Dreams to Come

DREAMS TO COMEby Mister E Email feedback to: [email protected] Able to control the direction of his dreams, the women inside of David’s sleeping mind can’t resist him. The question is: Just how real can dreams become? mc md mf ff ma Chapter One — Lucid In The Skies “Uh-oh, here come the boobs.” Yes indeed, and I’m certain that I am in love. Not real love — I know that I don’t have a clue what that’s all about. No, this is just well deserved anatomical love, Gina Marie Hurt style. Her school sweater stands out — way out — a firmly bound bundle of boobage jutting and strutting through the glass doors of The Pizza Escape. She’s flanked by two lesser lovelies and they’re a noisy group, chirping into cell phones with their sneakers squeaking on the freshly mopped floor. But it’s the grandly overstretched sweater on a trim cheerleader frame that draws the eyes of every patron in the joint. I watch longingly as tanned legs and a mile of cleavage pour into a neighboring booth, and I understand why some guys jokingly add an “s” onto Gina Marie’s last name. Just looking at that girl hurts. “Reel in the tongue before I put a fork through it,” I hear, reluctantly tearing my gaze away and back to Sophie, sitting directly across from me. “There are hot toppings right in front of you, idiot,” she admonishes, biting aggressively into a slice of our pizza. I think that I hear a certain kind of reproach in her tone, the kind that a guy might expect from his girlfriend. Only Sophie is not my girlfriend, yet. I want her to be, but until then she has no business writing out a parking ticket for my eyeballs. Which, admittedly, keep sneaking back to the remarkable rack bouncing around at the other table. I confess that I’ve been obsessed with Gina Marie’s knockers since they first began to knock-knock in middle school. When a girl like Gina Marie turns into a girl like Gina Marie, she becomes elemental, and some part of you recognizes that it needs her. The trouble, of course, is that this vital need is hopelessly onesided. Gina Marie and I were and still are next-door neighbors — some of my earliest memories involve having fun with her as sandbox playmates in pre-school. Now that she looks like one — an especially busty Playmate, all airbrush smooth with the glowing blonde hair and taut body — she treats me like I belong to a different species, a less evolved one subject to misfortunes unknown to the hot and the beautiful. I have my new digital camera resting on the table, and I turn the flash off, pointing it at Gina Marie to take a stealth photo. The light is low and the lens is wide-angled, so if her boobs even show up in focus, they'll probably appear far away, elusive — exactly how I experience them in real life. “Pervert," Sophie admonishes, placing the palm of her hand in front of the lens. "Stop dreaming, boobbrain. You wouldn’t even know what to do with those things.” Hah, and again I hear that hint of possessiveness in Sophie’s voice. I’m about to point this out to her, but then I look at her, and I mean I really look at her, and what she said a minute ago about hot toppings takes on a whole new meaning. My friend, Sophie Moran, is also wearing a sweater, and there are substantial shapes beneath the wool that wouldn’t have been there a few months ago. Sophie is what you’d call a late bloomer — she’s never going to bring anything like Gina Marie’s proportions to the table, but still… She’s got a wonderful body overall, topped off with green eyes and the kind of full lips that drive me wild. And dimples. On a really cute girl there’s no defense against them, and Sophie’s are so deep that they turn the simplest of smiles into a heartconquering weapon. “You know, I think you’re just as good-looking as Gina Marie,” I say before I can stop myself. “Oh, right,” she smiles crookedly, the dimples dancing. “And these mushrooms on our pizza didn’t come from a can.” I’ve always loved Sophie’s self-deprecating sense of humor. The thing is, I really don’t think she knows how lovely she’s become, which is kind of cool. I wonder for an instant why we’ve never done the wetlands wiggle with each other’s private parts… Oh, right — we haven’t done it because she keeps turning me down. I’ve had pup-tent jeans and hot, frisky hands several times with Sophie, and she proved quite capable at parrying my groping fingers. The last time I tried to make a move on her in my car she nearly broke my right index finger. I keep my hands to myself these days, though they still do all kinds of shit to her body in the privacy of my mind. “The ‘privacy of your mind?’” Sophie asks out of nowhere. “You think that even exists?” “Huh? How did…” “Do you hear that?” Sophie asks, lifting her head. The question seems strange for some reason. I do hear something — a regularly pulsing whine, which I brush off as some sort of oven alert for the pizza guys. “No, it has nothing to do with pizza. It’s something else,” Sophie comments, taking my hand. “How did you know what I was thinking?” “Listen, David. Listen carefully. Aren’t you supposed to pay attention to this?” I listen more closely. She’s right, and for some reason the hair on my arms sticks straight up. I’ve heard this sound before, and I know, almost instinctively, that it has unique importance. This sound is trying to tell me something. It’s just a repeating soft whine, steady and monotonous… “I’m dreaming!” I exclaim. “This is all a dream!” It’s true. Energy courses all through my body from the force of the realization. My body — I didn’t even have a body, not here. My body is sound asleep in the present time, having a dream that I’m a teen-ager again. The pulsing whine is coming from the alert device within the research facility’s sleep environment, doing its job to signal me that I’m asleep, so that I can take control of my dream. Nothing here is real — this pizza joint, Sophie herself at age sixteen, Gina Marie and her grandiose gazongas — they’re all a remarkably accurate memory, almost an exact replay of the way it was one particular night almost eight years ago. I can remember that Sophie and I left this place and drove around the countryside by silvery moonlight, parking for a time and skipping stones on the tranquil surface of a little estuary, talking about classes, and friends, and the future. Once it had closed for the night, we snuck into the diner that Sophie’s parents ran, getting tipsy on pilfered beer from the tap. There had been some close slow dancing to jukebox tunes with the sound turned low, and one of Sophie’s hands creeping down from my waist, eventually venturing to squeeze my erection. I remember her heated sigh, and the way she collapsed onto one of the swivel stools, leaning back against the counter with her lips all wet and sultry. I got my hands under her shirt that night, without them being swatted away. I rolled her nipples and she encouraged me to go further, lifting her shirt and removing her bra to reveal two perfect young breasts with nipples as hard as bullets. She groaned when my tongue explored the entirety of her right breast, and I could smell the excitement rising up from her tight jeans. I got the button and zipper open, slipping my fingers down to feel the texture of her soft pubic hairs. My middle finger touched wetness, a slippery furnace heating the both of us to near bursting… But that was where Sophie drew the line. With a hard push from her legs she swiveled so that her back was to me, and pleaded for me to leave before her parents discovered us, and we did something we’d both regret. I’ve regretted it all right. I protested, and she whispered that we’d find another moment, our moment, the right time and a private place. Only that moment never came. Sophie cared for me; I hadn’t imagined that. And she’d wanted me, her pussy wet and aching. She just hadn’t been aching enough. “David?” her dream-self says now, an odd kind of awareness illuminating her features. “Something’s… different. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.” “No, it isn’t,” I agree, my voice thick with all the things that never happened between us. “And what you’re going to do isn’t the way we wanted it to be, either. You’re… I stop, because I was going to say “your dad”, telling her what she shouldn’t know. This isn’t really Sophie, and the events have already happened, long ago. I know that her life went on after the grief — even so, I can’t bring myself to say that her dad is going to drown in the Chesapeake Bay only three days from this night. “You’re going to do some things you can’t even imagine,” is all I say. “You speak like you know the future, and I don’t, ” Sophie replies, eyeing me oddly. “You think events are set in stone, don't you?” I do, and much of the future sucks. “You’re going to spend most of next summer in Italy,” I decide to inform her, omitting the main reason that her world and her plans get turned upside-down. “You meet an older guy named Leonardo over there, and you carry on a long distance relationship that frustrates the both of you. By the time you come to your senses you’re in college at Stanford. You end up marrying an economics major in your senior year, although that’s headed for divorce.” She laughs. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Now that I’m consciously aware of my state within the dream — lucid-dreaming. but I can’t find one anywhere. No. the very thing we’ve been striving for — there should be few limits to what I can do. roughly grabbing the flesh around my mouth. hard. feeling its warmth on my hand. I search for an area of vagueness. with mouth-watering smells and graphic textures. lying in the sleeping chamber of the lab. even though I’m up here. It’s all there. and more complex highlights on the texture of the mushrooms and pepperoni slices. or am I more like pure thought? I raise my hands in front of my face — I have hands and a face — then interlock my fingers and crack my knuckles. that everything here is real. I stare back down at her. willing myself to levitate into the air. In an instant I’m sitting cross-legged with my head brushing the ceiling. I think. so it shouldn’t hurt. “I could be more than you realize. the overhead lights make wavering reflections on the greasy sheen of mozzarella cheese. staring up. I pick up a slice of the pizza next. Her fine hair looks exactly like hair. “Sophie? Pinch me. “Owww!” “What did you expect?” I’m not sure. even pores. asking someone from this world to confirm the dream reality. I concentrate. And the devastating dimples. Tilting the slice this way and that. Essentially what I’m reading as Sophie is nothing more than a memory. I try to get a sense of my form up here — do I have a body. some glossed-over abbreviation that must exist in a dream reality.” “Why?” “Pinch my cheek. Or three places. but that means that I’m somehow in two places at the same time. “David… it’s true that you’re dreaming.” She rolls her eyes but does as I ask by reaching out. and she has eyelashes. looking for the blossoming that I know will come. amazed. what’s unexpected is that my body is still down there. but splitting into two dream-Davids was never covered in my training.” she says. and totally convincing. Remembering the guidelines. I’m certain that this is all a dream. by the time she graduates. But that means I’m… what?” Not real. and there is a hierarchy of experiments for testing the boundaries of what is possible. Though the indications are already there. “Congratulations!” Sophie exclaims. I would swear that I’m awake. It sure seems like I have a body. Curious. The detail in this dream is amazing. Not because I’m free of gravity’s pull — there is no gravity here. if you count my real self. “Don’t sell me short. I’ve studied a checklist of lucid-dreaming situations.I always adored that vertical line right there between her eyebrows when she laughs. scrutinizing the details of her face the way a farmer might observe planted soil. This is one hell of a detailed dream. I lean forward. sitting across from Sophie. but I’m being silly. she has no clue that she’ll be the loveliest girl in our school.” . without question. my God. but of course there is no need for air. It’s sweaty hot here. Out into space. but for the moment they’re totally unreachable. Deep space. inside a second dream-body while my other one must still be in The Pizza Escape. easy as pie. or leaving the earth altogether. and there are things I need to do.. wearing a ski jacket over his sport coat. The winds shove a big cloud in my direction. I think about flying high into the atmosphere. I’m looking down at my high school world where the dream began. and see markings that I take to be Chinese. When I return my head to front. It’s cold in here. it’s the lights of Osprey Flats beneath me. Interestingly. I feel the stars beckon.I ignore her. and I roll onto my back to rest on top of it the way a cartoon character might do. This is some great dream detail. What I feel is more like a sudden lusting for freedom. Is this normal. which doesn't even exist in real life anymore. It’s a satellite of some kind. monitoring my real body with all their fancy instruments. believing that the invisible resistance is only an illusion within an illusion. and I aim in that direction. I decide. but not all that interesting. and everybody knows what that’s like these days. I move in close. I hesitate. aiming upwards. Perth. not space. I wonder if I’ll have difficulty breathing. a real place that I’ve only seen in photographs. I have to laugh. It’s my dream. I don’t think myself there. some glint of light catches my eye. I pause once. to be split in two inside of a dream? Is it safe to leave my other self sitting there unattended? They. which is different than in the photos they showed me. and I see a dark-haired young man sitting in front of a computer. where my actual body is. are out there in the real world. trying to push against a powerful current flowing in the opposite direction. of no use to me until I wake up. even so. probably measuring my every thought or effort. looking back to see the earth in semi-shadow. I’ve always been fascinated with Hubble telescope photographs of nebulae and colliding galaxies. Again I make it happen in a flash. pushing the limits. not the real world where my body sleeps. It’s a colorless office with morning light streaming through tall windows. but he doesn’t seem to hear me or see me. Australia is next on the list. I guess because it’s Australia. the curved horizon glowing blue much like nighttime footage I’ve seen from shuttle missions. because it’s all so effortless. They’re with me in a sense. and I notice packing boxes stacked high along one wall. why shouldn’t I be able to will myself halfway across the universe? Only it isn’t easy any more. I’m not afraid. It would only be a dream representation of the place. but without broad wings to absorb solar energy for power. I’m in unknown terrain in here. and here in the dream. hovering in the nighttime sky with billowy clouds down below. Hoping — no. as though swimming in water. I apologize for the cold. Also gloves. I make what . It surprises me to see that I’ve begun to stroke with my arms and legs. I’m supposed to think myself to an office in Singapore next.C. Rather than transporting to Australia as they wish. with something as impossible as flying requiring no more effort than thinking it into being. and the room is totally empty. the experts with all the answers. I picture it in my mind and I’m suddenly there. The team wants to know if I can will myself to various locations on the globe — the first destination is supposed to be a particular office in London. not Singapore. because this is like conversing with a phantom. and not halfway between Baltimore and Washington D. With the speed of thought I’m there. instantaneously flying further away. feeling the earth receding behind. but the poor dream character sure seems to feel it. which make it difficult for him to type properly on his keyboard. so the lack of heat isn’t real. Again. but I can choose my own actions within this world. I pause. Gina Marie and her friends. but Sophie is gone. flagging concentration transcribed through my brain to feel like a physical effort. and she got even bigger than this by the end of high school. seemingly unaware that a detached dream-me is hovering above. or my mother into my sister. thereby affecting the actions of others. Total overkill. This is unsettling — can a dream character have an independent life and just walk out of my dream? I concentrate. My cock grows hard as can be — that certainly feels real enough in this unreal world. Fuck — this my dream. and she’d have one of the most spectacular natural racks around. and I should be able to make anybody do anything I wish. but how perfect that a vixen like Gina Marie Hurt would appear in a lucid dream. and dream-gawk. but here in a dream it would be an absolute crime to let a chance like this slip away. and forward just a little. I don’t have any actual muscles. isn’t it? I’m in control. I’m supposed to be able to go wherever I want. because already she deserves her own website. Supposedly. for instance.begins to register as a superhuman effort. The other version of myself is still sitting in the booth below. how do I go about doing that? . Gina Marie is only sixteen in this dream. sweating. I feel my physicality in a new way. I drift a bit lower. and no one is gawking at my floating form. this time thinking the thought more clearly. and will her into pulling off her sweater and shirt. A dream-me with a spectacular birds-eye view right down Gina Marie’s straining blouse. I repeat. Carrying on a conversation. carry on at their table just as before. but she doesn’t appear. refusing to surrender. though still hovering near the ceiling. Enough! I concede. I wonder why. The possibility of dream sex was never discussed during my preparations. Only nothing happens. and how to go about making things happen. or stuffing pizza into its face? From all signs it — or he. A