The recurring dreams had started about five weeks earlier, and although far from unpleasant they were nonetheless somewhat disturbing.
I told myself that they were born out of frustration and more than a little envy of other wives. My husband Jeremiah -- Jerry for short - was loving, generous and attentive, except for one aspect. He had never been very demonstrative physically, and there was often quite some time between encounters. My own needs remained undiminished, and for the most part unsatisfied, with the result that I was filled with overwhelming gratitude after each of our brief, rarely more than once a month lovemaking encounters. It wasn't that he didn't like sex -- it just seemed to embarrass him.
He had been born into a strict puritanical sect, which preached that copulation was for procreation only, and for a man to impose himself on to his wife purely for pleasure was a matter of deepest shame. When Jerry and I met and fell in love, he was forbidden to see me but he rebelled and was ostracised. We married as soon as we could arrange it, but although he escaped the sect, he could not escape the effects of a lifetime of conditioning. Our wedding night was awkward for us both, but after much fumbling and many false starts we managed to give each other our virginities. The first months of our marriage were sheer bliss. Due to his background he was reserved about revealing himself, but I was under no such restraint, and scarcely an hour passed when I wasn't unashamedly spreading my pussy for him to fill. For several months it was as though I had died and gone to Heaven as we fucked joyfully at every opportunity.
Everything changed for the worse when I told him I thought I may be pregnant. He became hesitant about undressing in my presence, and frowned disapprovingly if I showed my body, although he continued to fuck me several times a day until my pregnancy was confirmed. After the birth of Alex, the physical side of our lovemaking began to taper off, although he still remained as attentive and loving as ever in all other ways. There was a brief revival when our son was a year old, when for about three or four months we again fucked at every opportunity, in an attempt to increase our family, until our efforts proved fruitless.
Over the coming years, as a fast growing Alex took more of my time, I resigned myself to spreading my legs perhaps once a month when Jerry's needs became too strong for him to fight. There were also days in between when my own needs were particularly unbearable. At such times I would wait until Jerry was at work, and Alex was at school, and then sit before the dressing table mirror, watching as I worked my fingers, and sometimes the handle of my hairbrush in and out of my pussy until I obtained some release.
I knew Jerry still had urges at other times, because occasionally I had been woken in the middle of the night by his fingers on my pussy, and the bed shaking as he masturbated. Always more sensitive to his feelings than he was to my needs, rather than embarrass him on such occasions by letting him know I was aware of what he was doing, I waited patiently until he ejaculated and went to sleep, then used my fingers to finish what he started.
My first dream came one afternoon about six months or so after he had last touched me, or I should say after he had last woken me with his furtive nocturnal fumbling.
Our son Alex was a trainee chef and depending on whether he was on morning or afternoon shift, often brought his culinary creations home for my lunch or for dinner. On this particular day he dropped in with a still warm spaghetti bolognese for my lunch, before heading off to afternoon lessons. I sat on the couch, staring unseeingly at the television as I ate, enjoying the spaghetti too much to really notice the slightly bitter after taste. Not for the first time I cursed Jerry's upbringing, and his mental block regarding having sex just for the fun of it. My frustration had almost reached the point where I was seriously considering moving into the spare room, where I would at least have the freedom to give in to my fantasies and openly masturbate to my heart's content.
There had even been times lately when I almost wished he would have a fling with the receptionist at his real estate business, just to bring him out of his mental prison. I had met Alice many times, and I couldn't help but like her. There was an air of innocence about her demeanour, which made me seriously doubt if she was conscious of the effect she had on men. All but Jerry that is. The attractive thirty one year old was one of those rare women who, no matter what she was wearing, or what she was doing, everything about her screamed "Fuck me!" Not that I had any reason to believe she acted on it, but I would have welcomed it if she had seduced Jerry, if it brought him out of his shell.
I put the empty food container aside and sat back with my eyes closed, picturing Alice spread out across her reception desk, her panties around one ankle as my husband joyfully drove his cock into her.
I must have dozed off, because that's when my dreams started.
A faceless but vaguely familiar figure was sitting beside me on the couch, fondling my breasts whilst his other hand raised the hem of my skirt. My legs parted willingly to his touch as his fingers eased aside my panties and slipped into my neglected pussy, thrusting, twisting, coaxing out my pent up juices. This was no furtive guilty fumbling, far from it. The anonymous fingers thrust confidently, the thumb rubbing my clit and bringing on a blinding orgasm, enhanced by warm soft lips on my nipples.
