Dreams Ch. 01

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It was getting to be a routine. She would finish reading, turn out the light and go straight to sleep. No conversation, in case we broach the forbidden subject which used to have us arguing almost every night. How long had it been? Two or three months. It felt like twelve. And never an explanation. She lay there with her back to me as I stared at the ceiling. Lying in the dark, in my own house, with my own wife, my erection straining against the bed sheets, unsatisfied again.

Jerking off just wasn’t the same, although it had its benefits. I could imagine anything I wanted. This was my release, my salvation. Lorie never featured in my daydreams. Her coldness, distance and unfortunate ineptitude in bed couldn’t be part of my private thoughts. Instead, I conjured up amazing, fantastic, sexy women. Over the weeks and months, they became characters with their own desires – for me, of course – staggering libidos, riotously inventive sexual imaginations, and endless stamina. They could go for as long as I needed them.

My dreams started in the last few hours at work. I would never masturbate there – a fantasy with one of my girls followed by the dull reality of my desk and computer just wouldn’t do. I would build up the fantasy over a couple of hours, alone in my white-walled cubicle at headquarters, half my brain on the stock market and the other half constructing elaborate plots, characters, encounters… Then, when I got home, I would adapt the plot to suit my mood and, when Lorie fell asleep, slowly bring myself to an orgasm while the whole private movie played out in my head.

It worked, after a fashion. It got me off. But it was a lonely way to come, made more lonely by the presence of an attractive girl in bed next to me. But was she was always “tired” – I knew that to be a lie. Perhaps she was fucking someone else. Whatever, man. This marriage is going nowhere and as soon I can, I’ll leave and fuck my way through the young beauties in the office. But for now, I’m limited to my left hand and my over-active imagination.

Tonight’s dream has been building up since about 3pm. It’s one of my best, an adaptation of a recurring theme. I love this one, and especially love playing around with it. There’s so much latitude. I should write for the screen, or pen an erotic book. I’m a genius, in my own mind.

You see, I like the idea of being obliged by some powerful force to perform sexual acts with huge numbers of girls, one after the other. I’ve imagined it a şirinevler escort thousand ways, and made the girls available in any number of highly original fashions, but tonight’s is my favourite so far. Is Lorie asleep? Her breathing’s slow and regular. Its been about 20 minutes since she turned the light off. Guess so. My Time now.

Part 2

“Welcome, Initiate,” says the familiar voice. Its always the same voice, a lot like Carrie-Anne Moss from The Matrix. Sexy but inaccessible. Lewd but professional. Tempting but overwhelmingly powerful. Not a girl to be trifled with. “Your task tonight is simple. If you are successful you will be granted access to further levels. Prepare for embarkation.”

Why not give myself a nice entry into this little fantasy of mine? I am standing at the doors to a large, expensive hotel. It is dark but I’m in a huge, bright city with a glimmering, neon skyline. I’m the only one there. A car glides into the circle, stops and waits for me. Its something between a limo and a sports car, straight from the high-end dealership of my mind. Black exterior, leather upholstery, all the gadgets. A bar in the back. I get in, relax into the soft leather and pour a drink – Highland Park single malt scotch. I light a Cuban cigar laced with MDMA. This is the way to travel.

The city is alive, but only as much as I want it to be. I watch it slide past the tinted glass of the windows, detached and only vaguely cognisant of its existence. I’m concentrating more on the pungent, pleasant sensations of the scotch. I guess Carrie-Anne is driving. She doesn’t say anything. The ride is smooth and fast, because there is no traffic. I didn’t want any.

We arrive as I finish my drink, of course. The door opens and it is bright outside. The start of a new day, I guess about 9am. I’m at the gate of a large high school campus. It is a beautiful day and the lawns are have a lush green shine beneath broad, leaning willow trees. A path leads from the gate to a big, modern building with a curved reception hall and broad, single-pane windows. I walk over. The sun is nice on my skin. I’ve changed into jeans and a t-shirt. Just because I can, I sit in the sunshine on the steps of the building and light a joint. It feels good to smoke up in a school. I blow rings at the flag on the mast, occulting the image, then blow out a small replica of the flag in smoke. It eclipses the original and vanishes. I give my joint to a passing hippy. şirinevler elit escort He smiles and walks on, headphones hissing with fine tunes. A pretty girl on a skateboard passes me and she smiles too. Everyone likes me here.

