He was suddenly awake, a puddle of perspiration and cum. It had happened again, that dream which possessed him body and soul. While awake, he couldn't stop thinking about Her, while asleep, he had no rest. The agony was maddening.
He pulled himself from the foot of the bed, the place he repeatedly found himself each morning, shaking and limp, exhausted. It had been almost a month of the same woman, the same dream, over and over. He remembered the first night, as moonlight streamed onto his bed, thinking he had seen a figure outlined in shadows. She was ethereal, otherworldly, with eyes that seemed to exude a dark light. It been a full round moon that evening. Soon there would be another. He had endured a month of moonlight and shadows to greater and lesser degrees... She must be a dream, riding on the light.
He showered off the sweat and dried white cream of his release, finding it on his stomach, his chest, in his brown wavy hair. This couldn't be from one time, there was so much of it. He must be having wet dreams all night long. No wonder he felt so weak - he had been literally drained. He ached in his groin and everywhere else, as if he had used muscles he didn't know he had. His skin felt hot and sore to the touch, too. Was this from a fever? He was feeling blank as he stepped out to towel himself dry. In shock, he saw that he was shaved completely. When had he done that? He caught himself before he could fall. This was becoming more and more frightening, but exciting too. How could he tell anyone. What would they think?
He went to his desk while still naked, finding the pc on and logged into a name he didn't recognize. There were words there that made him feel dizzy. Blinking, he realized too late that they were instructions. Then he was gone, blank again. He felt he was falling into the dark, eyes closing, the sensation of swirling deeper and deeper into oblivion. He couldn't resist it; this oblivion would bring him to his obsession, to Her.
When he awakened again, he was in a strange yet familiar place. This was the rooftop of his apartment building, his sanctuary before someone bought the top floor. It had been remodeled into a single dwelling, and the roof entitlement came with it. As his eyes focused in the bright light of morning, he saw lush foliage and even trees and grass, all growing as naturally as if this had been a country courtyard. There were arbors with vines and blossoms. Rows of bushes lined a walkway. Hedges were meticulously trimmed. The scent was intoxicating. What was it, he wondered as his eyes closed again, forgetting everything.
Hearing his name spoken, he woke from his somnambulance. He turned from his tasks, replying automatically, "Yes Mistress". A long table held all manner of fruit and berries in bowls and baskets. Wine and water goblets of crystal gleamed in the sunlight. He began pouring red wine into two of them without spilling a drop, then returned to moving some smooth rocks into a large circle on the perfect grass to the east. His sunburned skin stung as he moved into wakefulness. He took in the sights around him; this place now seemed an oasis far removed from the city, and far more lovely than when he sat on the dingy worn roof a long time ago. He looked down at his bare feet, suddenly noticing he was completely naked and the wisps of conscious half-thought froze in his mind... He turned, cowering and covering himself while a small gasp escaped his lips. He heard a bell ring twice before he lost awareness once more. He did have these slivers of memory slice though his foggy thoughts from time to time, like shards of glass intent on returning to their place or origin, but only momentarily. Then it was dark. And he was home in his little apartment. Famished.
He was so tired, almost too tired to fix a simple meal for himself. He opened the refrigerator searching for something, but it was empty, except for a bowl of deep red raspberries. They looked so beautiful, so inviting. He had been craving raspberries. He took the bowl out and placed it on the table where he took his meals. There was something else he needed, needed desperately, but what. He licked his lips, searching his memory. An arrow pierced the bulls-eye of his recollection sharply. It was Her toes, Her beautiful painted toes... He saw them, tasted them, craved them fervently. The more raspberries he devoured, the more he craved the taste of Her sweet juices, Her mouth, Her feet, toes and all. That compulsive thought lead to another, then to another, triggering so many more.
The dream began replaying in his mind again, over and over. The room was silent. He sat down, and began eating the raspberries with his fingers, feeling their texture in his mouth. He pressed a few between his thumb and fingers, and inhaled the scent. His tongue lapped them up. His tongue needed more to lap at. The words and images all returned. The taste and scent filled him completely. As he left the table with the stains of red still on his fingers and mouth, he saw the moonlight pouring in through the bedroom window. Still naked, he went straight to the freshly made bed. He felt cords begin to capture him as he breathed in the raspberry essence. He stretched out as they ensnared him. The voice was in his ear again, while he felt a tongue lick his neck, and teeth graze his nipples. He watched shadows dance on the ceiling and walls. Eyes half open, he moaned while the toes he craved found their way back into his mouth, to be suckled and licked.
He spiraled back down into the abyss. Nothing else mattered. A whimper escaped his full lips as his hard sex was tied, then tied tighter. Conscious thought drained away. Once more, She transcended all time and space.
