Some people asked about the dream that prompted my confession post, so here we go.
I’m in a storage room, packing things away. Dream logic, so who knows where this is. There’s a man I recognize, and have a bit of a crush on in real life, who is bringing stuff in and dropping it off. Each time we stop and chat for a bit, we find things to laugh at together. Then he goes out and I go back to putting things away. Even in this rather banal dream I’m already kinda turned on. I’ve never once been alone with this man, maybe it’s the novelty or some sixth sense about where this is going.
He comes back, we chat, and then he stops and looks at me. Really looks, and I can perfectly recall his eyes in that moment. They’re crystal clear and boring into me, when he says “am I imagining that there’s something here?”
I don’t have to ask him to clarify. The tension is electric. “You’re not imagining things” I say, almost a whisper.
He nods, turns and walks away, out of the room.
I’m disappointed but, dream logic, right? Apparently whatever I’m unpacking is super important. So I go back to putting things away on shelves. My back is to the door when I hear it open, close, and lock. I can feel my breath catch, my heart race.
Steps, and then he’s there behind me. He’s so much taller than me, and has to stoop a bit so his mouth is level with my right ear.
“Don’t move.” His voice is rough and a bit pained.
“If you don’t turn around or move, then this is ok. Nobody gets cheated on.”
He grabs the shelf closest to my head with his left hand, effectively trapping me in the curve of his body. I’m staring at his fingers gripping the shelf, his knuckles are tense with effort. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his breath on my cheek. He is excruciatingly close, but not touching me.
We stay like that for what feels like a long time. It’s both wonderful and unbearable. We’re breathing in sync now, deep shuddering breaths. I want to grind my butt back into him, hear the groan he’d make, find out if he’s as hard as I am wet.
“Show me” he murmurs, like he can read my mind.
My fingers are already there, inside my panties and hard against my clit. I rest my forehead against the shelf in front of me, close enough that his thumb grazes my temple. I’m whimpering with a desperate need for release, and I can feel the sharp jerks of his body, the movement of his right hand jerking himself off. A shudder moves through his body and into mine, and –
-MOM!
I’m ripped from my dreamscape. Kiddo needs some water.
Standing in front of the bathroom sink, I recall a podcast talking about dreams. That if you can see the whites of a person’s eyes in a dream, it means it’s really their spirit visiting and sharing an experience with you.
I’m not sure if that’s true. But it fucking delights me and I grin at myself in the mirror.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/vactyv/mf_st8_i_had_a_shockingly_hot_dream_the_other_day