dream of spanking

god i wish my head would retain more detail from dreams. I woke up from an elaborate dream – I was on the phone with you, on my cell phone, but describing a scene to you. I was outside, and it was stormy, with an angry gray sky, the scent of rain and a cold […]

god i wish my head would retain more detail from dreams.

I woke up from an elaborate dream – I was on the phone with you, on my cell phone, but describing a scene to you. I was outside, and it was stormy, with an angry gray sky, the scent of rain and a cold wind.

I can’t recall the early details of the story I told you, but it wound up with you, bent over against the side of an old truck (I think I was describing the scene I was in, but inserting you into it.). You were in an worn, faded pair of jeans, and I was threatening you with what I’d do. Then I bagan to spank you, my hand against the worn-smooth denim, I was whispering into the phone, but at the same tie I was now feeling teh story, hearing your moans and gasps, and then sobs.

When you began to sob, I unfasten your jeans and shoved them down, leaving your panties up. I spanked, and then stroked your bottom, and then began to slide my hand between your thighs, feeling how wet you were. I found your clit, and began to rub.

I could hear lightening in the distance, as I made you come for the first time.

I woke up with my cock like an iron bar, wishing I could hear your voice.

phantom

I had a dream the other night, about a girl I used to know. Not a girl I know in real life, but perhaps a composite of many. But in the reality of my dream, we had long history. We were sitting someplace – a bar, or coffee house. For some reason we were smoking; […]

I had a dream the other night, about a girl I used to know. Not a girl I know in real life, but perhaps a composite of many. But in the reality of my dream, we had long history.

We were sitting someplace – a bar, or coffee house.

For some reason we were smoking; I think because in the noir of my subconscious, it was what the scene needed.

I lit a cigarette and passed it to her; took one out for myself, looked at it, and then put it back. later, I thought.

We talked about memories. I traced table-top scars with my finger, imagining what violence or carelessness had made each one.

This should have been different, I said. But I couldn’t find the words to tell her what I meant. She sipped from a glass of something dark, and brushed her sandy brown hair back from her forehead.

She looked at me sadly, shaking her head.

I should go, she said.

No, not yet.

She stood, and I stood with her; our heads almost knocking together in our awkwardness. I reached to catch her, to prevent a fall that wasn’t actually happening. I left my hand on her hip for a beat, and then two, and then slowly she moved closer to me.

Her mouth tasted like sweet spice and cigarettes. She closed her eyes as we kissed.

I want you, I whispered into her cheek. She said nothing, but I could feel her answer with the confused certainty of dream – It’s too late.

Her skin was warm against my palm as I lifted her shirt; I slipped fingers into the waist of her jeans, feeling somehow if I could touch her, I could keep her, make hermore than memory. I could smell her skin.

Please, I said. She said nothing; she was fading into haze, a ghost of memory.

Wait, I said, to empty, smokey space. I’m not finished.

I woke to pale, cold sunshine through my fly-specked window, the bed empty beside me. I flexed my hand and resisted the urge to put it to my nose. I know no scent would cling.

Who are you, I asked the phantom of my dream.

Obsession – Sweet dreams

Ok. If I were a little different, I might be ashamed to admit this. But I – as some may know – have no shame. I actually had an erotic dream about someone from Orkut last night. And no it’s not you. Those of you who just assumed it was. Though get in line, if […]

Ok. If I were a little different, I might be ashamed to admit this.

But I – as some may know – have no shame.

I actually had an erotic dream about someone from Orkut last night.

And no it’s not you. Those of you who just assumed it was. Though get in line, if I have my way, next time, it will be. Oh to be able to lucid dream and have control of it.

But no, it was someone sort of randomly outside the circle of people I really know and hang out with on Orkut, though of course it was someone on my now-missing friend list. And yes, I already told that person in email, so if you’re still wondering if it’s you, check your email.

But I guess this could mean I’m a little obsessed. Hell if I know, I majored in getting stoned, I skipped class the 8 years we studied dreams.


So other notes –

“Just a gigolo”, quoted a couple entries back. That’s the real version. Not recent covers. No disrespect to Diamond Dave, but that song’s all King Louis’.

Updates on the saga of the suspended account? Fucking bupkis.

Though by all means, tell orkut’s Powers That Suck to let me the hell out. Note that there’s a help case number there now which may get your opinion registered in the actual ticket. Or may not, who knows.

Now I need to go write some dirty stories while I pretend to work. And pause now and then to shake my fist in mute impotent (heh) fury at the universe.

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