quick scan of the room reveals no other missing or lifeless patrons. willing myself forward. Or. Certain parameters are set by the subconscious mind. It has to be an effort of will that I’m feeling. Upon hearing that. I become exhausted. I always assumed that I could do almost anything that came to mind within the dream world. like a puppet with no animating hand inside. or me — sat there motionless. or a dreamSingapore. rather than be a dog? If I can affect the actions of others in a dream. just blinking things differently. it’s completely ineffectual. Galloping gigaboobs would you look at those things! Like me. There are no repercussions to behaving badly in a place that doesn’t exist. so why not grab what I always wanted to grab? I’d never give myself the permission — or have the courage — to do what I have in mind in real life. and sense that I’m about to be yanked sternly back to earth. I remind myself — but fuck. muscles tiring. my heart straining. hovering in place. But using their example. or a dog — I'm not like a magician or a witch. or largely in control. I can suddenly transport myself to a dream-London. I’m trembling. right over her head. Show-off the magnificence of your tits to everybody. recalling what I’ve been told about my abilities. Nevertheless. willing her back into the scene. and also wonder what my other self has been doing during my high-flying absence. as I’ve seen. There are limits — the example they gave involved me driving a Volkswagon Beetle with my mother in the passenger seat. to show off her huge breasts to everyone in the joint. In the lucid state. I focus on Gina Marie. and within seconds I’m somehow back in The Pizza Escape. or wherever. what if I wanted to make my mother in the VW bark like a dog. I can’t change the VW into an ocean liner. bending the narrative in a desired direction. “You‘re desperate to eat her pussy. nothing. restless with a hardened dick. even though I’m really still asleep in current time — that makes the last dream with Sophie and Gina Marie a dream within a dream. but being blocked gets to me and I throw something like a dream tantrum. I look around. I aim. as a teen-ager. do you hear me?” That last question reverberates in my mind and maybe in my ears as I suddenly wake up in my bedroom. so I focus on Gina Marie. rather than implanting the motivations that would cause them to do what I wish. completely disoriented. her eyes glazing with a hunger like she’s never known. You want to fuck him. by trying to move these people like puppets. It sort of pisses me off. maybe I can watch her play with someone else. you realize that you’re falling for David Sand. Out of nowhere. It’s like I’m a ghost here — an invisible and completely ineffectual ghost. one more thing that they neglected to prepare me for. I go in another direction. I find it completely weird that I’ve awakened in bed. I shout out a series of expletives in frustration. but I feel like I’m on the right track. and I can’t pull her outside of it. It’s the room I lived in back then. It’s a testable theory. I can’t see anything changing. and layered? Why didn’t they give me a fucking roadmap? If there are rules to working within this fanciful environment — and there must be. I shout out what I want as if sheer volume will succeed where all else has failed: “You desperately need to fuck me!” I bellow. making myself insanely horny for nothing. or perhaps look over at the other me. goddammit! Overwhelming lust. “You’re so excited that you feel like you’ll die of lust if you don’t get my hands squeezing your tits! Lust. I beam at her. getting right in Gina Marie’s face. in my parents’ house in Osprey Flats. Gina Marie is stuck in dream-time. but I get the sense that I’ve just sprinkled fairy dust into the atmosphere of my dream. You want to be near him. No dice. also with impressive tits. rather than orders. The girl to Gina Marie’s left — I think her name is/was Nicole Dampley — is another cheerleader. since some things work and others don’t — then I’m going to have to continue to experiment.Acknowledging that I know little about manipulating the actors upon this dream stage. I think for a moment — maybe I’m going at this all wrong. “You’re dying to get Nicole’s nipples in your mouth!” I tack. aiming feelings into her. I’m not quick-tempered by nature. I expect Gina Marie to look up at me. Wrap your lips around Nicole’s nipples and stroke her pussy with your fingers. You need to fuck him. It’s hard to describe. Hovering there almost in her face. building and building until you can’t stand it any more!” No reaction. no response. Suck on Nicole’s nipples. and discover the parameters for . If I can’t get Gina Marie to react to me. Why didn’t they tell me that everything might be so complicated. just like the freezing guy in London. It’s late at night and I’ve awakened from sleep. and it’s obvious that no one hears them. My dream-dick strains like I’m the one about to die of lust… But again. because my training was obviously so inadequate. What happened to The Pizza Escape and Gina Marie? And this isn’t even my current bedroom in my current apartment. or the sleeping chamber inside the research facility. Below. the dream got yanked from under my feet.” I answer truthfully. It’s so different than in the city. David. I never realized until now how much I miss the gentle whir of insects. her voice just loud enough to be heard. pushing at the thin fabric.” she interrupts my indecisive thoughts. Closing the door on that part of the past. There are no crickets — it’s the alert device again. because the last time I did that. so I get out of bed and slip on the pair of summer shorts lying on the floor. whereas she didn’t seem capable of detecting my presence before. the sharing of human warmth. surprisingly loud. Here in this dream world it’s like it was back then. “What’s that supposed to mean?” . It’s a warm summer night. and it’s doubly true now. I always loved the warm summer nights back then. because my actual parents are separated now. at least two months later in the season than the earlier dream. instinctively seeking solace in the joining of bodies. It appears that my dream self is staying here for a bit. Again. They have no idea how quickly that will change. and it kind of gets to me.” she says. I hear my father’s low and steady snoring. I hesitate. and see Gina Marie step out onto the front porch of her parents’ house. but through my open window comes the rhythmic chirping of crickets. This is different. I feel the cool carpet of grass pressing into my bare feet. her legs are cheerleader sleek right down to her bare feet. knowing that none of this is real. I have no need for it this time. helping me to realize that I’m dreaming. It’s completely quiet in the house.myself. These aren’t my real parents. The leaves of the oak trees lining the block tremble as dark clouds skim across the moon. I’m not sure what to do. and other soothing sounds from my youth. and I can’t resist peeking in on my parents. I remind myself. her astounding curves semi-revealed in highlight and shadow. Out in the upstairs hallway. the glow of streetlights shining on the tops of parked cars. and my first impulse is to fly over there to make another attempt at manipulating her behavior. “Oh. all soft and damp with the scent of freshly mowed grass wafting in the midnight breeze. I ease down the stairs and out into the front yard. because I’m already self-aware. what incredible detail for a false world. the two of them holding tight to each other. sleeping soundly in their bed. She’s seeking out a conversation with me. There’s nothing I could do for them then. and how icy their relationship will become as their marriage unravels. noticing that I’m there. I listen to the steady repeating chirping of crickets… And then laugh. which never would have happened in real life. “I’m asleep right now. and it surprises me that it feels so real and so comforting. or if I might really wake up in the research lab. where the hum of traffic and shouts from drunken bar-goers punctuate the night. I’m struck afresh by the fact that she would be a knockout even if she had regular-girl tits. obviously braless. Gina Marie is as close to naked as a girl can be without actually being naked. Overhead porch light illuminates the flimsy negligee adorning her body. When I step off the sidewalk. with no hope of ever getting back together. thinking that I might try to fly into outer space again. and my unconscious mind has an impressive talent for bringing it all back to life. though — she’s looking right at me. instead of those epic ones. “I can’t sleep. I wait a few moments to see if the dream is going to shift again. I see their bodies merged into one twoheaded mass under the covers. Even from this distance I can make out the punctuations at the front of her gown — Gina Maries nipples. I hear a sound to my left. because in real life I was never this close to Gina Marie’s tits. She halts one step above me. “I need to show you something.” Not waiting for an answer. I used to spy on Gina Marie a lot. because her tits have no problem surging out to catch gallon upon gallon of soft warm light. I know this isn’t real — it’s better than real. to the point of using my camera with a telephoto lens. literally feeling my mouth water. her eyes so sensuous that it's like her eyelashes have grown as stiff as my dick is. When Gina Marie carefully turns . I guess. aren’t you?” she asks. Do you?” “Of course she’s hot. “I think she’s hot as hell. Except for the tip of her nose.” Being bitten by Gina Marie Hurt would have been the highlight of my teen years. two glorious hemispheres barely concealed under pale pink fabric. don’t you?” she asks. taking two boob-swaying steps down the stairs. and she never would have said anything so incendiary to me. I still have those photos somewhere. “Who… would have thought?” “Thought what?” I tremble. looking up at her. so close that I could reach out with my tongue and poke its rounded mass. “Be completely quiet. your best friend. Maybe they should see just how magnificent they really are. you know. it makes me feel so…” Gina Marie trails off.” she urges. Her tits seem to swell and I see she’s breathing fast. with this surprised look on her face." And too cute and popular for me to know in any real sense. “Come over here. “Come with me.” she says. which places her boobs at eye level. Everybody’s staring at them anyway. Her tone of voice is not accusative. probably in a shoebox. right in public. um. and in an instant I’m there at the bottom of her porch steps. it’s more a statement of fact. “You stare at me just like this when I’m sunbathing. The cool night breeze caresses the back of my neck and I shiver. “Sometimes I just want to rip my shirt and bra off. all back when I was a kid.“Private joke. I won’t bite. beckoning with a finger. casting rounded shadows all the way down to my feet. They are magnificent.” “I think that girl is… Oh God. “You know Nicole Dampley. The question takes me off guard.” “You’re a strange one. I can’t put much energy into looking at her face anyway.” Gina Marie might as well be pumping hot gas into my dick with those words. “Whoa. “She’s. “Sometimes…” she begins. her face is in shadow and it’s hard to read her emotional state. She shifts her weight on the steps and her right breast is suddenly even closer to my face.” she cautions as we tiptoe through the living room to the kitchen. plus it's hard to concentrate with her rack so close. I’ve been in this house any number of times. she grasps my hand and I’m pulled up the steps and in through the front door.” she whispers cryptically. the fingers of her right hand touching mine. I can’t tell who’s gasping louder now. “Oh my God. pausing to lock the door behind. generating even more heat with all the wet friction. “Oh my God. all… at once. We descend the stairs and she ushers me into the room. I stand in the middle of the room as she lights candles sitting on the mantle of the fireplace. and with one sudden movement of her arms. The floor is carpeted. the pussy beneath practically venting hot steam. literally gulping. unbelievably wide.” she gasps. and I see that she’s like she was out on the steps. as if she can’t believe how big they are either. my fingers digging in and getting lost in it all. “I had to buy all new bras this week. “And Nicole Dampley. unfastening the button holding my shorts together. back and forth and around and around. I… I didn’t realize… It’s your cock I need inside of me! Oh my God I need your cock inside of me!” Her whole body seems to tremble when she gasps this. becoming two dangling mega-udders with a long line of tight cleavage visible through the neckline of her nightgown. and I almost come in my pants as she works my zipper open. breasts rising and falling like she just finished running a race. I know where we must be heading. Gina Marie’s eyes go wide. her head tilted down with her eyes slowly raking across her boobs from right to left. “T…touch them. Her breasts are enormous. rubbing me hard and fast against her wet slit. I fall back upon it and Gina Marie straddles my waist on her knees. she’d feel what kind of effect her words and the proximity of her boobs have on me. “You and me. I’m not wearing any underwear. heavy pliable flesh filling my palms.” she vents. the area around the fireplace appointed with a large leather sofa and matching chairs. two floors removed from her sleeping parents and younger sister. her hips grinding down. breathing so rapidly that she’s almost hyperventilating. My hands are there in a flash. She reaches out and touches my chin. the weight upon her chest shifting. The details of architecture and furniture come to life in pale dancing warmth. “Oh God. and even through my shorts I can tell that her panties are very very wet. The rec room down below. I’m asleep. “I just keep growing and growing…” Holy fucking shit — could a girl say anything hotter? Her weight isn’t upon me but if she sank down just an inch or two.the knob to the basement door. “Oh God. David. then stops. not brain-dead. and her hands have surrounded my thick meat. long blonde hair backlit in a narrow ring of gossamer gold. Oh God do you want that?” . but it’s Gina Marie who looks possessed as she lines up her pussy to my cock. and I see that the room has undergone improvements since I was last here. yes!” Gina Marie yells. and sighs the kind of sigh I could listen to forever. then places her hand flat on my chest. Her breathing is deep and open-mouthed.” she stutters. I’ve never…” she begins to say. My cock presses into her panties. Without warning I’m pushed back onto the long leather couch. D…David. leaning forward.” she breathes. her waist small and taut. her lips wet. Gina Marie is no longer partially covered by a negligee. squatting low and suddenly sinking. Before I know it Gina Marie has glided right up to me. her slippery cunt taking me in to the hilt with one swift movement. but at a price. Filled with more questions than you could shake a spent dick at. I don grey “pajamas” interwoven with some sort of electronic fibers. and I’m already used to recounting every infinitesimal detail of every dream I have in the night. I’ve always been good at remembering dreams. holding onto those ginormous tits as they jiggle wildly. going faster and faster. This is how I always wanted Gina Marie. my heart pounding. I didn’t mind being questioned so aggressively after the first several nights of dreaming. Chapter Two — Light Body. then lie flat on my back on a special table and drift off to sleep. “I… Oh God I can’t stand it!” she screams. kneading all I can grasp of each breast in my big hands. and no girlfriend. steamy liquid flowing as I meet her release with my own. her head thrashing side to side. her mouth as wide as her eyes are. too. The hard part comes at times like right now. I’m only in day five of what could become a ninety-day gig as one of the Lucid Dreaming Special Project’s lab rats. but that’s no big deal. They’re treating me like the dreaming equivalent of that Neil Armstrong dude. “Yes! Harder! Oh God. and it’s summer. The team can’t hide their elation at my achieving the lucid-dreaming state. I’m accustomed to reading myself to sleep. I’m g…going to… I’m… I’m… Oh David! Oh fucking David!” I feel her pussy spasm around me. behaviorists. honey-blonde hair tossing so that I can’t even see her face.. I feel our fluids meeting. and she rises up. I have no regular job these days. in near-desperate need for money. but something a little creepy is going on. but it’s like eating some exotic dish and not being able to recognize the spicing. The excitement is real. no physical or mental discomforts at all. but this is different. There are no wires attached to my head or body in the night.. up. "I've. I have to commit ten hours of every day to the program. my fingernails digging into those acres of soft heavy flesh… And then I wake up — really wake up — in mid-orgasm. I recognize the vibe by taste. the pats on the back genuine. so I barely even miss a minute of daylight. upanddown and upanddown.” I agree.