True Sex Stories: Dream Sex

And when she sleeps, she dreams of sex.

It has been one of those weekends were I have been consumed with sex, or the idea of it, even in my sleeping hours.

The dreams started Friday night and evolved from there. This one was packed with imagery, memory and the past. Pulling up to my Grandma and Grandfather's home, Denver autumn leaves drifting in slow acrobatics all around the car and then my body. Looking up to the house, it's the same as the last time I was there ten years ago. As soon as I approach the house the door is opened by a tall, thin man with untamed hair and a smile that has a hint of the devil in him. Inviting me in, I am stunned that the place looks the exactly same, nothing changed.

The man is putting on music at my Grandfather's turntable, he had an extensive Jazz collection. I hear the needle drop, that familiar scratching and spinning, then Dinah Washington sultry serenade seeps into the room.

Stepping toward this odd man who is inhabiting my past, as he is still kneeling at the turntable–I cannot resist but put my fingers through his wild hair, like weeds it grows like it wants. The moment my hand touches him–he grabs me tight. Pawing at me, grabbing at my legs, pulling me towards him, pulling my body to his. My thighs being embraced, locked around by his arms. Looking up at me from below–eye to eye– his head buried between my legs, consuming, inhaling at my junction, as his hand handles my ass–pulling me further into his body. My cunt melts.

Rising to meet me we move without separation, our bodies swoon to the music. I can feel his cock growing, pressing into my thigh as we move. We end up in the kitchen. On top of the refrigerator is a black and white photo of my Grandparents, their love on display. I begin to stroke his cock through his pants, the length astounds me, the thickness makes me drip with want. We continue to sway, while I fuck him with my hand, over his pants, past the belt, in his pants, the flesh throbs, we are barley moving but still in tune, our bodies welded together. Stroking his cock like he is the man I love, I make him cum in my hand. His white heat filling my palm, running between my fingers and all over his pants. His cock stays hard.

The doorbell rings, he lets people in at the same time I leave, we watch each other until I drive away. This was the most vivid of the dreams I had, but also the most innocent.

Yesterday, was a lazy Sunday spent at home watching movies napping, thinking about sex, fucking, thinking about the kind of sex I would like to be having, the kind of man to woman, cock to cunt, kind of dynamic that would really turn me on. I want some loss of control, a power shift. I want to be the cunt to the cock. I want to do what you say, be who you want me to be, your slut toy with a constant dripping pussy that reacts to your hard on in all the best possible ways. I thought about having two cocks, one for my mouth–the man I love, and one for my pussy so I can be completely filled.

Contemplating the idea of this duality–of how I live and how I want to love, how I want fuck love. This life, library, work, pursuits of my mind, art, friends–could I let them all go for cock- which I think of, if not more, than pursuits of the mind. My cunt often leads the way, the mind reels her back in. Could I become only a cunt, a devoted wet cunt?

Waking from my nap, becoming lucid, on my belly–I could feel my pussy awake first. Pressing my belly and pussy onto the mattress, dreaming of a thickness to fill me. Drifting back into sleep I began being fucked, I could feel cock filling me, I could feel my folds of skin surrounding your meat. My ass working my pussy–working your cock. I was being filled and fucked and there was no pursuit of the mind. I woke very horny, wet, on my belly grinding like there should have been a cock, my fingers lost in my pussy, filling the hole–the void where cock should be.

This morning I woke many times way too early with visions of my own sex, sexuality, my warped duality turned into fuck me holes. My thighs spread wide–not my thighs, my pussy opened wet dripping pink–not my pussy, my ass spread–not my ass. My lower legs and feet were tied, wrapped and roped to my thigh–glued and connected,I only had thighs–this thigh bind caused my pussy to open even further, open for use, ready to be used. Used for cunt and not mind. The mind created this cunt and now the cunt is trying to take over the mind.

Republished with permission from Library Vixen. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact Lux Alptraum.