I came awake slowly, and started guiltily as I glanced at the clock in the television cabinet. More than two hours had passed and I could hear music coming from Alex's room. My guilt turned to panic when I realised my breast was exposed, and my fingers were on my pussy. What if he had seen me? The thought filled me with horror, which was tinged with a forbidden thrill at the possibility that my son had witnessed his sleeping mother pleasuring herself with her fingers.
I heard the music grow louder as Alex opened his bedroom door, and I hastily pulled my panties back across my slit and tucked my breast into my bra before straightening my outer clothing. He came down the stairs ad into the living room.
"Hi Mom, enjoy your lunch?"
"Yes thanks," I replied guardedly, hoping the tension didn't show on my face or in my voice.
His smile was totally relaxed, with no indication that he had noticed anything untoward, and I breathed a sigh of relief. "We're doing chicken risotto tomorrow morning," he mentioned. "I can bring some home for you if you like?"
I smiled and nodded. "That would be nice. You're turning into quite a good cook."
True to his word, he made a flying visit to drop off my lunch next day, and after I had eaten I sat thinking about my near miss. Almost imperceptibly my eyelids started to droop, and suddenly I was dreaming again. The dream went much the same as the first one, stroking fingers and sucking lips, but this time, as my arousal approached its peak my phantom dream lover moved between my thighs, and with a single thrust he buried his hard cock in my far from reluctant pussy. My hips rose to meet him as he fucked me, and just as my orgasm began to wane he pulled out and caught his cum in the palm of his hand.
I woke again to the music blaring from Alex's room. My clothing was disarranged again, but this time I had two fingers deep inside my aching cunt. I quickly straightened my clothes, but at least a half hour passed before he emerged from his room, so I was fully composed by the time he came down the stairs. At least I was composed on the outside, because when I saw him I felt again the stabbing thrill that he had missed 'the show'.
Although I continued to enjoy my afternoon naps, I didn't have a dream again for over a week. Alex had a late afternoon catering class, and he rang to ask if Jerry and I would like him to bring dinner home to save me cooking. On that particular afternoon I had been busy in the garden, so I didn't have my usual forty winks, and Alex's offer was particularly welcome. Half an hour before Jerry was due home, I put away the gardening tools and took a shower, and since I was planning on having an early night after dinner to make up for my missed nap, I donned my nightie and robe.
I was famished by the time Alex arrived home about eight, apologising for being late and declaring he had already eaten, because he had to go out until about ten thirty.
The curry he had brought home was a little spicier than I would have preferred, but it was still delicious, so I wolfed it down eagerly. At eight fifty or thereabouts, with the dishes washed, I sat on the couch sipping my after dinner coffee. Jerry was dozing fitfully in his recliner, and I stifled a yawn. 'I'll just finish this,' I thought, 'then it's off to bed.'
Fatigue caught up with me before I could put my thoughts into actions, and I fell back against the cushions. The dream began almost immediately. My unknown lover peeled open my robe and rolled my nightdress to my waist, parting my thighs to expose my rapidly moistening pussy, before pulling out his cock and pressing it to my clit. Without prompting, my hips rose and pushed forward to engulf his glorious tool, with him responding with fierce energetic thrusts. As he fucked me to another splendid orgasm, I waited for him to withdraw abruptly and catch his cum in his hand as previously, but he showed no sign of slowing. Instead he tensed, his cock jerking uncontrollably as he pumped jet after jet of hot thick cum into my wonderfully fucked cunt.
I slowly returned to awareness to find my nightie still tucked around my waist, and a warm sticky wetness oozing from my pussy. Looking around wildly, I saw Jerry shifting uncomfortably in his chair, breathing deeply with rapid irregular eye movements behind his closed lids. My first thought was that he was feigning sleep, to conceal his guilt about taking advantage of me whilst I slept. My second thought was that perhaps being around Alice had emboldened him, and I owed her a silent vote of thanks, regardless of whether or not he had found the courage to actually fuck her, assuming she would be willing. If it resulted in him attending to my needs more often he could fuck her twice a day for all I cared.
A glance at the clock told me that Alex would be home in about ten minutes, so I decided to wait and thank him for the meal. Ten minutes stretched into twenty, and then thirty, with still no sign, before he finally rolled up just before half past eleven. He looked quizzically at his father, but I just shrugged.
"He's been dozing on and off since we finished dinner. I guess he must be working too hard." Alex nodded understandingly, and I yawned. "Anyway I only stayed up to thank you for dinner. I'm off to bed."