“Fuck yes. from nine at night until seven in the morning. “Oh G…God David!” she cries. mixing. I sense an energy in the room that makes my skin itch. This is plum temp work if you ask me. down. I hammer up at her as she collapses her body down. now that Sharon ditched me. Lying Bodies As it turns out. and they even let me do that. at a time when I’m like millions of others. and they’re like an additional spark for my lighter-fluid filled dick. place an equally outfitted stocking cap on top of my head. with a little bedside lamp I brought in. Her pussy clenches around me. but success brings ever-deeper scrutiny. when the team of brain researchers. being a guinea pig for science is both easy and not-easy. down. Gina Marie has turned to growling like a wild animal. therapists and other unknown entities picks at my mind like so many vultures. releases and clenches again spasmodically. pounding her with the force of the pounding reverberating all through her huge boobs. never felt anything this overwhelming before…" I recognize her words as my words. You know that you’ve tasted . but this one — the first successfully induced lucid-dream in the program’s short history — has the entire team wild with excitement. I’m pinching her nipples. part of what I yelled into her at The Pizza Escape. No dog to walk or cat to feed. her eyes filled with an almost feral wantonness. The easy part involves sleeping on the job and getting paid for it. Anne replies. and you knew you were dreaming. I want her to believe that I’m a totally reliable dream subject. because Dr. Anne is such a babe and I need this job. mostly. not government employed dream-scientist. and she keeps pressing me on certain details — the made-up ones. although I know she understood the first time. From the moment I met her. if not outright cozy. this impulse to suck up to unattainable women. but her height and all that lithe grace says fashion model. I never allow myself to forget that every word spoken here is recorded. why a city in Australia of all places?” “David. I mean. Anne Haggerty says. Anne Haggerty. since I knew how much you wanted me to do my globetrotting chores. I don’t know what the penalties are for withholding information — . it was like I got yanked right back into the pizza joint.” “But there were two of me in the dream. As soon as I thought that. which you’d never prepared me for. Anyway. and floor lamps bathing the space in warm friendly light. Anne and her colleagues all have their quirks. dissolve or something. but its identity is elusive. which is bringing some heat. But I couldn’t resist being pulled back. which are quite fetching on their own. promising to divulge every remembered detail of every dream for the duration of the research. Or. I’ve never been monitored like this before. perhaps. That’s the whole point.” “I think I became afraid. and though I agreed to it. only for some reason I can’t feel that. Her mind is a steel trap. I haven’t been able to shake the impression that central casting made a clerical error in dishing up a woman like Anne Haggerty to play the part of Dr.” “I see. with sofas and armchairs surrounding a broad oriental carpet. “Afraid of what? The situation in Australia?” “Maybe. Perhaps that’s why this conference room. I’m not. I don’t have to like it. I struggled against the pull — I struggled like hell against it. but you were prevented from continuing to Perth and Hawaii? I’m having a hard time understanding that. lingering on the tongue while playing hide and seek with the brain. nonetheless. though. but even the lab coat looks hot on her long frame. I’m outright lying to everyone about what happened. but nobody needs to know that. I’m not paranoid — the conditions of the experiment were explained to me well in advance. I thought the floating me might… I don’t know. no actual harm can come to you in a dream. my movements observed.” Dr. I don’t think I could have continued on to Australia if my life depended on it. The room looks more like my Uncle Boomer’s den than a lab within a highly restricted research facility. But I’ve come to speak no more than called upon to speak. I quickly abandoned the directives in the dream. I’ve signed a very detailed contract with the LDSP.” I squirm. I’m simply tasting my own nervousness. Worse. “You had no problem blinking yourself right into the London and Singapore offices. giving away nothing extraneous. I’m not sure why. She’s so yummy to look at that I want to please her — it’s a personal failing I have. “Let me get this straight. The heels do wonderful things for her ankles and calves. She sometimes wears a white lab coat over her clothes. is deliberately homey in appearance. pacing back and forth on stylish heels. She wears eyeglasses. but generally they try to keep things friendly in here. not only by those in the room but by several additional researchers behind a false mirror.” Dr. unlike the neighboring monitoring room where I sleep.this thing before. It would help if trust ran back the other way. and I accepted the need to be scrutinized in whatever manner the program deems necessary. The important thing to remember is that I’m not hooked up now. Anne continues. Funny how no other rhetorical question ever brought a hot rush of embarrassment to my face. Her head is tilted down so I’m getting the serious eyes. too. He stuffs fresh tobacco into a pipe — nobody likes the smell and it’s probably illegal to smoke inside the research facility. whether I’m lying or not. even when I didn’t. You lost focus. but the whole team would have known — in real time. but he seems to have an infinite capacity for mistaking its nature. But there are… issues.” Dr. outright making shit up.” interrupts a gruff voice to the right. Phillips puffs. Phillips continues.” I answer. I’m sprinkling in plenty of truth. ceasing the pacing and looking directly at me.” “You might have ignored the signal indefinitely if your friend Sophie hadn’t pointed it out to you?” “Possibly. I don’t see how they can know. referring to me as though I’m not there. I had an orgasm in that dream. my heart rate — and soon.” “Most unexpected. nor wired for lie detection.” Dr. “That a dream character alerted him to the signal is…” . “I could hear the signal. which happened in real life and showed up as intensely peaking squiggly lines on their computer monitors. “And later on I thought it was the sound of crickets. And your… dalliance… We never instituted rules about such things.” “You rationalized it in the dream just like the other times?” Anne asks. and I have to be extremely careful in what I say. “We’re all very excited that you achieved the lucid-dreaming state in such a short time. I briefly considered lying about the sex at the end of the dream. Neil Phillips sits cross-legged in a plush chair near the windows. “David.or worse. “It’s there to alert him to his dream status.” Dr. because my brain and body are monitored like the San Andreas Fault whenever I sleep in the lab. “What use is it to achieve the lucid state. I really don’t want to find out. lighting the pipe. but Dr. definitively. per usual. and as long as the timeline of my story appears to match the readings from their instruments. due to my dream-shagging Gina Marie. from the readings — exactly what was happening. Phillips has this indefinable badass vibe. rather than through them. Nobody has said anything mean or condescending about me having a wet dream in my early twenties. and it’s enough that nobody even thinks of denying him his pleasure. but I’m sure that I’ll be the butt of jokes told in private meetings. as well as gooey stains soaking my special sleeping attire. only to give in to primal fears and a prurient fascination for… titties?” It seems like a rhetorical question. looking at me above the rim of her glasses. or to amused loved ones at home. my adrenaline and dopamine levels. We’re proud of you. She seemed to realize its significance. Every person in this room is brilliant in some way. probably my gonad replenishment rate. about how you performed in there. but decided that it was about baking pizzas. glad to have moved on from the “tittie” stuff. “I’m also concerned that David failed to recognize the signal — again. but…” “David failed in many ways to take real control of his dream. I’m pretty sure that the sleeping table itself quietly reads and maps my brainwaves. which includes confessing how quickly my lucid-dreaming self ended up screwing the notorious big tit hottie from high school. but I don’t believe they have any means of capturing actual pictures of my dreams. They’re reliant on the information I bring back to the conscious world with me. we want you to know that. “It’s word for word. David. Phillips makes significant eye contact with Anne — in essence telling her that embarrassing me with my lust for Gina Marie is counter-productive. whose particular field of expertise remains a mystery to me. and what she meant to you in your real life. Is that accurate?” “Yes. “This Sophie character’s other behaviors.” Dr.” Eduardo throws his opinion into the ring. Dr. I have the awful feeling that she’s trying hard to keep herself from laughing. a knowing…” “But she saw the light body! Do you realize the significance? She even congratulated David when he split off!” “I think you’re both on the wrong track. his anima. by guiding him and pointing out the crucial information that he is being signaled. “The one with the huge…” Her mouth begins to contort and she stops speaking.” Dr.” “I don’t agree with your analysis.” Dr.” Dr. Anne adds. You mentioned that you felt. With only the auburn hair and posture to read. Phillips pipes. “An anima figure usually appears as an unrecognized female. but . and I figure that I probably created this row by lying to them in the first place. separating from his dream self. nothing more. “Tell us about your Sophie. “How can a secondary dream figure exhibit this kind of awareness?” “She also made a comment about knowing what goes on in David’s mind. but otherwise she is a classic Jungian archetype. but at this point I just tune them out.” “And then she witnessed David’s light body. and even questioned her own existence within his dream.” he looks down at his notes. I had a crush on her. Anne. even the subtle body is a lower form of existence.” They continue to argue.” “Dreams must be approached with flexibility.” Dr. We were flirtatious friends. Phillips repeats. Obviously it didn’t work out. “Look at how this Sophie behaves in David’s dream. something is different. once David realized that he was in a lucid-dreaming state. not his anima. that he can enter the lucid-dreaming state. “’something like love’ for her in the dream. Sophie can’t represent an ordinary archetype in this context. and turns her head away.” Anne interjects. He consults his notes before speaking. Higher being? Light body? Subtle body? I don’t know what they’re talking about any more. though…” “Most unexpected. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be’.” “It was the other girl that David lost his focus over. smoke curling around his bald head. I’ve told them nothing about my attempt to leave the planet altogether.“Not that critical. She’s unusually self-aware. this Sophie said to him.” Anne chimes in. They know I had sex with her in her parents’ basement — it was hell giving them the details. not a specific close friend. “Going on. ‘David. Was she your lover in real life?” “No. The anima is by definition a guide for the male ego. Phillips responds somewhat testily. Anne interjects. Of course she is aware of the light body — from the all-knowing perspective of the higher being. “Sophie is a representation of David’s higher being. “She clearly represents David’s inner feminine self.” I answer. “Unheard of!” expels Eduardo Gonzales. and I conveniently left out the bit about ogling Gina Marie’s knockers and going into a tantrum when I couldn’t dream-rape her in The Pizza Escape. because they’ve gone into dreaming LaLaLand from my perspective. like “anima” and “subconscious mind” and the like. because something I didn’t know emerges from what they’re saying. The way they talk about me. that went into a light tantrum when Gina Marie wouldn’t give my light dick a good light fuck. like it did at the end. exactly — I knew I was dreaming. but it appears that I have an “unusual” brain. maybe I can try some things out. No wonder they’re so frustrated that I abandoned the directives. it sure did feel unbelievably exciting to me. whereas there’s just no fucking way I’ll tell them how I lost my cool when I couldn’t manipulate Gina Marie into having sex with me. and they never used the term in my training. and though dream sex has no meaning for them. But there’s another reason. I follow what they’re saying hoping to learn more. It wasn’t. I’m withholding that part from instinct. rather than willfully creating them. I can’t be sure. I’d like to do right by them. they're my dreams. . I wouldn’t mind trying it again. too. and I told them so. then off into outer space. I get bored. It must have been the light body. I contemplate why I've chosen to lie to them. and hear Dr. But the dream timeline took control of me. no fucking way do I suggest that I caused the sex in that dream to appear. I don’t remember reading anything about a light body. but they might have to earn my complete cooperation. involving the way Gina Marie eventually said the very things I tried to implant into her in the restaurant. but it’s like a room full of people speaking a foreign language. and so is of little interest to them. after the dream shifted? Even going off about how hot Nicole Dampley was. I keep my eyes closed. they insist — I followed events. and suggesting a threesome with her… I have the feeling that something rather profound happened in that dream. It became less than true lucid-dreaming. They’ve been waiting for months to induce self-awareness into a dreamer. too. I’ve been reading nothing but books on dreams and dream interpretation for the past two weeks. They didn’t prepare me sufficiently. No one says it outright. Of course. If I get to the lucid state again. It’s another entirely to confess that I tried until blue in my dream-face to make it happen. I mean. and I’m not ready to share all of it yet. It begins to pay off. I’m also the goose that laid Gina Marie Hurt the first chance I got. Until then. but I get the feeling that it’s my light body that traveled to London and Singapore. I’m starting to believe that I’m a four-leaf clover when it comes to dreaming. It’s one thing to have a dream where a sexual encounter appears. just in case I dream. listening in on their conversation when they think I’m asleep. I know this because my head jerks. Going into outer space is no big deal — I guess I don’t quite know why I even did that. They’re repeating it now. though. My attention perks up when I hear the words “light body” again. or what I expected from it. I’m the goose that laid a golden dream. and actually nod off for a few seconds or minutes in my chair. and I can feel a tiny bit of drool gathered at the corner of my mouth. and it seems to correspond to my experience of splitting into two Davids inside the dream. too. Phillips make some joke about the program needing to outfit the furniture in this room with monitoring equipment. She didn’t do what I wanted when I wanted it.they see all that as nothing more than wish fulfillment mixed with a descent back into a regular dream state. but didn’t she fulfill my wishes. It feels oddly satisfying to turn the tables on them. Left alone for a bit. because they’ve been trying to induce lucid-dreaming in subjects for over six months. and undoubtedly will if the opportunity appears. rather than skipping around the globe from one designated office to another. and have slightly better than a layman’s understanding of the terms and concepts they regularly discuss. just about to the letter. and my selfawareness turned into self-gratification. from which they could learn very little. and see where this goes. I knew I was the first — nobody hid that from me — but I didn’t know how many failures had preceded tonight’s success. most people are wishing that things had stayed the way they were. and with the oil states imploding. that’s not true. things that have withered the world economy in ways a terrorist could only dream of. I wipe the seat with a little towel I carry in my jacket pocket. it’s kind of a crappy world out there right now. perhaps you work for the student loan people. while the ones who fucked everything up in the first place are still fantastically rich. with drool stringing down onto their adorable chins You can take a guess who got fired — the index finger. and I’m not exactly at the top of the food chain. It’s like the saying almost goes: We met the enemy and it was us… mostly. lots of folks are really hurting. period. bodies relaxed. when people sleep. sits all by itself in the “guest” section beyond the security check. men and women. My response to a world in crisis is to be an photography student in a nowhere college — proof that I should have my head examined when I’m awake. I’ve already explored the commercial possibilities of exercising my talents. My bike. but that might not be true any more. I just don’t see how they live with themselves once they write them. because they agree with you. I have a fascination for that. and all the cars are beaded from thunderstorms that must have passed in the night. and strap on my helmet. I am — or was — a first year graduate student at Towson State University. a lot of people in positions of responsibility did some very irresponsible things in this new century. It’s ironic. Now it’s a crime that some of us are not being allowed to.S. much of Eastern Europe in flames and those still alive in Australia under a state of martial law. which is polite-speak for not having a clue of what to do with my life. The parents wanted the precious ones shaken awake. With gas at six bucks a gallon in the U. it’s the fact that we shot our own selves in the face that has the world howling with pain. I’m not sure they ever will. The student loan company just cut me off from borrowing more to finish my studies. captured when they sleep. so I really don’t know if I’ll be enrolled in the fall or not. . Things have gone decidedly Darwinish. I’m in what my friends call a “between place”.And what are they going to do — shoot me? *** Early morning fog is just beginning to burn off when I exit the research facility. and I tried. but I can’t deny that my creative sensibilities kicked into a higher gear whenever a baby fell asleep. My photographs are old school black-and-white silver prints. and people being laid off everywhere. It’s hard to know what to do with your free time when you’re currently sleeping for a living. extremely detailed close-ups of people. almost as though the system is betting on my economic ruin. because