep a woman around since his brief marriage. ‘Fuck ‘em and leave ‘em was his current policy. He bragged about it regularly to the boys. He didn’t elaborate on the fact that there were fewer and fewer women willing to hop in the sack with him in the last few years. His glory days in high school and junior college kept him believing he was still as good a lover as any man. She made her next appearance two nights later. She woke him and rode him like there was no tomorrow. She was demanding and aggressive, pulling him into her and jerking him out of a sound sleep to shove his cock inside her. It was more of reality this time and Joe knew he wasn’t dreaming. He could feel her closing around him, wet and tight, just the way he liked it. He pushed up to meet her and felt her slam back down on him. This time he could see the slight imprint of her thighs against his legs. His heart started the tap dance in his chest again. He was afraid. Afraid to miss the fuck of a life time and afraid of what it was that had him clamped between her thighs. She slid up and down on him furiously. He could see himself glistening wet with her juices and his own pre-cum. He was hard and pushing straight up away from his belly. He wondered if the building were haunted in the back of his mind. The thought scattered when she shifted her hips and started to make small circles while she road him. Joe dug his hands into the sheets and held on. He was afraid to touch this invisible being but more afraid of losing a great orgasm. When he began to groan and push up, matching her pace she squeezed him tighter inside her invisible cunt. He felt himself erupting in waves into her. He watched his own cum shoot up and then back down the non-existent woman. The orgasm was real enough. He could feel her. He didn’t know who or what she was, but she was there.

The next day he felt a little bleary eyed from the late night action but satisfied and smug. So what if she weren’t a real woman. She was better in bed than most of the women he’d had over the last few years. She didn’t talk and she gave him what she wanted. She didn’t demand oral sex but she gave great head herself. He hoped she came back. He wanted more of it and as soon as possible.

It was like he’d wished her back into his messy apartment; the rumpled sheets on the bed hadn’t been changed in weeks. Joe liked the slightly soiled smell of sex that clung to them. The next night she appeared again, this time with both hands wrapped around him and his balls in her mouth. He tongue was making circles around him, sucking on him and stroking him hard at the same time. Joe smiled to himself and rocked into her hands. He opened one eye to look down, knowing he’d see nothing once again. But tonight he could see a faint impression in the sheet. It was as if the more he filled her with cum, the more substantive she became. He could tell from the impression that she was a small woman, he ass nicely rounded but not too big. Tentatively he reached one hand down the sheet to where the impression lay, rocking against him. He couldn’t grasp smooth skin but the sheets were warm. She warned him off by taking one of his balls in her teeth and scraping gently against him. He winced and moved his hand. The sucking and swirling continued. Joe closed his eyes and let her bring him to a mind-blowing orgasm. He expected to once again find himself alone. But this time she didn’t disappear like a wraith. Instead she slowly licked the semen from his thighs and belly, sucking his skin into her mouth all the way to his chest where he had splattered. He groaned wishing himself hard again. She might be in control but he wanted to fuck her his way this time, with her on her knees and him behind plowing his way into her. The woman continued her trek, lapping against his skin and biting his nipples until he sucked in his breath sharply. This time the bodiless woman leaned full against him, her weight on him and he felt warm lips on his mouth, her tongue thrusting against his teeth. He felt the blood pool back into his groin. She was making him hard again. He wasn’t sure where the energy was coming from, whether he was feeding her or she was attempting to suck the life out of him.

Over the course of the next weeks it continued. Sometimes he pumped himself into her three times a night. He began to lose weight. Dark circles appeared under his eyes. But he was happier than he’d ever been. If there was a perfect union for Joe, this had to be it.

Then things took a turn he wasn’t sure he liked. By the end of the third week he thought he could see her. It was dark in the room as usual when she came to him. But her shadow appeared in the doorway this time. She was small just like the outline of her body against the sheets. He had always had a hard on for petite women. When the streetlight hit her as she came across the room he caught the scent of light flowery perfume and saw a faint glow of red in her hair. It was like his fantasies had come to life. He loved redheads. He welcomed her back into his bed with open arms and groaned when she wrapped her hands around him and began to stroke. But this time she turned around to push him into a 69. He’d never liked the taste of a woman but he found himself a little afraid to argue with the ghost. After all, she did have his cock in her mouth. He made a halfhearted attempt to slide his tongue against her but wasn’t even sure where she wanted him to put it. She pushed down against his face, forcing his mouth into her clit. He felt himself choking as she began to rub hard, riding his face. If she hadn’t been sucking him into oblivion at the time he would have thrown her bodily off of him. But her mouth clamped down harder and she pressed against him, thighs locked down tight. Joe took a deep breath and held on until his face was covered in her fluid and he felt like he couldn’t breath. When she finally rolled away from him he gasped air back into his chest. She no longer felt invisible or even shadowy. The body lying next to his was as warm and alive as any woman he’d ever slept with. He turned and looked into yellow eyes. He thought she reminded him of a cat. He wondered before he fell asleep how many lives she had left.

Joe noticed changes in his apartment the next day. His nicely soiled sheets had been washed. The dirty dishes in the sink had disappeared. He laughed to himself and thought’typical chick stuff’. This was great! He had a maid and a nymphomaniac in one package. What more could a guy want! That was until he cut the hell out of his face. She’d shaved her legs with his razor.

After two more nights of great sex he realized the furniture had been dusted and the kitchen floor mopped. He also noticed that not only could he feel her beside him in the bed, he could feel her weight pressing down into him. Her thighs didn’t seem so smooth. She felt more like his ex-wife had. A little bit less perfect, but only by inches. He shook the thought away when she raked her nails down his belly. He must be imagining things

The next week she sorted his sock drawer. She also showed up in his bed before the sun was completely down. Still ready and waiting for him. She gave him another phenomenal blowjob but refused to let him sleep. She made him climax five times before he was so raw he tried to force her mouth away from him. She curled up behind him pressed again him like a matching spoon. He could feel her skin, sticky with sweat against his. It wasn’t a particularly good feeling.

Six weeks went by and his apartment was becoming like a stranger’s home. Clean and sparkling, it made him uneasy. He liked his own stuff even if it wasn’t clean. Her demand for sex had increased but Joe found his own desire on the downside. She had to manipulate him longer with her mouth to get him hard. He’d found nail marks on his cock where she’d clutched at him. For the first time in years he wasn’t interested in sex. He wondered if she was making him sick.

He’d gotten used to her putting in her appearance earlier and earlier. After a night of bowling and few beers with the boys he’d walked in to find her curled up on the couch like a small round cat. She’d crossed the room before he’d even set down his bowling bag and wrapped her legs around him. Normally it would have been acting out another fantasy for him to fuck her against the wall like that. But this time it was almost a chore. She was heavier than he remembered. Or was he getting weaker. He wasn’t sure. She felt good against him but she felt more and more like a real woman. Her skin didn’t smell flowery tonight. It smelled a lot like the stuff she was using to mop the floor.

After eight weeks he got used to coming home and finding everything in place. Now she was cooking for him. When she crawled into bed with him and locked her legs around him he groaned and tried to roll away. She pulled him back and climbed on top of him. He gave in running his hands down her legs. She was wearing his socks.

While she stroked him, riding up and down he could hear her panting. He’d never been able to hear her before. She was wet, making a squishing noise while she slid up and down. He pushed up automatically and thought how familiar it sounded. Just like regular boring sex with his ex-wife.

She looked down at him while she rode him and smiled. Her eyes were still yellow.