Inside the building, I walk up to reception. There’s nobody else waiting. Carrie-Anne is there in her black leather. Damn, she’s fine. I kind of hope she’s part of the assignment, but I’m intimidated too. “No chance,” she says. “I’d eat you alive.” We laugh together. She pours me a cup of really cold water. Its nice.

“So, what am I doing here?” As she moves to the computer, her leather becomes transparent from very precisely defined angles, so I can see the tiniest glimpses of her totally naked. Nice touch.

“You’re assigned to the History class, seventy-second floor, room A. Do you like history?”

I smile at her. “One of my favourites.” I finish my water and it refills by itself.

“This is a new class for you. All girls, all 18-19. Your assignment, as I said before, is simple. Kiss every girl in the class. Like you mean it. I’ll see you back here for brunch when you’ve finished. Enjoy yourself.”

She disappears. I finish my water again and walk over to the elevators. There are no buttons, because I’m the only one here. The doors swish open, I walk in, the doors swish closed and we’re ascending, but I can’t feel it. I get vertigo, you see, and there’s no place for that here. The elevator has windows on every side so that I can gaze out over the campus. It is huge. Behind the building I’m ascending there is a large, clear lake with pavilions and walkways. There’s a park with trees and a big, colourful roundabout. There are cycling tracks and an open-air theatre. I can see a traditional white bandstand, like when I was a kid. Maybe I’ll go and catch a gig there later.

The doors open. I like marble halls, so this one’s a light green space with three corridors emerging from the elevator exit. Room A is down the central corridor. Big windows on all sides let in the sunlight, with a lovely blue tinge. We’re high up. Oh yeah, another joint, just for the walk to the classroom. I feel fantastic here. I pass a large, wood-panelled room, which is the library. Its very quiet but there is a hint of the wind from outside, which is gentle and soothing. My feet make a confidently light tap on the marble. It echoes just slightly. The place feels like quality. Room A is just here.

Now şirinevler escort for my favourite part. The lecturer is in the middle of something, but recognises me and isn’t disturbed by my entrance. It is a medium-sized classroom, with the desks laid out in rows. The girls are attentive to the lecture and there is no reaction to my arrival. I walk down one of the rows and sit at the back for a while, smoking my joint and listening. It is fascinating. I observe the girls, some of whom are writing notes, others just watching and listening. The lecturer is using a hyper-technology display which reacts to her thoughts, displaying the key words and ideas as pictures, idea-graphs, mind-maps and symbols. I’m learning a lot. I finish my joint and it disappears.

Standing, I decide how I will complete my mission. I’m getting hungry and I’m looking forward to brunch with Carrie-Anne. Let’s take our time, at first. There are twenty-two girls in the class and they’re all spectacularly pretty. I stand behind one of the girls at the back of the class, a luscious brunette with long, flowing hair, and put my arms around her. She leans back into me, closing her eyes. I stroke her neck and glide my fingers down her breasts. I can feel her arousal. Stepping around her, I turn and kiss her. She tastes perfect. I put a hand under her skirt and tickle her soft thighs. She kisses me back. No-one else notices. I am hard under my jeans.

I move on to her neighbour, another brunette with green eyes and tanned skin. Gently squeezing her breast to attract her attention, she turns to me and I slip my tongue into her mouth. I stroke her face while we kiss. Under her skirt, she is warm and I can feel dampness between her legs. I stroke her panties and she comes while I lick her tongue.

I move down the back line, fondling and kissing each girl. My favourite so far is the second brunette, because of the lovely warmth from her pussy. But the others are gorgeous. After kissing ten girls, I find the loveliest one, right in the middle of the class. I am overwhelmed with desire for her. She has long brown hair, gorgeous light-blue eyes, and soft, perfect skin. I kiss her deeply and fondle her for long moments. I’m so enamoured with this girl that I move her desk out of the way, kneel in front of her and cuddle her closely, her legs wrapped around me. I can’t stop kissing her. She is perfect. I make sure I get her number, stroke her face and give her a wink before moving on.

Three girls from the door is another stunner. I spend a few minutes stroking her panties and watching her come a few times before slowly kissing my way to the door. The lecturer isn’t bad looking either, so I lift her plaid skirt and lick from her exposed ass to her pussy. Then her mouth. I thank the class and receive warm applause as I bow out.

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