they haven’t yet given me an employee parking sticker. not sleeping. wondering which way to ride. and playing golf. just outside of Baltimore. and kept shooting pictures of little Tonya or Billy all blissful and relaxed. The blacktop of the parking lot shimmers with diffused morning light. the way faces are unguarded. While there were actual villains willing to kill hundreds of thousands to forward their twisted religious agendas. Along with the twin hits of 9/11 and 2/18. Not that I have a radically different opinion about my prospects. I still think of myself as a graduate student. They’re calling this the “Age of Change”. meaning apprentice work at a portrait studio where I had to make silly faces to keep babies from crying. because I always thought it was a dastardly crime how students like me had to mortgage our futures to get our degrees. it’s hard to know what to do. I could pat Sallie Mae on the back if this was being done for my benefit. I don’t know who writes these rules… Wait. Clients demand bright perky smiles from their little treasures. but my index finger disagreed. but somehow my name got mixed up with it. In case you haven’t heard. Thanks a lot. a used Honda CBR-600 that still runs like a dream. They’re not — they’re just afraid to lend money these days. If you think that my art sounds like a dead end when it comes to money… Well then. Actually. to protect me from economic ruin. opposite from where I live. and practically raised her daughter on these swivel stools. "I hope Sophie told you she would call home more often. restless. I sat in on some of those lessons when I broke my leg in fourth grade — it was right here in the quiet afternoons before the dinner rush that Sophie and I began to hang out. Maybe environmental studies. although I hate wearing a suit and I refuse to wear a tie. “Yeah?" she smiles. I suppose I had to come back to Osprey Flats after dreaming about it so vividly. hon?” Millie is Sophie’s mom. .” Millie chides. but I do feel… I don’t know. and man do the dimples still light up this smile. “What brings you ‘round these parts? You want the usual. I worked two summers at this diner in high school. and she was sort of a second mom to me for a time. I’m not sure what I’d be good at. I pass my high school.” I’m surprised that she’s willing to use that phrase. Maybe I’d start some business of my own. and I see that my stomach has been leaning my bike in a familiar direction. I’m only on the expressway for a couple of exits. before I even get a chance to “find myself” and do anything. Instead. though. Millie?” “Awful. though. I grab a seat at the counter — the very one that Sophie sat on the night I almost got in her pants — and take a quick look around. Millie is still an extremely good-looking woman — Sophie got her shape and the dimples from these genes. and more than a little fearful that I’m destined to flame out at twenty-three. I was anxious to leave this nothing of a place a few years ago. I’d probably want to change my major from photography to something more practical. After a sad stretch of abandoned McMansions and burned-out box stores. “How’s business. the land flattens into the Chesapeake estuaries and modest farmlands of my youth. which was less than I wanted. empty for the summer. I keep thinking that if I could start over. as did most of my old friends. after losing Dan out in the bay. bright morning sun making me squint. I’m mostly confused. She even home-schooled Sophie for a time. my first real job. and their peppery smell is like a punch to the nostrils when I open the thick glass door and walk inside.” she replies matter of factly. I don’t miss the town so much — my parents both left. Maybe lawyering. planting the seeds for… well. I do miss Millie’s Diner. otherwise the place looks the same. I want to part of the solution. Millie bought this fine old diner seventeen years ago. “David Sand!” Millie exclaims upon seeing me. I haven’t been good at visiting lately — it’s not that long a ride. A newer model jukebox has replaced the one I remember. I don’t really experience any feelings of nostalgia by coming here. It’s been repainted — so has Gina Marie’s parents’ place next door. especially her famous hash browns. not the problem — at least I wear a T-shirt proclaiming that. “Except for nights.” I quickly say as she pours my coffee. a friendship. with a big chalkboard installed behind the counter. and take a right onto Oak to cruise by the house where I grew up. or in college. One thing I do know how to do is eat breakfast after a hard night’s work. but it isn’t like I’ve exactly thrived in the city. though God knows what that might be. “I had a dream about Soph last night. but I haven’t been here in more than six months. when people need to drown their sorrows. This is the land I saw beneath me when I flew skyward in my dream last night. and even the safe jobs aren’t safe any more. or marine science. then head east on the slow roads.buddy. I thought so too for awhile. you made it back to Osprey Flats this morning. Millie’s eyes are kind when I look up. I’m afraid. Did I ever actually get to the other side?” “Don’t think so. “Sophie got a wonderful education out in California. maybe. which by extension would mean the dreams themselves. Or miss the sex with her. .” she finally says.” “And what about your significant other? How is Sharon?” Some questions are like fishing hooks. all serious: ‘An entirely different world. and she enjoys the teaching. Whatever. “I know. realizing how much I miss Sharon. Millie’. But fuck it — this is Millie. Like it’s too awkward.” “Let me guess. or just the comfort of having a cute girlfriend to feel good about. don’t you remember?” “Vaguely. you know?” “That’s probably more my fault than hers.“Can’t help you there. “Anyway. Not really. where you were on a bridge.” I look down at the counter after admitting this. she is a bartender. silently blending her own sense of loss with mine.” “You could at least call each other every now and then. too. Some questions hurt. I feel… I don’t know. designed to reel in more information than first appears.” “Why do you say that?” “You were always having dreams about crossing bridges. “Sharon and I are taking a bit of a break from each other. Keep up. She made good choices in the career department. “Oh.” “When you were little you had a bunch of dreams like that. and talking all serious like that!” “I don’t remember these dreams at all. I asked you one time what it was on the other side that was so dang important. it’s what keeps this place in business. and you answered. when we were teen-agers. and what could possibly be the harm? I give her a generalized rundown on the early part of the dream. the hook catching you right in the gums.” she shrugs. You ended up trying to cross a bridge in this dream. It’s been a couple of months since we got together and she.” I’m wondering whether I should recount any particulars at all — the agreement I signed prohibits talking about the research. going as far as the part where Sophie seemed to know that I was dreaming before I did. “It’s not easy finding the right partner.” I confess. I guess. She could be a bartender with that sort of silent empathy. all excited to get to the other side. She has a husband. I don’t think I ever laughed so hard in my life! You were all of six or seven years old. The dream was set in the past. “You know I always thought you two would end up together. doesn’t return my calls very often. And this break is soft-boiled or hard-boiled?” “Hard. Tell me what my daughter was up to in this new dream you had. With men.” Millie says in reply. Hell. uh. A petite woman is standing there. especially the legs. Who knew? “I followed you here. “You two take a booth and I’ll bring your food over. Millie looks past my shoulder. Please don’t tell me they’re letting me go for fucking Gina Marie in my sleep. “David? Can we talk?” I recognize the voice an instant before I can make out her features. Since then I’ve known that she’s around on the other side of the glass. all shape and no detail because of the bright sun glaring behind her. Anne’s assistant. defending my nonexistent honor. remember? And we really need to talk. Mary Poole and I have barely spoken to each other. my heartbeat rising. just to double-check on her legs. She’s wearing a tight blouse with shorts and sneakers. “Anne thinks you lied about what happened in your dream. or Eveready. very compact with nearly black hair and piercing blue eyes. once we’re seated. the gorgeous and expressive kind with eyes that can brighten a room. Yep — she earned that wow. Or. but… wow. it’s just that a new customer has arrived. She was present when I first interviewed. “You don’t have a cell phone.” she drops her bomb. or whatever her son-in-law’s name is. “I thought for the last several miles that I was going to run out of gas! I stopped for some when you pulled in here. and all the shapes are definitely whistle-worthy. or even a government lab. You had to come all this way for breakfast?” “My breakfast is worth a few extra miles. yes. And now. The question is.” Millie touches my arm. One of the old men sitting in a booth whistles appreciatively. “What’s so urgent?” I ask. and I swivel on my stool to see the hot dish that must have walked through the door. and the same for her ass.” Millie asserts with pride. and volunteers. They don’t go one for forever like Anne’s. besides the innocuous “How’s it going?” stuff. “She thinks I’m a liar?” I choke. What she lacks in height was well compensated for with hauntingly beautiful facial features — she has one of those truly great faces. from the readings. too — I know you’re holding something back. She looks as good going as she did coming.though…” Millie trails off. a graduate student in behavioral studies serving as Dr. and I think it’s because she doesn’t want to badmouth Everett. and I gave her my personal information for setting up withholding taxes and all that stuff. She’s the opposite physical type from Anne. I think. It takes real effort for me to keep from sucking coffee down the wrong pipe. I should say something here — recommend Millie’s hash browns at the least — but my tongue is frozen because my brain is frozen because this entire scene does not compute. “Mary? What on earth are you doing here?” Mary Poole is one of those unseen eyes on the other side of the glass at the lab. “In a word. I see that she has legs to die for. . for the first time. She sees my face going all quizzical.” I deliberately walk behind Mary as she chooses a booth. and I hear the rush of the highway as the door opens behind me.” she answers. but we rarely bump into each other. I do. “I could have gone on to Perth and the others. They’ll definitely want to know about this. and I was probably halfway to the moon before I couldn’t go any further. you never know. just as Millie arrives with my scrambled eggs and a double order of hash browns.” “So what is a ‘subtle’ body?” “Same thing. too. once we’re alone. interrogating me for Anne and the others? Is she here on her own? Worried about me? Pissed at me? Looking out for me? ”I. Care to share it with me?” “I tried to fly into outer space. I guess I am. I wasn’t scared to go to Australia.” “Your light body extended too far from the real you. The terms are from different traditions. “Can I get you something. how I came in my sleep. and the next thing I knew I was up in the clouds. “You were definitely fighting something tooth and nail in your dream at one point — your heart rate and adrenaline levels went through the roof! But something else happened. grabbed hold and wouldn’t let go. um… I might have bent the truth just a little.” “Why didn’t they prepare me for splitting off like that? You guys talk like you know all about it.” I confess. “I knew it! Why do something so stupid?” “Is this where you lock me in handcuffs?” “Don’t you wish. because I knew I was dreaming. until I remember that she must have witnessed. It’s just that.” . I’m wondering what Mary was insinuating with that ‘Don’t you wish?’ bit. I guess. but nobody said squat to me about any ‘light body’ until today. I struggled like crazy to keep going… That would be your adrenaline and heart levels right there.” “My light body is the floating me that split off from the other me in the dream?” “That’s right. giving up the easy stuff.” she continues.why?” It’s hard to know how to respond. “Your story was pretty good. She probably thinks I’m a total horndog.” she quips. out of nowhere. because I don’t know what kind of hat Mary Poole is wearing. and she orders green tea and wheat toast.” “I was embarrassed. that’s all. in bright curvy lines peaking on her computer monitor. or something even stronger than gravity.” “Why lie about that? They might find the information useful in some way. Flying around like that was exhilarating — it felt so incredibly real and I kind of got off on being able to do it. I was dream-sweating. I lounged on a cloud and checked out a satellite. but it all felt so effortless and… I don’t know — pointless. I got this strange yearning for freedom. Is she on the clock.” I go with my gut. hon?” Millie asks Mary. It was like gravity. and my heart goes pitter-patter with equal parts lust and suspicion. “Who wants to know?” I ask boldly. but I can’t help imagining what that face would look like sound asleep. That part is confusing as hell to me — I got sucked back into The Pizza Escape.“They didn’t want to poison the experiment. I suspect. and people don’t understand it any better when you tell them that it’s art. Not necessarily. In theory. They gave you the task — popping from one office to the other — but never even hinted at the means.” Mary comments.” “Right after the part your story was supposed to cover. but the way she looks. only not really — it’s like I dreamed that I woke up inside the dream. I try not to stare.” “So what else haven’t they trained me for?” She smiles obliquely. not to a hot girl like Mary. and I could see the other me sitting kind of stiffly right where I’d left him. every region in both hemispheres.” “Awakening like that inside a dream doesn’t happen often. You discovered that all on your own. which means you didn’t just imagine the entire experience for their benefit. I’m here on my own — Anne and the others don’t even know I came here. rubbing at her chin. though. ”At one point. much the way Anne does. cocking an eyebrow. “It doesn’t explain the brain activity. I should probably lay everything I did on the table… I can’t. Maybe that’s why I have so few photos of women who weren’t in the graduate program with me — what I want to photograph sounds like it must be deviant in some way. and make her desire her friend's tits.” Mary interrupts my mental wandering. though. and a little bit concerned for you.” . Hormone levels through the roof.” “But you’ll tell them whatever I say. my heart melts. those impeccable legs curled into a fetal position. Then. only after seeing computer graphs of what I did with Gina Marie in my dream. Stick a set of wings on this girl and she’d be a dead ringer for a ravenhaired angel. “Are you asking for them. Then… poof. You aren’t still holding something back?” Her eyes grow wide and probing. It helps them to verify what’s really happening. “I think something else happened in your dream. I’m betting that I could get some great photos of Mary Poole asleep. So instead I say: “Maybe that’s when I woke up inside the dream. They don’t own me. it’s your light body that can travel with the speed of thought. