Sorry for all the rambling upfront. It has gotten a little long. I don’t know how to put it otherwise but I think it gives a little context.
I usually don’t remember my dreams, fragments at the most and I have never in my life been that affected by one. This dream however had me waking up at 2 a.m. grabbing the mattress white knuckled and breathing heavily. That dream had real emotions, smells, worries, doubts and nearly unbearable excitement.
Secondly I am not usually one to share my insides with the world or even the people around me. Nor have I ever in my life written anything… and on top of all that english is not my first language. But somehow I feel the need to share this. For me It’s a true story about deeply rooted affection, caring, sadness, doubt, respect, consent, overwhelming hunger
*So who am I? Just for those who need a picture: I myself am a 6 foot, (now) 40-year old male. Have always been on the bigger side around 240 lbs. without being very muscular. Seeing my full head of hair go, I decided to wet shave and go bald a few years ago. Still having a neat, full 10inch beard. I think i’d make a pretty good bear if I was gay. I’ve been working around women mostly for over 20 years. Almost all of them instantly put me into the “opening up to”, “love to hug”, “cuddly”, “solicited advice”, “care bear” drawer. Where I am very comfortable 99% of the time. The rest of me is sort of an oxymoron with feet. I love my work as a kindergarten teacher, I tend to be quite a geek. I like to read. I love to know stuff, I like to argue about things, I love language. Also I am very introverted at times, tending to live in my head which never shuts up. People annoy me very quickly with an exception of the few I care deeply about. Sometimes I could live in a cardboard box for days without missing much. But I also like nature, the outdoors, wrenching on and riding my motorcycles. Baking, cooking, building stuff, tinkering around. And still I have “online friends” and unapologetically love video games. – so… yea, I’m weird.*
The person at the center of my dream is a dear female friend and colleague of over 20-years. I always had a huge crush on that beautiful, 5’5, delicate, yet strong, sometimes sassy woman with the palest blue eyes I have ever seen. That said, I am happily married, really. My loving and beloved wife of 22 years and I met in school when I was 16 and she just turned 18. She has always known about my crushes. She herself started referring to that particular friend as my work wife. – She even once ”gave me permission” to act on my feelings (if the occasion arose) many, many years ago, which I never dared. My wife had a few lovers over the years and it was always absolutely ok for me. She’s my everything, my universe. But we have been together since we were practically kids, so I know the curiosity creeping through ones mind. When you start wondering how other people would feel, smell and taste. I always felt that it should never be an issue if my wife “tried” other people. So far in theory. We had even talked about it in our early twenties and i told her it would be absolutely ok for me. And when she opened up for the first time telling me about an actual encounter she had shortly before. She was still quite nervous, working up courage. I felt nothing but overwhelming trust, I felt so incredibly loved, so honored that she could talk to me about it. Does that sound stupid? In my mind everything she shared had nothing to do with the love I am so blessed to have with her. – But still the other way around i still have the littlest crumb of fear… fear of her ending up unexpectedly hurt. That kept me from ever actively trying something on “my end of the agreement”.
***
There’s kind of a real life story wrapped around my dream and how these lines came to be. After that dream I am about to share with you, I couldn’t stop myself from telling my friend. Not in detail, just that I had dreamt of her and how much of an utterly aching, trembling mess “she” had left me. Despite us being very open and even a bit flirty at times for the long years we’ve known each other, I instantly regretted it… deeply. Immediately after texting her I felt very insecure and I started beating myself up. “What an absolutely awkward spot to put her in. What was I thinking? I am such a selfish prick. That’s so overreaching. Such a bad thing to do to someone so dear to me.” – But before I was able to spiral any further
*ding*
…she had texted me back. I almost didn’t dare look. *devilish-smiling-emoji*, she wrote… she always wanted to be the main character in someone’s dream. She even felt quite honored… and wasn’t averse to know more.