Was he... Dreaming?
He pulled himself from the foot of the bed, the place he repeatedly found himself each morning, shaking and limp, exhausted. It had been almost a month of the same woman, the same dream, over and over. He remembered the first night, as moonlight streamed onto his bed, thinking he had seen a figure outlined in shadows. She was ethereal, otherworldly, with eyes that seemed to exude a dark light. It been a full round moon that evening. Soon there would be another. He had endured a month of moonlight and shadows to greater and lesser degrees... She must be a dream, riding on the light.
He showered off the sweat and dried white cream of his release, finding it on his stomach, his chest, in his brown wavy hair. This couldn't be from one time, there was so much of it. He must be having wet dreams all night long. No wonder he felt so weak - he had been literally drained. He ached in his groin and everywhere else, as if he had used muscles he didn't know he had. His skin felt hot and sore to the touch, too. Was this from a fever? He was feeling blank as he stepped out to towel himself dry. In shock, he saw that he was shaved completely. When had he done that? He caught himself before he could fall. This was becoming more and more frightening, but exciting too. How could he tell anyone. What would they think?
He went to his desk while still naked, finding the pc on and logged into a name he didn't recognize. There were words there that made him feel dizzy. Blinking, he realized too late that they were instructions. Then he was gone, blank again. He felt he was falling into the dark, eyes closing, the sensation of swirling deeper and deeper into oblivion. He couldn't resist it; this oblivion would bring him to his obsession, to Her.
When he awakened again, he was in a strange yet familiar place. This was the rooftop of his apartment building, his sanctuary before someone bought the top floor. It had been remodeled into a single dwelling, and the roof entitlement came with it. As his eyes focused in the bright light of morning, he saw lush foliage and even trees and grass, all growing as naturally as if this had been a country courtyard. There were arbors with vines and blossoms. Rows of bushes lined a walkway. Hedges were meticulously trimmed. The scent was intoxicating. What was it, he wondered as his eyes closed again, forgetting everything.
Hearing his name spoken, he woke from his somnambulance. He turned from his tasks, replying automatically, "Yes Mistress". A long table held all manner of fruit and berries in bowls and baskets. Wine and water goblets of crystal gleamed in the sunlight. He began pouring red wine into two of them without spilling a drop, then returned to moving some smooth rocks into a large circle on the perfect grass to the east. His sunburned skin stung as he moved into wakefulness. He took in the sights around him; this place now seemed an oasis far removed from the city, and far more lovely than when he sat on the dingy worn roof a long time ago. He looked down at his bare feet, suddenly noticing he was completely naked and the wisps of conscious half-thought froze in his mind... He turned, cowering and covering himself while a small gasp escaped his lips. He heard a bell ring twice before he lost awareness once more. He did have these slivers of memory slice though his foggy thoughts from time to time, like shards of glass intent on returning to their place or origin, but only momentarily. Then it was dark. And he was home in his little apartment. Famished.
He was so tired, almost too tired to fix a simple meal for himself. He opened the refrigerator searching for something, but it was empty, except for a bowl of deep red raspberries. They looked so beautiful, so inviting. He had been craving raspberries. He took the bowl out and placed it on the table where he took his meals. There was something else he needed, needed desperately, but what. He licked his lips, searching his memory. An arrow pierced the bulls-eye of his recollection sharply. It was Her toes, Her beautiful painted toes... He saw them, tasted them, craved them fervently. The more raspberries he devoured, the more he craved the taste of Her sweet juices, Her mouth, Her feet, toes and all. That compulsive thought lead to another, then to another, triggering so many more.
The dream began replaying in his mind again, over and over. The room was silent. He sat down, and began eating the raspberries with his fingers, feeling their texture in his mouth. He pressed a few between his thumb and fingers, and inhaled the scent. His tongue lapped them up. His tongue needed more to lap at. The words and images all returned. The taste and scent filled him completely. As he left the table with the stains of red still on his fingers and mouth, he saw the moonlight pouring in through the bedroom window. Still naked, he went straight to the freshly made bed. He felt cords begin to capture him as he breathed in the raspberry essence. He stretched out as they ensnared him. The voice was in his ear again, while he felt a tongue lick his neck, and teeth graze his nipples. He watched shadows dance on the ceiling and walls. Eyes half open, he moaned while the toes he craved found their way back into his mouth, to be suckled and licked.
He spiraled back down into the abyss. Nothing else mattered. A whimper escaped his full lips as his hard sex was tied, then tied tighter. Conscious thought drained away. Once more, She transcended all time and space.
Was he... Dreaming?
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