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life! What on earth were you doing when that happened?” “Doing when? It was a long dream. must be when I — or my light body — tried to dream-rape Gina Marie Hurt. for at least five seconds. She’s silently telling me “You know I can’t tell you that”.” “Maybe. I wake up. or asking as you?” “I’m asking as me. all of your nerve centers illuminated… It was… unbelievable!” That. Mary would probably think a request for modeling is some kind of pick-up ploy. you know. just a little bit later… Total brain illumination on the computer screen. won’t you? It’s your duty. You struggled against something and the readings show that.” “'Poison'?” “Maybe influence is a better word. I’m… perplexed about all this. your entire brain lit up — I mean the whole thing. ” she says.” “The implications for the direction of the research?” “Right. It refers to something that’s spoken of in certain meditative practices — it’s quite a special thing to attain it. From a scientific perspective. sexy young woman how I tried to dream-rape another beautiful and sexy woman last night.” “I would have chosen ‘impossible’. I thought you should be monitored for your own safety. God’s honest truth. buying a bit of time to think. I saw you get on the elevator to leave this morning and it hit me that you ought to have a friend in the program. I had no idea that we’d end up here when I decided to follow you.” “I thought nothing could harm me in a dream. yes. But I watched your brain light up like a Christmas tree during the time you had an experience of the light body. In the old traditions. It might have something to do with the way she unconsciously mimicked one of Anne’s habits a moment ago. otherwise… Well. Whatever the reason.Our food has arrived. and is prepared for ahead of time. just in case. the very existence of a light body is not agreed upon. Mary. just like a "soul" can never be measured.” “That’s why you followed me all the way out here? To warn me?” She seems to squirm a tiny bit." “They believe that.” . like she’s trying to decide whether to say something or not. “Why are you concerned for me?” I finally ask. that the light body is much closer to the soul. and I stuff hash browns into my mouth. A human being needs special training. And maybe even for your… health.” “No. or the implications.” “So we have a mystery to solve. “I’ve got to find out what experience in a dream could cause a human brain to light up like that. We don’t know what caused that. I should probably level with her… But I’m not going to. I thought they were being a bit… cavalier. and lie through my teeth. the chin-rubbing thing. assuming I can get there again. an experience of the light body is a very special thing. from the little bit I know. It might be that I just can’t bring myself to tell a beautiful. or she’s scary convincing. until I saw it with my own eyes last night. David. I choose wariness over confession. Brains just don’t do that. and as you might guess. “If you must know. because… Well. Anne and the others disagreed. it isn’t. and those who do don’t think it can be measured.” “Which isn’t the same as an iron-clad certainty. many don’t believe in it. I argued that we should keep you in-house today. my opinions hold little weight among that group. no one knows. It’s thought that … Well. Experiencing it without preparation is like the German soldiers viewing the contents of the Ark of the Covenant in the first Indiana Jones movie. “The light body is a little known force. Whatever characteristics it has have never been measured or quantified.” Either Mary Poole is being straight with me. “I’m not holding anything else back. Maybe we can figure this out with more lucid-dreams.” “You make it sound kind of… creepy. ” “You’ve already given the details to a whole group of people. They didn’t pay much attention to that part. and I… When I heard you telling the others about your dream.” “I want to know what it felt like. Mary seems to squirm again. Mary smiles an inscrutable smile.” There’s a kind of excitement behind the blue eyes that wasn’t there before. all while trying to dream-fuck a girl I had the hots for. Goddamn. “Okay. . “Why do you want to know?” I ask. Was it different? Heightened? Totally realistic? Otherworldly?” “The sex?” “The sex. I’m aware of that. And then fuck her brains out. even though nothing actually moves. but…” “But you did?” “You said that you still knew you were dreaming. “You know I see and hear everything that’s discussed from behind the glass.” I watch the continued lip action. but they weren’t…” I’m the one squirming now. It’s kind of personal. looking sort of far away. “It got so… intense. “I listened to every word of what you told the team.” “Yes. and watch Mary sip her tea. I mean really intense.I won't take credit for something my brain might have done without me knowing it. “I had dream sex one time. Again I have the sense that she’s trying to decide whether to say something or not. “There’s something else I want to know…” she begins.” “Yes. yes. “Just… interested. though I really don’t.” “I want to know — I hope this isn’t too uncomfortable — what it felt like to have sex in your dream.” “I see. They weren’t gorgeous women the same age as me is probably what I want to say. I couldn’t help but wonder what I would have done in mine if I’d known I was dreaming. because I don’t know how to finish the sentence.” I say. I want to photograph this girl. She looks really shy all of a sudden. I think we might be done talking altogether until I see her chewing on her lower lip.” I mutter. So I stay quiet. right?” “Right." “Whoa.” she says.” “This whole subject is kind of personal. waiting. not looking at me. I’m also not getting a yes/no answer from her about the photos. Your subject is funny. David. I find that rather… interesting. “Okayyy…” she responds.” I reply.“I think you were remarkably restrained. “Or pretending they’re asleep. The details shift into beautiful black-and-white in my imagination. I guess. “How about a firm ‘maybe’ on that photo thing? We’ll see how it goes. though. Is she congratulating me on deferring to a woman. adding that I’ll treat the next time. I look at the planes of her face again. “I’d like to photograph you.” I have no idea how to respond. That ends up looking not quite the same — it’s like the camera can tell the difference somehow — but even pretending to sleep is interesting. You could have done… you know. and I have this awful feeling that in her estimation. wondering what the hell just transpired here. and says she’s got to be going. “I’ll be seeing you. Mary. all sorts of wild things.” she winks. and you have your way of monitoring others when they sleep. I remind myself — she’s probably seeing weird shit or inescapable patterns inside of me that I don’t even know I have. standing next to the table.” she says. curious but restrained. because I’d never even thought to think of it that way. Instead you let your Gina Marie dream-character take the lead. “So. but down here. Was she interrogating me? Teasing me? Planting seeds for me to go medieval on some sexy girl the next time I achieve the lucid-dreaming state? Just being a sort-of friend? “Out with Sharon.” “How so?” “People like me monitor you when you’re asleep. “That’s getting way ahead of events. the splatter pattern says total weirdo. in with this one?” Millie asks. since I never told her what my dream sex felt like. She offers to pay for my breakfast and I decide to let her. giving nothing away about whether there will or won’t be a next time. the bright eyes. asking before I even know what I’m saying. and walks away. “I knew you were a photographer — it’s in your file. like I can already see the photos I’ll take of this woman.” The blue of her eyes becomes probing. On the cliff’s edge I was an almost normal person to get to know. It’s a series I’m working on — close-ups of people when they're sleeping. And now you even have a job where you have to determine whether you’re asleep or awake when you sleep.” I know I must look stunned. I’m shocked when my mouth begins to move. I just jumped off a cliff. “Do you like this girl?” . or a dream character? Or is she surreptitiously urging me to go all kinky if the opportunity rises again? She’s studying behavioral science. How… balanced.” “Sleeping?” she asks.” she adds as she slips tip money for Millie under her teacup. my eyes tracing the fine jaw. Only fair. I’m spared from blurting out anything else because Mary Poole looks at her watch. I stare at her shapely legs for as long as I can see them. supra-celestial body. and it’s one of those things where the more I read. One way or another. where the energy of thought transcends our dense and difficult existence as carbon-based . I see. the more confused I am. online — jack-shit about it. You’re still sore." Millie agrees. I sometimes get sinus pressure when the weather is changeable. my brain flamed out from trying to make a dream version of Gina Marie fuck me last night!” Thing is. I fight the heat by throwing open several windows and changing into shorts and no shirt. Pepper in my hand. I rent a small apartment above a hardware store in northeast Baltimore. I'd want you to do the finding out for yourself. an odd little place that has the spirit of an elaborate tree house. It’s stuffy as hell when I open the door. body of bliss. I’d be concerned if my temples didn’t throb a little. Johnson is genetically incapable of constructing. the air already thick and humid. "Although I think she appears… haunted.” "Like?" "Nope. I sure like the way she looks. cobbled together the interior over a number of years. I made a bet with myself that I would find at least one right angle hiding somewhere among the walls or cabinets. It’s around noon when I curb my bike on the street at home. capital “L”. riiighttt… And what does any of this have to do with an immaterial body that zips around inside of a dream? I read on.” “Definitely a looker. diamond body." Chapter Three — Stormy Relationship I make a stop on the ride home. I remember hearing that we’re due for severe thunderstorms sometime today. The light body. or is it merely a further step in human evolution. even by chance. And I'll bet a case of beer you will. or can divine grace bestow the experience of the light body on an unenlightened soul? And what is the light body for — communication with and connection to The Ultimate. It takes about ten seconds to feel that I just opened a door to every old religion or new-age cult on the planet. has as many names as there are people to name it: light body. Johnson. Mr. seeing that nearly every spiritual tradition on the planet believes in this possibility. but a tool borrowed from downstairs proved that Mr. but no one actually knows — or says. everybody is pointing in the direction of spiritual enlightenment and the alchemical transformation of earthly flesh into a literal body of Light.“I don’t really know her. radiant body. using scrap material he could get at enormous savings. There are many “definite” statements about the light body. and tall dark clouds are building ominously in the summer haze. a right angle. because it does. The place has tons of mismatched windows and has what my ex-girlfriend called “cartoon character”. but even more questions: Does the earthly body have to wither and literally die for the light body to appear? Must one attain a permanent connection to the God Force through meditative efforts and devotion. picking up a few groceries and some Advil for a throbbing headache in my temples. Be careful with that one. With a glass of iced Dr. It doesn’t help that my motorcycle helmet presses tight to these areas. and because I have this thing about air conditioning bringing down civilization through global warming. my landlord and the owner of the hardware store below. Even if I knew. I flop down on my couch and fire up my laptop. and she has some things to figure out. subtle body… I click through several definitions. David. resurrected body. and knowing that. typing the words “light body” once the search engine comes online. It’s freshly painted — about a dozen different colors — and everything everywhere appears to slope one way or another. as in “Omigod. and I can’t help but think of Mary Poole’s concerns. Um. Gina Marie’s titties definitely felt like heavenly spheres in my hands. flipping from one thought to the next. The first is a sales call. but then I went off-script and lied about it. It seemed like a trivial thing at first. Today. I laugh again. but this stuff about an evolutionary leap is everywhere in the articles and book descriptions I surf through. and . Standing still. all the way until I hear orgasmic cries that are definitely female. and it proved fatal to our relationship. though. Incredibly. and stuck to my position of doubt. but it grew into a wedge that doomed our relationship. or is that only wishful thinking? And how precarious is my position in the dream program? I succeeded where others have apparently failed. I’m feeling that same skepticism while reading through this stuff on my computer. and I might be persuaded to call the dream-me a “body of bliss” while they hump-wobbled in front of me. with access to Sharon’s toned and flexible yoga body hanging in the balance. and I couldn’t feel something that basic to my personality change just by stretching my body. but her body was definitely designed for sin. I read about ethereal forms of energy so refined that they are unknown to conventional physics. I turn on the TV for relief. my head throbs and my attention skips around like it’s also controlled by a remote. as Dr. I thought the same way about Sharon. the excited panting sounds female. and Mary Poole’s legs in her summer shorts. with no robes and beards involved. because the light body keeps being tied to a quest for spiritual attainment — a supposed purification of all earthly desires — and all I wanted to attain last night was Gina Marie’s “titties”. with men on second and third in the second inning with no outs. Gina Marie’s boobs keep flashing in my mind. I must believe in stubbornness. The Orioles are up 2-0. and the word that comes to mind is “sinful”. I read how the light body is an altered vehicle of consciousness that can operate within ordinary space-time in ways impossible for biological flesh. I’m not going to say that it’s all a crock. I liked the stretching. and I wonder how much she knows about this stuff. because I just couldn’t do it. just to make peace. and the backs of those shapely legs walking in front of me.life? I’d thought that religions were at war with the theory of evolution. Phillips so kindly put it. but now with a hard-on. Sharon believed… no. and drama like this would normally have me poised to cheer on the home team or throw the remote at the TV. not “spiritual”. I get up to put some fresh ice in my glass. Even if her outlook was more Eastern. however. I guess I could have faked it. and she got pretty irritated with my attitude about the so-called spiritual aspect of the practice. but I feel decidedly dense and mortal these days. and the second makes me laugh out loud. It was tempting. Then again. but my brain switched off every time the instructor said something about feeling a connection in the body to “higher energies from above”. because it sounds like some woman just masturbated the living fuck out of herself. because it’s a heavy breather. and notice that I have two phone messages on my machine. she said she knew that our individual paths are guided by an intelligent higher power. I grew up hating the Yankees and see no reason to change. and there’s an Orioles/Yankees game on cable. not firmly. Maybe it’s that sound — a woman in heat. I listen with rapt attention. Mary Poole hinted at similar things over breakfast. I mean. which I haven’t heard recently — that gets me feeling so agitated. I attended a few yoga lessons with her. but I hardly think that’s what everybody is talking about. I picture her beautiful face. and I got to hear it. proclaiming that I believed whatever Sharon believed. while being at the very heart of ancient metaphysics and higher mysticism. Was she flirting with me today. I knew nothing of the sort. She may have the face of an angel. I’m almost positive that I know what created the brain highlights that Mary talked about. Hell. taking in her beauty through the viewfinder with her boyfriend hanging out like a bodyguard during the shoot. Without even knowing I could. that would never be accessible in real life? No one would get hurt. and take her up into the stratosphere to fuck her astronaut-style. but consciously working within the parameters that the subconscious has already chosen to visit. But then our cat Midnight slinked in the door and brushed up against me. pressing the cool of the glass to my right temple. Pretty crazy dream for a six year-old kid. I switch to The Weather Channel. and inside the many vaginas. not just see — if they appeared. and read a severe thunderstorm warning . of biting off more than I can chew when I’m asleep. And failing. I’m sort of tired for the early afternoon. and an entirely new dream appeared. too. Kay. though — I don’t think I can be in control of who shows up in a dream. Half the class held its breath every time she removed her sweater. I’d just love to plant myself between her divine legs. the redhead with the super-narrow waist and the power boobs surging out above. I knew then that I was dreaming — either that or Midnight had come back to life. my wishes. Or what about that half-Asian girl. but the pleasure would feel completely real. I’d want to fuck them. though — there must be countless women I’ve known or merely seen in my life that quickened my pulse and stirred my cock. I do see a problem. because there are plenty of women from my past that I’d like to see again. I was so happy to see him and I hugged him tight… And then realized that the reason I was so happy was that Midnight had died the year before. Everything was normal — I had no awareness that I was actually asleep. where almost everything I wanted came true. and wanted sex with her cheerleader friend. Well. which I was pretty sure was impossible. from my digital photo class? Laurel had calves that looked like they might crush my motorcycle if she rode on the back. I could make Laurel’s boyfriend gay. I told them from the beginning that I’ve had a good number of lucid dreams in my life. It’s like my thoughts. Luciddreaming isn’t about willfully creating crazy scenarios in the mind. starting when I was a kid. my eighth grade English teacher. Laurel Lee. I could explore that. What would it be like to travel down the many pathways. The threesome never happened — maybe if I'd kept dreaming. did I try to do that? I recall what Millie said about how I always tried to get to the other side of a bridge in my dreams — now I seem to be trying to get to the other side of the whole fucking galaxy. In the very first one — I was only six when I had it — I was playing with some toy soldiers on the floor of my bedroom. and in dream form I could do everything with any girl that I ever fantasized about. and lie back on the sofa. for instance. and it was kind of painful when she agreed to model for me. and how many times did I jack off thinking about her back then? I think about the girl who worked at the coffee shop on Charles Street for awhile. What would I have done if I could have flown to another planet or wherever? And why. I must have a habit of that. even if it was dream skin. since I heaped lust for Nicole’s tits and pussy onto Gina Marie. She even wanted her friend Nicole to join us — I never said anything about a threesome. Ms. Thing is. I willed a totally hot dream into existence where a rackalicious babe wanted me to have my way with her. Thunder rumbles outside. just like old times. as far as I know. got under her skin. Last night’s dream was pretty crazy. I told the dream-Gina Marie that she desired me and needed to fuck me. I can only hope that they’ll forgive me and keep me on for the full ninety days. My sexual partners would be whichever women happened to appear in my dreams — I wouldn’t think it possible to summon a particular woman just by wishing it so.I'm betting that mary will confirm that. just once. exactly. but I never got the sense that they entirely believed me. instead of waking up? The possibilities are insanely cock-hardening. but it’s right out of the playbook . wondering if she’s on something.scrolling