“Oh my…”
So I ended up sitting on my couch, a grown man, with glowing red ears practically “sexting” my friend and colleague of 20 years. A thing itself I had never, ever done. After a few, rough descriptions I stopped, knowing she wasn’t at home at the time. And with me being very unsure again, about “how” and “if at all” to continue!? If I would dare to describe it properly it would be… porn. How dare I send someone something like that? What if she only tried to be kind? What if she was disgusted? Just too polite to say it? So I did the only thing I could…
“Hey, I’m so embarrassed! I am terribly sorry if I crossed a line there. If that is in any way uncomfortable for you. Please tell me and I’ll never say another word”, I texted her.
*ding*
“no” she wrote, “I am quite intrigued…” – “but if you don’t want to, I can understand and I will bury that conversation deep in my head.” – “but it’s not that i haven’t dreamt about you a few times the past couple of years.”
“Oh my f.. gnn..” – I nearly bit into my phone – I know how cheesy that must sound but that’s exactly what she wrote.
So I tried to pull myself together and write for the first time in my life. Baring all, sharing deeply, and in the end… writing PORN! About a dear friend, to send it to HER.
(I know some things from above seem to repeat, but the text below is as I sent it to her.)
And so the story finally begins:
***
In Dreams:
I am visiting you for some reason, (or none) We are in your open kitchen space, having coffee, chatting. I’ve known you for over 20 years. I care deeply about you. Had a crush on you from the beginning, when we first started working together. I was 18, you in your late 20s. We shared a lot with each other. Talked about everything in the world. We laughed so much, we teased, we could talk about things that made other people blush and stutter. I don’t know if you ever knew how much I care for you. How many times I was furious when your Husband treated you like you were “just there” somewhat ordinary. How much I ached for you to find that someone that would make you feel as special, beautiful and gorgeous as you deserved to. The one you could be 100% vulnerable with – Not me, god no! I already loved my wife back then, with all my heart. I won’t shut up to tell you how blessed I am to still wake up next to “my girl” after 20 years of marriage. And still be the happiest guy alive. No one else I would ever want to spend my life with – but let me stop here, this is about you.
So sometimes I daydreamed about what it would feel like. To be that one for you, just for a little bit. The one to peel you out of your shell. To tell you how strong, beautiful and funny you are. To really make you feel special, and shower you with all the affection you so desperately need and deserve. To be the one you could allow in, through all the walls you felt the need to build around you. Around your soul. A few years in, your marriage fell apart, you rarely ever cried. I so desperately wanted to be there for you. One time, in the aftermath, you granted yourself a tiny moment of vulnerability, allowing me to hold you for a little while. Before you shut it all back in, feeling the urge to be strong again. – If I would let myself right now, I could still cry writing this. Life went on. After 15 years you had to leave our place of work for different professional and personal reasons. We loosely held contact, but I am so terrible at keeping in touch with people. Even the ones I really care about. I am not one that picks up a phone, no one that writes emails or texts. I don’t seem to have much energy for social interaction outside of work. Now after a few years with other employers you are back. And when I am around you it feels like you never left. In reality as in my dream.
So we are standing in your kitchen. You have your back turned to me, facing the Kitchen window banging around in the sink and on the worktop. We have coffee, we chat. You tell me you desperately need to see a hairdresser, because your hair drives you mad. “You just don’t know what to do with it… nothing but to somewhat scrunch it up in the back” – We had that conversation a million times. I reply as I always have: “But i think you look incredibly cute that way. Especially with that beautiful neck of yours.” You indeed have the most beautiful neck. Made to touch, caress, kiss and tenderly bite into… sorry, my thoughts are getting carried away.
“Yeah, sure…” you snort. Then you start your little rant about getting old, “and things not staying where they belonged anymore”. A routine you’ve been doing for over a decade, you were always good at pulling yourself down. Always making me sad in the process. “and dont get me started on dating, its all so stupid.” “Where does a woman find a decent guy for a nice evening without all the baggage, without all the egomaniacs and egotistical tossers?” You look at me, head slightly tilted, a challenging flare in your beautiful pale eyes. I don’t know what to say, best to stay quiet for once. I surely didn’t intend to anger you. My head is spinning a little. Instead I tell you that I don’t know any single human being who, wearing plain jeans and a shirt with an incredibly pissed off expression, looks as UNbelievably beautiful as you.
