“Yet another wet dream”…I found myself muttering these words quite often over the last few weeks. But this time it was different, this time i was a bit ashamed. I was escaping my hometown for the summer, I figured it might help to take a break after graduating the university. Why not, I should be living out the best years of my life, weren’t I? Seems like my dreams were going wild as well, sending me mixed signals and new desires I have never explored. I was trying to wrestle with my own thoughts and wishes. I mean, in the end, everybody is normal in their own way right? For sure, some of us like girls, some of us like boys, some of us like both. Me … it’s complicated. And those dreams, oh boy, those dreams that started quite benign got blown out of proportion. Let me tell you what happened when I had my first dream.
But.. in order for you to understand better, i need to tell you first about the events that took place that day. It was an ordinary day (or so i like to believe) i was home with my parents and we were watching tv, then, the phone rang. My dad went to pick up the phone. After some mumbling like “mhm , yeah, sure …” he calls me over saying it is for me. “It’s your Ethics teacher, mister Turner.” I gulped, not because I was in trouble or anything, but it was weird for him to call me after getting my diploma already. What made it even more freaky is that I had a … dream about him. Makes my knees weak even writing about it.
I picked up the phone from my dad “Hello Mr Turner ! What a … surprise! Is there anything I can help you with sir?”. His voice was quite guttural but that’s not a surprise since he was about to turn 73 years old in the fall. “Look miss, I didn’t want to disturb you while you were enjoying your holidays, God only knows you have more than deserved them, hehe”, he told me while chuckling like the old pervert that he sometimes is. “It’s just that I need the book I’ve lent you to write your thesis, I believe you still have it. Could you please pass by my office today?” He asked. “Of course sir!” those were the words i managed to scramble in the heat of the moment. Me and Mr Turner had agreed to a set of keywords to use during phone calls in order to keep our mutual agreement secret. First of all he would call me “Miss” instead of “Mr”, he didn’t want his wife or kids to think he is still seeing boys especially after that incident or “minor confusion” as he likes to refer to it. It was strange how his wife was “sort of ok” with him setting up meetings with other women. We setup a “meeting” in a motel barely outside of town at 6 PM. Mr Turner made me skip dinner, or did he actually? It feels strange talking to strangers about it but I want to get it out of my system, I had a crush on this guy. In a authoritative way although he looked like a dorky guy, skinny and wrinkly, something about him drove my appetite nuts. Funny wordplay ? You have no idea …
I had to tell my dad I needed to get out of the house to meet up with my friend Erica. You see, it’s not easy growing up in a ultra-orthodox Christian household and my dad was quite rigorous in his approach. He needed to know where I was at all times, with whom and so on. Anyway, I got up to my room and slipped into that pair of red underwear Mr Turner slipped into my pocket when he gave me my diploma, right on stage. It felt indeed weird to walk in women’s clothes, especially lingerie, but Mr Turner helped me a lot through my University years so any thing that he asked me, I had to do it, begrudgingly or not. I also had to tape my chest together to look like through the bra that I was just putting on, I had something more than an A cup. It’s hard for a guy to simulate breasts (even for a chubby one like me) but nothing’s impossible.
End of part 1
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/bs59fj/m_if_it_werent_for_those_damned_dreams