at the bottom of the screen. Thunder cracks. now that the rules are look but don’t touch. it’s Sharon. and it’s a no-brainer that the baseball game is going to be rain delayed or even postponed. not theirs. please. but I wonder if she’s showing so much skin just to twist the knife. You weren’t really capable of it before. leading a tour. I turn off the TV. I put my ear to the door. It’s so dark that the street lights have come on. I open the door to find her standing at the top of the stairs in cut-offs and a lime green tank top. I have the sense that this is no ordinary visitor. and close the windows all around. and listen. and I try to picture where Sharon would be right now. We need a much better relationship. We need to speak almost every night. I wonder how much shit Anne or the others will give me about holding information back in the post-dream debriefing. She glides past me and sits sideways on the couch. great legs. “You're going to have to wake up. as though my questions are like lint to be swept out of the air. and realize how little time there is. watching these same storms roll through. David.” Sharon never speaks like this — she’s always very direct. Probably at the aquarium. remember?” . They show radar images of the line of storms. Mary Poole. “Advice? What advice?” “We need to communicate more.” she laments. yes. their sensors fooled by the slate grey air. and see flashes of light flicker on the dark screens of my eyelids. Kay. she might be at her apartment. We need to talk. “I’m here to give you some advice. expecting to hear a woman panting heavily. but you are now. The windows rattle just before a wave of raindrops slap at the glass.” she says. “It’s time for you to rise above that. Or. She’s too lovely to not have one. Sharon in leotards with her legs spread wide. her body glistening with sweat as lightning flashes outside. “What are you talking about? Why are you even here?” She makes a brushing gesture. like she’s masturbating the living fuck out of herself. It’s hot. Lying on the sofa with a throw pillow under my head. “David? Open up. I think of Ms. I wonder if I’ll be able to recognize the whine of the signal tonight when I dream. because a door has been opened. I look at her suspiciously. But it needs to be your door. I wonder if the storm system will have passed before I have to make the ride to the facility. and there are probably rules about anyone on staff becoming romantic with one of the test subjects. I picture her nude on her yoga mat.” she says. if it’s a day off. her fine legs stretched out. I close my eyes. I wonder how long someone’s been knocking at my door. bulging sweaters.” “A better relationship? You broke up with me. I wonder if Mary Poole has a boyfriend. Gina Marie’s tits. “You can be so dense. The fucking Yankees — they always have some way of getting out of a jam.” No masturbating woman. I can travel in a flash — I learned that last night — but some things seem to be set in place. if you were sleeping in the lab?” she asks. but there is no signal because I’m asleep in my apartment. I concentrate hard on making Gina Marie appear in front of me. I get so close to Sharon that I’m almost skimming her body with my nose. Which isn’t exactly a disaster. you really do need to wake up. and you’ll never make it to the other side without help. though I’m not sure why. because someone was speaking about crossing bridges just recently. and learn. just to see whether I can dial up a specific sex act: Deep down. I look into Sharon’s eyes and feel like I know her and don’t know her all at the same time.” I answer. and start by willing my eighth grade English teacher to appear in the dream. As before. and I go over the sequence. her body uncurling from the couch with almost unnatural grace. I begin. I’m still asleep on my couch with the thunderstorm raging outside. God damn all that yoga is doing some fine things for Sharon’s body. There is a bridge that must be crossed. And then. Recognize the energy. Nothing changes. but you’re all torn up about having broken up with me.” “Okay. hoping to repeat the stirring results of the night before: You didn’t realize it before. An entire scenario appears in my head in a flash. along with the Sharon who talks in riddles. I recall some of the things I wanted to try out. your whole body longing for my touch. “What would you hear right now. “You know me. To prove that I’m in the lucid state. of course. from fingernails to individual eyebrow hairs to the faint chicken pox scar up where her hair begins on her forehead. Sharon’s tits always reminded me of an adult version of a Barbie doll. you know you can give amazing head. not the form. and ask a question when you really need answers. I don’t hear anything but the patter of rain and the rumble of thunder. not with my sexy ex-girlfriend in the room. “But you…” “Do you hear that?” she interrupts. The thing is. You can’t stop thinking about me. and I might be stuck with them. and all this stuff with Sharon is just another dream. You want to tease me. but I also know I could wake up at any second and lose any opportunity to act. and awareness of my current reality comes flooding in. okay. The question makes my entire body shiver. full and kind of exuberant. Just to double-check. yet she won’t even return my calls when I leave a message on her… “David.” I’d hear the signal in the lab. Do you understand?” I’m momentarily disoriented. just like I expected. I’m elated at being in the lucid state again. I will myself to fly up to the ceiling and sure enough. both hands resting on my cheeks. “You need to wake up. Floating down. and I tell her so. Down below her tits jut out alluringly under the tank top. but you still don’t know me. David. and it’s the same. Which I’d just love to fondle again. not the… “I’m dreaming!” I shout. you ache with desire. cocking her head to listen. and that nothing can make you come . then aim it all into this version of Sharon. every detail is there. Lightning flashes and she’s suddenly right in front of me. It’s like she’s my soul mate. feeling between worlds. with accessory nipples included. then stands.She shakes her head like I’m just not getting it. I’m suddenly floating up here with the other me standing down there. by trying to create a seduction dream the same way I did last night. and you ache to use all of your flexibility for my sexual pleasure. I experience no confusion this time — I’m still dreaming. as this office is bright and sunny with office workers dressed in colorful garments. It’s instantaneous and effortless just as before — here’s something I can do with my sleeping eyes closed. Phillips. and my brain is never going to light up like that again. But would the team even believe that I slipped into the lucid-state again so soon? That’s probably why I need to be hooked up to all that monitoring equipment. It occurs to me that Mary Poole could be around in this dream setting — and wouldn’t I like to try getting a dream-piece of that — so I float through the wall into the monitoring area. though I must have known that they’d have someone else sleeping there on a shift opposite from mine. One building a block or more away is on fire. with the glowing red numbers of a digital wall clock reading 5:54. I suddenly wake up in my apartment. Someone is pounding on the door. so they can know for sure that I’m not just inventing a bunch of stuff that I know they’d want to hear. and I’m so fucking hard. dammit. and it begins to feel weird that in real life I’m lying right there on the couch. in Honolulu. There are people milling about. and without a . Maybe if I knew where she lived. and I start to get bored as nothing happens. Thinking about the research facility. my cock rocketing hard. I float around and yell out some random shit to the staff. Hell. and this looks exactly like it did then. with Perth looking like a city on its way to becoming a Road Warrior landscape. I’m suddenly there. The team would probably be interested in details like this — I don’t know if dream-time is at all consistent. I float over to a window and look outside. and I can see soldiers. but no Mary Poole. or will a new dream just appear. or any other hot babe if that worked. and others sitting in front of monitoring screens — they showed me this room during my interview. Will I “wake up” inside the dream like I did the last time. I’m perfectly happy to think myself to the next office on the dream list. A young woman I’ve never met is lying on the special table — I think of it as my table. which reads 10:55 AM. trying to gain the attention of anybody at all. but too much like reality. passing into various offices. arguing with a much taller man out in the hall. with several crumbled buildings on the other side of the street. I float back a bit. There in a blink. It’s an urban environment below. then the conference room where they debrief me every night. it’s like heaven after hell. I could do the same with Anne. but no one reacts to me. apparently throwing some sort of party. I think myself into the office in Perth that I failed to visit last night. why isn’t it changing? Could last night have been a one-time thing. It’s a dream. only I’m in bed. waiting breathlessly for what I know is going to happen next.more intensely than having my cum spurting in your mouth. Almost to pass the time. I float down the hallways. I move close to a computer screen and look at the time signature. I keep hoping. but it seems to be. hanging close to walls or overturned cars with their weapons at the ready. except that I don’t recognize these people. I could think myself there and try getting some dream sex going with her that way. I see Dr. like a scene change in a movie? I hover there anticipating the shift… Waiting for everything to change… Crap. not on the sofa. listening to the same summer storm. and floating. some accidental mishmash of neurons agitating other neurons? Maybe there’s nothing to count on. Curious. I’m still floating in the dream version of my apartment. surrounding the building dressed in combat gear. though who gives a crap? It’s night in this dream office. not firemen. and I grin. no special repeatable thing going on at all. hovering inside the sleeping chamber. ” I make room and she slips by. My eyes lock on to her nipples. In this world. yet now you’re knocking at my door. fingers brushing at her hard nipples through the wet of her shirt.doubt it’s going to be Sharon on the other side of that door. “I’m so… wet. except that she’s sopping wet from head to foot. I’m in shorts with no shirt. but the next best thing.” I say sternly. She looks up into the mirror and sees me watching.” she says. I decide that.” I say. “What are you doing here. knowing that her pussy is stretched as wide open as a pussy can be. in the bedroom. it will make my own hardness all the more delicious if I go with the latter. patting the mattress. smiling the conquering smile of a woman who knows how hot her body is. Please?” We both walk down the short hallway.” she says. “What do you want from me. “You don’t really want that. As soon as she sees my bed she sprints and flops onto it. under the circumstances. and smiles with her eyes going all seductive. “Can I change into some of your clothes before we talk?” she asks.” she says. “About us. It’s a leg-splitting yoga position I’ve seen her take before — she knows how hard it makes me.” She’s standing in the center of the room. Damn right. I wonder if we’ve done the right thing. A glance into the dresser mirror shows me that Sharon has her legs spread completely sideways.” Oh. I can’t… I keep having these feelings. Not real. “Sharon. unfortunately. just like in reality. and she looks sheepish. . with her torso leaning forward. hopefully all revved to inhale my dick. “I’ve… really missed you. me watching Sharon’s ass sway. you need that. her hands becoming more active.” she whispers. “You know where my things are. “No… Help me pick something out. bouncing on her back with her legs spread wide. but don’t make any move to actually get anything. I go to my closet. and when I open the door I exclaim: ”Sharon! I sure didn’t expect to see you!” She’s dressed just as she was in the last dream. this is good. savoring my dominant position in this dream world. I mean. girl.” I'll bet. and her hands rise sinuously. you have no choice. anyway?” I ask. “You won’t even return my calls. David. “I’ve missed this!” she exclaims. which I can see easily right through the damp of her top. The look in her eyes isn’t an act — she looks like she’s beginning to pant. “I’m drenched.” Her eyes flash panic before she gathers her emotions. “I… I’ve been thinking. “Come here. “Can I come in?” she asks sheepishly. “I think you should just leave. and I’m betting that her shorts are damp from more than the rain. Sharon?” I ask. or playing hard to get. and I’m delighted when her eyes take a reflexive peek down at the erection tenting my shorts. and how hard I am. It occurs to me that I can play this scene one of two ways — making the seduction easy for her. fingers pinching her nipples through the cotton, and pulling at them. “I… need your touch, David. I didn’t realize it at first, but I’ve longed for you, and ached for you…” She grasps the bottom of her tank top and peels it over her head, her fine breasts pointing right at me. She licks her lips and crooks a finger, patting the mattress again. “Get over here,” she softly commands. Sharon’s cheeks are so red they’re almost glowing, and though I can’t see it, I can sense that her pussy burns like a furnace. This is wonderful, better than real. “I’m not falling for this shit,” I declare, wanting to see her heat melt her composure. “If you won’t leave, I will,” and I take a couple of decisive steps towards the hallway. “No!” she cries out, leaping off the bed. “Oh God no, please, I…” “You what?” I demand, turning on her. “I…” Her mouth works nervously, like she can already feel my cock filling it. “I… need…” “You need what?” “You! I need you!” “You should have thought of that months ago, shouldn’t you?” I say, turning away. She grabs my wrist, pulling hard. “No! Don’t leave! I’ll… You always liked it when I…” She’s already on her knees, unzipping me. “Give me one good reason why I should let you,” I say, my words betrayed by the pulsing in my cock. It’s all bravado, even to me now, because she has me pulled out, and she’s rolling my fat cock in her warm hands. “Because… it will be the best one ever, I promise,” she whispers, her tongue reaching out to circle around my cock-head. Oh Jeeeezus. It isn’t real, but everything about it is as real as real, from the liquid velvet texture of her tongue to the little slurping sounds as she draws me inside, swirling hot saliva around and around. She slides me out, planting full-lipped kisses up and down the length of me. “Oh God, your cock!” she cries wetly. “It’s so… I need it, I need it!” And suddenly I’m back inside, feeling her begin to suck in earnest. I grab a clump of her dark hair and pull slightly, and her eyes widen in panic, like she thinks I’m going to make her stop. “You can’t get enough of this, can you?” I ask, and she shakes her head vigorously, a strange mewing sound added to her sucking. I can see the need in her eyes, like she’s driven in ways she can’t even understand. She desperately needs my cum, and I’m getting a blowjob unlike any I ever got from Sharon or any other girl. It’s more about her need than my pleasure, like her mouth is being driven by an engine. Seeing this kind of crazed lost insane need is like a tonic — I have the sense that my cock is expanding more than it can in real life, like the more Sharon sucks the bigger I get, and the more the pressure builds, so much, so insanely intense… “Jesus Christ!” I yell as she switches into yet another gear. With frantic muffled crazed screams coming from deep within Sharon’s throat, I can barely breathe as my load is forcefully reverse-catapulted up and out, out of me and into her. I see stars dancing on my eyelids, light flashing with a strobe effect and the sounds of my soul crashing into a thousand pieces. I shudder, gasp, my load vacuumed out and away, and all the while Sharon keeps sucking like she’s become a machine stuck on a suck setting, like there’s nothing left of her but the need to suck and suck and suck… I wake up on my sofa, spurting into my shorts. I’m disoriented, breathless, almost delirious from the force of coming. I lay there panting, thunder cracking as true wakefulness gradually blows through me. Holy fucking shit, what have I stirred up inside my brain? Once I stop panting I have to laugh, because in reality my love life totally sucks. I can’t sleep my life away, and too bad — that’s where the action is, and there I can turn a woman into a pucker-cheeked vacuum, able and willing to suck harder than the harshest reality. I close my eyes, and try to relax, and wonder if I can fall asleep again. And if I can, what girl I might get to fuck next. Interlude — Gina Marie Hurts She had to get out of bed; she just had to. Rising to a sitting position, she swung her legs sideways, and worked to breathe normally. She glanced at the clock — there was still plenty of time to get to her one o’clock appointment, the showing of the Del Monte property. She just had to stop… thinking… about… sex! It had to be some sort of emotional breakdown she was experiencing — never in her life had Gina been overcome with such vivid fantasies, and such overpowering drives. She had awakened early, with three fingers jammed inside her pussy, gasping for air. Shocked, drowsy, she’d slipped her fingers out… and then back in, deeper. She stood, and walked a bit unsteadily to the bathroom, and started from her reflection. The Gina reflected in the mirror looked unfamiliar, her expression like a woman who belonged in an asylum for nymphomaniacs. It was something in the eyes — they were wild, untamed, ravenous. She’d only seen eyes like that once in her life, and they were yellow-green slits because