“Yeah, right…!” you say, turning away again “That’s what you’ve always told me.” For the second time in a short while I don’t know what to say. Standing there, very sad and getting angry. Angry about YOU, for belittling yourself so casually, perfectly practiced so many times, so effortlessly. Angry about the world, angry about all the men responsible for you feeling that way.
“But it’s all talk…” you add. And your voice cuts into the carousel spinning inside my head. Wait, what? Did you? Do you mean it? No – stop! That’s just my sick mind twisting my fantasies. Sure my wife has had sexual encounters with a few other men in the years past. Never bothered me. When desire strikes, go for it. I myself never had another person. Aside from a little harmless fumbling back in school. But no, you most definitely wouldn’t want me to… I am so terrible to even think about this. I am your friend.
Whilst I’m still stunned by my thrashing thoughts, you look over your shoulder. And with an unexpected smirk you say: “And you standing there with your mouth open will do nothing for either of us.”
Say WHAT?
Feeling light headed, I take a few steps towards you. You don’t move an inch. your eyes are shut. I am now close behind you. Really close. Inappropriately close. I can smell you. I can feel the heat of your body radiate. I can hear you breathing, controlled but a bit intense. Are you still mad? I am SO close, I can see the faint beautiful tiny blonde hairs on the back of your neck. You must feel my breath. Every second I expect you to turn around. Asking me what the hell i think i was doing?! But you don’t. No move, no look. just standing there, with your eyes closed. Breathing.
If I touch you now, you’ll sure as hell slap me. What am I thinking? I am not one to do something like that, am i?
The tip of my index finger brushes your neck beneath your hairline. Tracing along your spine, only down to your neck line. All the while barely touching you. You still haven’t hit me, you’re not screaming at me for my audacity. You just stand there, eyes closed, breathing audibly. Your cheeks are slightly glowing. Again, just one finger, barely touching. I watch you intensely. The moment you feel my touch your breathing stops, only for the blink of a moment. I am so tense. My body, my mind strained like a steel cable.
I let my head rest against the back of yours, breathing you in. A sound, somewhere between a growl and a sigh escapes from my lips. I can see a shiver running down your spine. One of my hands gently starts to hold your upper arm. The other one traces a line from the lobe of your cute little ear down the side of your neck. Now using the back of my hand, barely brushing you with the nail on my finger. All the while watching you, a slight tremor in my hand. You always told me you liked my hands.
This time I can see the hairs on the back of your neck move and feel the shiver running through your body.
Still unsure, I place my lips on the back of your neck. Kissing you as gently as I have touched you before. Aren’t you about to stop me now? Throw me out? Nothing happens.
Almost nothing. Your hands hold on to the edge of the worktop. Your head sinks slightly forward. As you breathe out softly. I close my eyes, tilt my head a bit and with a tiny growl bite into your neck. Still very careful, but not as gently as before. One of your feet lifts off the floor, your shoulders tense, you tremble as you breathe in and make the most delicate little noise of all. I am so hard right now it hurts, but I barely take notice. I try to interpret your reaction to me biting you. Are you ok, was it too rough?
That’s it. I’m finished, now you will ask me to leave for sure. That must have been too much.
“Don’t!” – Oh, of course, I instantly blush. I feel so sorry, so embarrassed.
… you breathe in…
My thoughts race. Oh you stupid, stupid idiot.
“Don’t stop!” you demand.
Yes, of course, how could I… sure! …I mean NO of course…. WHAT?
You said that? You really said that! Oh you magnificent creature. You want me to …
For what could have been hours, I’m standing behind you. Drunk with the moment. Covering your neck with kisses, nibbles, tiny bites, running my lips up and down. All the way from your ears, your incredibly cute and sexy hairline down to the groove between your neck and your shoulder. Every inch gets the love, attention and appreciation you so deserve so much. You have started to squirm. I catch myself breathing heavily even growling a little and groaning right into your ears. Softly, but still… I am immediately embarrassed, I’m sure that’s very inappropriate and totally annoying. But then, you don’t seem to mind. In fact, by now you are outright panting. Should I dare, dare to do more? My hands and arms have become useless pool noodles, screwed onto me… my hands so longingly wanting to touch you… everywhere, all of you, but they don’t dare…
I unsteadily place my hands on your shirt, above your belly button, still showering your neck with affection. I teasingly start to bite your shoulders through the fabric of your shirt. My hands feel waves of tension running through your abs. I take my time to caress your middle. Fingertips, tracing, brushing, feeling. After some time I dare to slide upwards, stopping right under your bra. My fingers delicately teasing, exploring underneath it.