they belonged to a female cat, in heat. With her arms braced on the porcelain sink to support her weight, she shook her head vigorously, like that might rearrange her pupils and recreate the Gina that should be looking back from in the mirror. It didn’t work, and she didn’t think she could keep standing. She slowly collapsed onto the toilet, head in hands. It had all felt so real, so incredibly real. Could it be a memory she’d somehow repressed, resurfacing as a dream in the night? Otherwise, why on earth would she have a sex dream about David Sand? She knew she made him horny back then, back when she called herself Gina Marie. They all got horny over her tits, here in Denver or back there where she’d grown up. She’d caught David staring at her plenty of times, and she might have even deliberately teased him, showing a little extra every now and then just to watch him melt. But she’d never met him in the night, in a negligee, her nipples straining on the porch steps… Had she? She suddenly saw it all again, and her legs spread as if of their own accord, the fingertips of both hands already gliding upon her aching wet need. She saw herself in her parents’ rec room, stripping out of her negligee by candlelight, straddling him on the sofa… “Oh God!” She had to stop this, it was crazy. She’d already Googled him, digging up his information and dialing his number. Only an answering machine, but the sound of his voice had been like gasoline siphoned inside her pussy, and her fingers didn’t hesitate to light a match, flicking and stroking and dabbing and plumbing… She groaned a groan that reverberated on the bathroom walls, her entire body quivering. This just couldn’t be happening; her libido had never been this out of control even during actual sex. But the images were there, and the urges were more than urges. She needed those hands kneading her breasts, and his dick — that dick — sliding against the walls of her pussy. She needed it, she needed it! "I don't need it!" she asserted. But she did. “What’s… the matter with me?” her voice echoed in the small room. “I’m… Oh God, oh no, oh yes, oh fucking yesss…” She would masturbate until she lay exhausted and shaking on the tile floor if she didn’t do something. Like changing a channel, she tried to shut off the thoughts of sex with him. No relief, because her mind skipped right into images of Nicole Dampley, her old high school friend. They’d only touched bases a few times since then — Nicole had gone to Rutgers, and still lived in New Jersey. They didn’t talk now, but they were Facebook friends, so they could reconnect, and meet. Meet and… what? The answer was there, throbbing right at the mouth of her vagina. It was there in the hardness of her nipples, and she could almost taste salty Nicole-sweat on the tip of her tongue. “No!” she shouted at the bathroom ceiling. But she could see Nicole so vividly, all taut with long graceful legs, and between those legs a pussy that might also throb, needing to be touched, and tasted. Gina had experimented with a girl and kind of liked it, but that had been in college. That girl — Dana — hadn’t been as lovely and willowy as Nicole, and Nicole’s boobs were much better, big pillowy tits she could squeeze in her hands. She could just imagine the wet glistening folds of Nicole’s pussy all pink and swollen, waiting, inviting, hungry for her fingers, begging for her tongue. Hadn’t Nicole almost worshipped her back in high school? If only she had touched Nicole’s lips with her fingers, and stared longingly into her brown eyes, her hands gliding down to cup her breasts, fondling and urging. Nicole would have done anything the old Gina Marie asked, she was sure of it. Even that, she knew it. She should have. She could have, but never realized how badly she needed to. Until now. Now… “Oh Nicole,” she exhaled, giving in to the images, seeing herself, tonight, knocking at her old friend’s apartment door. Nicole would answer with a bright smile, and how long would it take to turn that smile into a puckering oval of lust, lips pressed to lips, nipples pressing nipples, fingers exploring, teasing, entering… “Oh God, I need it!” she cried out. “I need him! I need her! I… I need them!” She’d call David Sand again, and Nicole. Whichever one answered first, they would get her first, cramming her huge boobs into them, not taking “no” for an answer. It would mean a flight back east, the earliest flight she could get… “This is crazy!” She gritted her teeth, and willed her hands away from her inner thighs. “I… don’t need… David Sand’s thing!” she gasp-mumbled, staring up at the white ceiling. “I don’t… want… Nicole! I don’t, I don’t…” But she did. One finger for David, and one finger for Nicole, probing, gliding fluidly inside… and I’ve been known to grab a beer and wings there. I'm not sure what that means — it’s like that talk with Millie caused a metaphor from my childhood to be re-awakened. Today I sit at an outdoor table. I come to no conclusions. skimming through whatever I can find about dream guides. I could be hustling for desperately needed cash tomorrow night. and it seems to want me to be a more active participant in my own dreaming. is a distinct possibility. even if I don’t know the exact reasons for traveling. only with the possibility of a totally convincing high-def encounter when I fall asleep. if they cut me loose from the dream project. flirting with her when she takes my order. Which. in circumstances where everything under those orange shorts is mine for the taking. She spoke about a door being opened. As expected. and try to have a better relationship with her. but it will be months before I can test myself again with the after-midnight crowd. and remaining cool even when the best laid plans roll horribly wrong. and a bridge to be crossed. Playing pool helps me to think — it has something to do with gauging angles and probabilities. Lots of new-age crap again. With only a couple of hours before I’m due at the facility. and twice now a woman I feel attraction for has guided me to that realization. or me. perfecting my stroke. I got her name. the inner feminine self that Carl Jung wrote so much about."Oh my God. Nicole! Don't stop. winning a few quarters off of guys whose game is only a fraction as good as they think it is. and a ton of stuff about the anima. though — Bobbi — and I make mental notes about every detail of her anatomy. Isn’t it just a further step in what millions of people do every day. the light body or whatever that can fly around and implant sexual desires into the women populating the dream landscape. But I couldn’t do any of that without first achieving the lucid state. but see the need to do as dream-Sharon said. it’s the late night players who know how to control a cue ball. and I spend an hour at a nearby pool hall. though. I meander around the Inner Harbor on my bike. “You wish” with a fake smile. thinking briefly about how they’d love to get inside of so-and-so’s pants? Everybody fantasizes — at least I assume they do — and this is much the same. going so far as to say. and what does it say when I ended up manipulating my guide into having sex with me this time? Am I almost literally fucking myself in that situation? It’s too convoluted to even think about. I already miss my old routine. soaking up the rain-washed evening air. That’s when I realize what I’m actually doing — collecting data for potential dreams. Sometimes real money sits on the side of the table. Women Panting The air is crisp and clear after the line of severe storms passes. Being parts of my dream. I have this sense that much more is cooking inside than I'm aware of yet. There’s a Hooters restaurant right in the thick of the tourist area. I will. she rolls her eyes in response. or even the destination. David! Oh God. especially when my appetite is geared towards the contents of tight orange shorts. hoping beyond hope that I’ll see Bobbi again. so I leave the pool hall and go back to my computer. and the tension can be thicker than a Baltimore beer gut. If Bobbi feverishly sucks my cock tonight. Where I live. and I’ve spent far too many hours in smoky rooms like this. I fear. don't stop!" Chapter Four — No Pants. Today I see that I’ve missed a key element when it comes to understanding these sex dreams. I enjoy a high stakes game. Very circular. or it. and I go bold for a change. then again. she’ll never know. perhaps tonight. where I’m pretty sure a particular redhead with a firm ass and sleek thighs will serve me. the books say that these women are actually me. and I’ll get to hear her “You wish” transformed into “Oh God. yes!” . I’ve focused solely on me. I don’t know whether this is pathetic or quietly brilliant. too — it’s like a piece of my own psyche has decided to take a certain form and help me out. I’m right. like I’ve already taken the first steps on some kind of inescapable journey. I don’t say one word as they vent their disappointment. Anne’s legs are especially fetching today. even so. thank you Mary Poole.” Stern-assed motherfucker. It’s nervousness about seeing Dr. looks more like a leggy schoolmarm than a fashion model today. Phillips’ turn again. “I lost my focus in the dream and compounded the problem by letting embarrassment trump candor. believe me. and I wonder if it’s a positive sign that they bring me a glass of water. and I’m careful to keep my gaze on the floor after that. I went to the Perth and Honolulu offices this time." I answer evenly. "And I’m not inventing today’s dream. I’d like to know why we should even consider the possibility of keeping you on here. Phillips and Eduardo give me the dreaded stern looks as I’m ushered into the conference room. and work to look appropriately shamed as they go at me hard for neglecting to tell them how I flew into outer space in last night’s dream. it’s Dr. and whether she’d care either way if they sent me packing or let me stay. Don’t tempt us into taking sterner measures. I can’t know for certain. When she’s done venting. and I went on to the other two offices to try to make amends.” “I feel awful for holding back on you. If nothing else. trying to decide how much of that is her own shape. David. The team files in after about ten minutes. “What are you smiling about?” she snaps. and it’s Eduardo who states the obvious: “It would not help your case to invent another lucid dream. beginning my prepared speech. I’ll understand if you want me to leave the program. and study the way her tits project out from her torso. They exchange glances.” Everything comes to a screeching halt.” Anne says. I’d like to tell you the details before you let me go.I look at my watch. her face darkened with anger. but let me tell you about this afternoon’s lucid dream first. but I’d bet anything that Mary is on the other side of the glass. and how much pertains to the bras she wears. nothing left out this time. and you’ve proven yourself talented but untrustworthy. “Sit. I knew it was going to happen. I sneak detail-absorbing glances at her legs. and Anne. As she slaps my ego around. I maintain my calm by continuing my private anatomy memorization. do you understand?” . deciding privately what to do with me. tall heels easing into pantyhose that shimmers nicely. We are not playing around.” I seize the moment. We already know you’ve broken your promise to be forthright with us. I fell asleep at home and achieved the lucid state again. Anne and the others at work. I sit. and he frames my transgression in the simplest of terms: “This entire experiment is based on receiving accurate information from our test subjects.” I’m not surprised when they leave the room. Anne still looks sexy even with today's stern eyebrows and firm lips. and I make a silent vow to turn that scolding face into a mask of sheer animal lust the next time I enter the lucid state. I wonder how she feels about it. It’s time to go. where I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a second asshole reamed into me for lying about last night’s dream. “Let’s begin with last night’s dream. her voice still hard. Every detail. witnessing everything. “I know that. “Tell us what you saw and experienced when you flew into space.” she points to the most uncomfortable chair in the room. David. and the numbers bring a tightening in my stomach. and what is there to do but show up and take the heat? Dr. and then… “This girl… Where did I see her?” I close my eyes. memories of the day’s dream playing lightly through my mind. looking like a fashion model again. the time of day as it appeared on the wall clock and the computer monitor. and I’m staring at her legs when she says. with true elements sandwiched between Sharon’s entrance and a sanitized ending. and Dr. Then it’s on to today’s dream. When I’m done. She’s begun to pace like I’ve seen before.” “Hey. without really intending to. It's a shortened dream that I give them. please. and it’s the stuff about Perth and Honolulu that they care about the most. Only… how could I dream about an actual thing that I’ve never seen?” “We’ve all been exposed to more than the conscious mind remembers. David. and the attempt to fly beyond. because these are photographs of people now. They have me repeat the details of what I saw several times — the fires and soldiers in Perth. they all leave the room again. “That’s it. I eventually recognize a guy that I think I’ve seen at the security desk in the lobby of this building. Phillips urges. the office party in Hawaii. which feels like a positive sign. “Just humor us. The ones on top are all photos or illustrations of satellites. They engage in another argument about what sort of figure Sharon is.” I say.” I begin to flip through the photos quickly. and there’s no way I’m going to admit that I worked to create another sexual conquest while in the lucid state. David. Phillips coughs ashes from his pipe when I describe seeing him out in the hallway arguing with a taller man. “This is the young woman lying on the table in the sleeping chamber from today’s dream. anything and everything I can remember. I stop. They get hung up on the satellite for a while. I sense a shift in the atmosphere when I tell them that I came to this very facility in the dream. not expecting to recognize anything.” Anne smiles reassuringly.” Dr. “Well I’ll be damned. much shorter.” Anne replies. Phillips explains. But I recount the rest of it. Phillips wishes. Phillips instructs.” I say. please. this one. right? We go on. Anne hands me a thick stack of 8 x 10 glossy photographs. Why bother to argue if I’m making it up. hoping to find a hot woman to dream-seduce. and I sit there for a long time. wondering if they’re putting me on. but…” “All the way to the last photo. At about the sixth one. its color and markings. wanting a description of its shape and size. and describe my space trek.I nod. almost an hour. everything. “It was a dream. where I hold back quite a bit of information. “I wasn’t actually up there with a real satellite. I look at each face in turn. any anger long evaporated. “Keep going. When they return. this is the freezing guy in the London office!” I can’t help exclaiming when I see the familiar face. and that I succeeded.” Dr. Tell us if you recognize anything else. “See if you recognize any of these orbiting devices. I thought hard about this throughout the afternoon. from lounging on clouds above my hometown to seeing the satellite. I don’t say that I was looking around for Mary Poole or even Anne. . “His haircut is different here. “Keep scanning the photos. her voice soothing.” “We know. and do as Dr.” Anything quickly shifts to anyone.” Dr. God knows why. And I don’t think I should go all the way with anybody in my sleep tonight should it be possible. I need to ask any anima-type woman what she wants from me. I need to remember that they have a window right into the heart of my brain and body. They give me new instructions — I’m supposed to go satellite hopping now if I come to awareness in my dream state.” “Too much caffeine. and I see enough of her thighs to hope that she appears in my dreams without delay. ironically by breaking the rules. because Nicole nods her head like she understands. “David… Would you like something more to drink?” she asks on the way out. making the woman need me to go down on her.j. I still have a job. because I’m not wearing any pants. I shouldn’t be.” “A Dr. I know there must have been no such plans to begin with. not when every tiny change in my brain or body chemistry can be read and interpreted.s. So they’re going to want me to sleep on the table. her eyes smiling. Looking around. *** The team obviously believes in the second lucid dream when I’m put to “bed” in my high tech p. Anne whirls to fix her gaze on her comrades when I point him out. answering my question without knowing it. and then take any dream sex at a measured pace. “Abusing” the lucid-dreaming state and losing my load in front of a dozen witnesses is not going to play well with these stiffs. Pepper?” I venture. though. Tempting as some of them are. confirming that I’m not even wearing shoes. meaning I’ve evolved the direction of their research.” It’s such a lame excuse — who forgets to put on pants and underwear before leaving the house? I think she’s falling for it. I need to pull my chair closer to the table. Phillips out in the hallway. I feel pretty smug lying there on the sleeping table. or be creative in some other way if I want to get my kicks. um… I must have been in a hurry to get here. but Nicole must know. “With ice. “Anything to eat? This might take a bit of time. I’m not sure how I was able to enter this restaurant with my business uncovered and swinging free. I need to do their work first. no one seems to be staring or upset. but fuck it — mission accomplished. I could go halfway. as usual. getting these flashes of all the pussies that might be available to me tonight. I experience an alarming gap in my memory — I don’t remember how we ended up here together. She nods towards the door and everybody gets up