You grab my hand and pull it down. My gut starts to twist, I immediately know I have ruined the moment. But before my stupid ever-babbling mind can throw another syllable, a feeling like a freight train hits me and blows everything to bits. I can feel your skin. Soft, hot, and so incredibly tender. Your skin, underneath my hand. You gently pushed my hand underneath your shirt. I can’t breathe, I am stunned, I shudder and I think I can feel a tiny noiseless giggle.
I feel your breast under my hand. So breathtaking, irresistibly soft, delectable, so fragile. And there’s no denying you seem to be really excited. As tenderly as I can I start running my fingertips across your bra, caressing the skin above. Carefully brushing over the dent your nipple pushes in the fabric. I have no clue how long we have been at it like this. Outside dusk has set. Allowing me to openly gawk at your reflection in the kitchen window while my lips and hands wander. I can do this forever. Please let me do this forever.
Feeling a little braver my other hand slides down and comes to rest cupping your butt, fingers slightly apart. I don’t know how to frame it more delicately…so FUCK IT! Your magnificent, irresistible, juicy, round butt. That butt that looks so incredibly wicked in every single jeans you’ve ever worn. And it feels every inch as it looks. I need nearly all of my strength not to blindly claw my fingers into it . You must feel my desperation, because now I can hear a tiny giggle from you. I manage to pull myself together and give it a long, firm, trembling squeeze. Which stops your giggle immediately. Instead you let out a deep voiced, open mouthed grown, your cheeks blushing bright pink right afterwards. Now it’s my turn to subdue a tiny giggle. Encouraged by your reaction my one hand starts to fumble stupidly with the button of your low cut jeans. Not daring to let your breast go, not knowing if I will touch it ever again. When the front of your jeans finally pops open the zipper slides down a bit by itself. I start to play with the top of your panties, sliding my fingers alongside, barely touching. One finger sliding underneath just a tiny bit, just for a second. I can feel your eagerness rising. You savored every second until now. Of me taking it slow. Not rushing, having all the time in the world. Making this all about you. Adoring every inch of you that you allowed me to kiss, touch and explore. Feathery, hesitating, respectful. But slowly and surely you are starting to burn. My Hand passes the little bow on top of your panties and gently glides down on top of the fabric, starting to caress the soft hill below. My other hand is still on your breast softly playing. You seek for both of my hands, interlocking the fingers of one you make me grab and squeeze your breast harder as I would have ever dared to. Whilst your other hand holds mine down firmly between your legs and you demandingly start to push your body against it. Right at that moment you open your eyes for the first time in what seems to be forever. Your endlessly, deep pale blue eyes, ablaze, looking directly into my face. Something proud and unapologetic in your hungry stare. Seemingly, not minding me openly drooling over you. The ground beneath my feet begins to drop and I almost explode in my pants. Fully clothed, with you having effectively touched my hands twice.
***
Thats the exact moment I woke up. Panting, white knuckled clawing into my mattress. Full sensory overload. Unable to sleep for hours. Full of joy and longing, so sad and so happy at the same time.
After I had overcome my embarrassment and picked up the courage to write this I really did send it to her. – she replied that she was quite impressed and honored and a little hot. And that she likes me very much, she also is confident she can still look in my face.
Well see what the future holds. If i will be able to dream further. If she can still look at me. If I really have to bite her one day, if she’s trying to pull herself down again?!
Somehow it felt really good to write it down. Sharing it is a bit weird. But exciting as well.. I hope you enjoyed it. If you#ve read it… tell me how it made you feel. And I would especially like to read how it resonated with any eventual female readers.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/rlw7kj/in_dreams_slowburn_emotional_m4f_m4a_friends_to