to leave again. and a little hyper. I wiggle my toes. No soda. endeavoring to remember anything I can about the shapes and markings of the satellites I encounter. especially if it’s two nights in a row. so I can at least taste some pussy tonight. but here I am. Better yet. . the tall man arguing with Dr.I only recognize one more.” she smiles. I shouldn’t be thinking about women I might fuck in the night. Did I ask her out. Maybe I’ll just “relate with” any hot babe in my dream. or did she ask me? “Thanks for agreeing to meet me here. but I am.” Eduardo dismisses as the door latches behind them. “Forgot something tonight?” she asks. rather than implanting a narrative where she has to fuck me half to death. I don’t fixate on any one woman. or outright fantasize about what I’d like to do. “I. I’ll have to practice restraint. ” she whispers. and it’s all smoothed into an even better looking woman than the teen I knew back then. “David. if I know you. “Like there could be any other outcome whenever we touch each other. I’m surprised that Nicole knows about the dream research at all. Heartbeat rising. It occurs to me then — how do I know that Nicole isn’t like me? As far as I know. “That’s kind of up to you. and my eyes sweep down to what I can see of her body. Can cats climb trees?” I get her point. isn’t it?” . “If I know you. Not so much that her physique has lost its curves. touching one of her knees. Again I adjust my chair forward. you don’t have the foggiest idea how much trouble this could stir up. I’m probably wearing seamed stockings. I drink in her lovely features. I’m not surprised that Nicole knows how much her body turns me on — she caught me checking her out a couple of times in classes. “’Back then’ is a deeper concept than you realize. and always have. When did I tell her. because now I have a raging hard-on.” “A cat climbs a tree twice. Is this really happening? The foot moves higher. kind of like Anne’s. “Here’s a question that says something about where we are right now. but she has gracefully pronounced girl-muscles.” I can’t help jerking when I feel a bare foot touch my right shin.This is good — I haven’t even seen Nicole since high school ended. and licks her lips. “You know you have inherent talent. tonight: How much of this do you think you’re doing all by yourself?” I stare at Nicole without comprehension. already altering the orbits of two worlds.” Her foot glides an inch or two up my thigh. and I think I do feel the texture of nylon against my flesh. You’re a rogue comet. and her foot suddenly glides up until it’s planted flat onto my erection. and I think I can see her lips growing more full right in front of my eyes. and I think I love her arms just as much as her full breasts.” she explains. you know. and time has been more than kind to her. “Being desperate for sex can be contagious.” I correct her.” she chides. Nicole is wearing a sleeveless blouse. wonderfully shaped and long. But don’t you think it’s a bit odd that you have the keys to the dream-car every time you fall asleep now?” “It’s only happened twice. but I don’t see how she could know that. You might ignite a woman without even knowing you’ve done it. “Driving your own dreams. She obviously works out a lot. “Doing something twice isn’t the same as being able to do it all the time. and that’s without even being able to see her legs under the table. isn’t it?” she teases. I move my own foot in response. and will I get in trouble for blabbing about it? “Trouble?” she laughs. three.” her thoughts seem to mimic mine. The heart-shaped jaw and high cheekbones are those of an adult now. She sips red wine from a wide glass. It’s only a matter of time. she isn’t wearing anything at all below the waist. and it must be that she sought me out. and that’s all. And after tonight. Actually. “You’re going to get me going if you keep staring at me like that. This girl had the best legs in high school. until it’s resting above my knee. Do you understand what I’m saying? You must go where the bridge leads.” This is an anima figure — no different than Sharon last night. You’ll get what you want anyway.” In here… She means the sleeping chamber. I bring a hand under the table and find the foot and the finely muscled calf attached to it definitely sheathed in fine nylon. half because she’s either talking nonsense. and I don’t know how much more foot action I can take without totally losing it.” “Ultimately. You really are naked. you know that." I groan. I’m going to have to fuck this woman. and come in your dreams.She wiggles her toes and I gasp. and it's all so true.” she says. Sharon's eyes narrow. and I could swear I see a world of sex beaming out of her eyes. Why do these dream women keep going off about… “Oh fuck! I’m dreaming again! You aren’t really Nicole!” “That isn’t entirely true. And there’s no need. and completely vulnerable in here. The doorway is open. or the coming that might be trouble. You have dreams to come. with the team monitoring me even as we speak. chills shooting through me. and now everything can be changed. The snake eats it's own tail.” All this talk about doorways. the bottom of her foot manipulating my hard dick more forcefully. “Trouble is coming. only in a new form. whatever that means to her. though the bridge is wide. “That’s so beautiful. “That’s right. “What do you want from me?” I ask. and she looks completely serious when she answers: "Pennsylvania. feeling myself twitch against her. and I feel two feet on my cock now. seems to be the key. “I get this feeling that you want me to do something in particular. you’ll need to unify the energy of this and this. “There isn’t much time. They’ve changed everything.” she whispers. “I’m talking about the union of this and this. warm nylon gliding up and down my pole. “More trouble to come. with light pouring into darkened cells. with everybody watching? “That’s the one thing you mustn’t do tonight. “I’m talking about a door that’s been opened. And relationship.” she replies. but right here. has to do with Nicole’s foot action on my very excited dick. but it’s good to see that you’re catching on. Coming is trouble.” “W…what on earth are you talking about?” I breathe out. though. or Sophie the night before. Always remember how naked you are in front of them. like my dick has become the meat in a foot sandwich. sooner than you can imagine.” Nicole sounds like she’s been reading Confucius. or speaking in impossible riddles.” "W…where does it lead?" I ask. . See? We’re relating. The only trouble I see coming.” she whispers. “Why… can’t you just come out and say what you mean?” I gasp. half from the rubbing on my cock. and one by one I visit them. and there is a strong pull to be back in the restaurant. any markings. but it's no big deal at all. It’s more like a detailed depiction created by my mind. having nothing to do with flying too far. trying to memorize the details of their design and shapes. and I know I have to do something to shake up this dream. That’s the signaling device in the sleeping chamber. anything that I can later recount to the team. large winged devices positioned above the western part of the continent. It’s totally convincing. I know this isn’t the real post-2/18 Australia below me. “We’re ahead of schedule tonight. or my dream-dick. which is surely connected to the functioning of the real thing. except that her foot-rub on my cock has that part of me going in the opposite direction of being frustrated. I don’t know what the point is. trying to help me begin lucid-dreaming. and I guess I’ve heard enough about current events that the world below reflects that piteous state. What do I do. I’m more than happy to think myself back to the restaurant with Nicole. I see Nicole look up at me. She’s not helping if my readings are supposed to remain calm. and it still amazes me how my light body can move through space as though distance doesn’t even exist. I see several flashes that I recognize as sunlight glinting on metal or other man-made materials. aren’t we?” Nicole winks. and I choose Australia next. or aim desires into Nicole and see if anything changes? In this dream. the pulsing is wrong. My own exquisitely sensitive instrument is only a few foot rubs from blast-off. It's my dick. otherwise I’m going to come in my government pajamas again with the whole team watching. I think about lifting out of my body. my official duties done for the night. “Back so soon?” she questions as I hover above our table. I’m sure. and I find myself high above the earth before I even know that I fully thought about being here. They’re there right now. We are. Maybe I should be amazed to be up here in outer space so suddenly.“Why do Spaniards speak Spanish?” she challenges back with a sly smile. drifting eastward on lazy winds. she blows me a little kiss. “Don’t forget how naked you are. and seeing the disaster brings a feeling of sadness to the dream. and everything to do with Nicole’s stocking-sheathed feet teasing my erection. I hear a siren approaching outside — wait. that version of me still has two silky feet wrapped around his dick. mostly lured by curiosity. I orient myself by seeing the North American continent below. The Australia of this dream looks as distressed as the real place. Scanning the starry vacuum around me. From the open-mouthed expression on “my” face down below. I remind myself. where they are situated in relation to each other. monitoring my body with their exquisitely sensitive instruments.” Nicole reminds me. There should be time for both work and play. I only come across three satellites here. and at the same instant that I think I should take care of my satellite chores. and for the hell of it I decide that I want to be over the Middle East tonight. go back inside that me and risk another pajama accident. with fully half the continent obscured by the smoke of countless fires. . she’s already all over my cock — it’s hardly like she needs additional encouragement. and suddenly it happens. though. Satellites all. I feel myself getting frustrated. It happens effortlessly. It’s a different kind of pull this time. like my light body is in its element. and I’m almost certain that she’s mentally measuring the amount of space beneath our table. all-encompassing. with a set of whopping boobs bouncing through? Nicole glances down. to taste her boobs and her nipples. eat me!” she implores. as wet as can be. What the hell. and I see that her heat has attracted the staring of most of the people in the restaurant. "Waves bringing in the desperate need to feel my tongue on your clitoris. You’re dying to get it on with her. the me up here. except sex with David Sand. right where she would see the other me’s aching erection if she had X-ray vision. though? It’s like she said — she’s the clay. Will Gina Marie just appear. And I want nothing more than to make dreambabes like Nicole wet. just saying the words out loud. She looks half-crazed with the lust.” “Oh David!” she cries out. having a dream woman offering her mind and body to my hormone-driven interventions. Nicole. And awaiting Gina Marie — don’t forget. too!” I feel like she’s leading me in what might be a profound way. “Oh God. It’s all she needs to say — I don’t think I’ve seen an expression of lust more beautiful in my life. “Your pussy will feel no peace until you get my lips are planted on it. I merge back into my other self. which is a new wrinkle. “Oh yes!” she cries. Nothing is hotter than sex with Gina Marie. the one with the dick that can dream-fuck her.” Fuck. opening her arms like she’s presenting herself as a target. yes!” Nicole bellows. we’re taking requests now? Nicole leans her head and upper body back. I feel two hot hands wrap . “I’m wet clay awaiting the sculptor’s skilled hands. This is a surprising evolution of the lucid experience. it will complete some kind of dream circuit.” I have the feeling that if I go back inside my other body. She’s begun to gasp for air." I continue. and you have to get clay wet to manipulate it. but the preview I’m getting of Nicole’s hyper-lust sure does seem to be. and I want it aimed at the other me. there won’t even be a need for the dream to switch for sex to commence. my fingers and my cock entering you.” I declare. “More! Oh please.” “Uh! Oh God. and now she beams her need right into me. the scent of her wet pussy almost like a cloud enveloping our table. “You’re pussy also aches for Gina Marie Hurt’s touch. please. my tongue nibbling your clit. and maybe a new dream will appear where I get that threesome going after all.” she addresses my floating form. Nicole’s eyes are wide and wild. “You need me to eat your pussy. why not the one over there. It’s primal. to grind cunt against cunt. wondering if we can get it on down there. right before diving under the table. and immediately feel the sensation of her silken feet squeezing hard at my cock. or come jigglng through the door of the restaurant? If a door is going to open. “It’s like waves washing into your pussy. Into me. her eyes shut. Fuck them — they aren’t real. Gina Marie wanted Nicole the other night. mouth open. so now Nicole wants to want Gina Marie — it makes as much sense as anything else. looking like she just wants to drink it all in. eat me. more! Give me Gina Marie.“Don’t hold back. “Please!” is all she says. to fuck her with your fingers. like maybe she knows that if I make her horny for Gina Marie. I grasp her thighs tightly. and bury my head between them. watching my brain light up and scratching their heads. and what kinds of crazy shit would appear if everybody in the room had theirs examined? I feel like my story is consistent enough with their readings that I’m covered. Could you tell us what you experienced in this recent dream. and they’re only too happy that I managed to fulfill my satellite chores. while they see me doing it out here in real life. but it helps that I didn’t cream my pants as I slept. Yes. We don’t know why. drinking in her heat… And then I awaken with a gasp. pressing my mouth hard against this boiling cauldron of a pussy I’ve created. inside the sleeping chamber. and she yanks. whether you felt . How beautiful. down between two well-muscled thighs spread wide. without really describing it. I can picture Mary Poole and Dr. I think. “Oh God. the air moist and thick. “David. I want you to think very carefully about something. right at the point when you rejoined your other dream body?” “Like…” “Your emotional state. Suess book. pulsing like another ten seconds of dream time would have led to blast-off. Really awaken. if it’s the two of them I’m dream-seducing in my head. Anne monitoring my vital signs. dream sex can be napalm hot. I have no choice but to go down. Almost like getting a glimpse of the future. I conclude with the joining of my two dream bodies in the restaurant. No one chuckles or even raises an eyebrow at the foot-play stuff — it was a dream.around my cock. what you were thinking when you saw the other you again. when Anne mentions. not a science journal. I can taste Nicole already. For some reason the very first thing I think of is Mary Poole. Twice now we’ve seen a surprising spike in brain activity when you return to the scene you left behind. “Do me!” she snaps. It isn’t that I practice anything like full disclosure. *** The debriefing in the conference room runs smoothly this time. the unusual light show happening inside my head. I describe everything I remember about the orbiting thingamabobs I scrutinized. her pussy and my tongue on twin missions. pretty sure that a few of them belong in a Dr. hard. happens afterwards. saturated with the smell of drenched pussy. Maybe next time. I only become concerned once. with Nicole deciding to explore the nakedness of my lower half with her feet. and we believe we’ve pinpointed certain physiological markers corresponding to that activity. smiling at the glass as an attendant opens the chamber door. me with no pants on. swiping a deep swipe. I change the content of our actual conversation to reminiscing about high school. But something… unexpected. where Nicole again attacked my privates with her feet. eat me! Eat me now! You have to eat me!” Will they see that the dream has become about pure sex on their monitors? Fuck it. eventually waking me up. I think. invisibly monitoring all there is to be monitored about my brain and body in the adjoining room. gulping in oxygen with my cock swollen hard. You go flying off. I give the team the gist of the dream — Nicole Dampley and me at a restaurant. remembering her questions. It takes some self-discipline to keep from laying it on too thick — no need to appear like a dream boy scout. or if she’s fishing for information. I can tell by the way Anne doesn’t pace that what I’ve described is acceptable. my head scanned by magnetism or soundwaves or whatever. They even want me to fly into outer space now. I want to get to know Mary better. I didn’t know he could do that!” “That’s good. which I could see taking effect right in front of my eyes this time.” I say. a bit breathless. it all worked out. When I’m asked whether I’ve experienced any headaches recently. which becomes uncomfortable. especially when they know I returned to my other body to be the recipient of Nicole’s ongoing foot-job. and turn to see Mary Poole running towards me. “I just wanted to say. She laughs. I can’t tell whether she’s expressing concern. although they do send me down the hall to be poked and prodded by three doctors before calling it a night. and he was smiling. or professional curiosity. besides. Please don’t feel that I… I had to tell them about your space travel last night.” I answer.” “Oh? And what would that be?” “Sex. “I have my own opinion of what you were thinking about when your brain lit up. “Like you said. Fuck me for telling the truth this time.” It’s only a single word spoken softly. There’s no way I’m publicly copping to that — even dream-Nicole agreed with this decision. “I’m glad that everything worked out. “I just don’t know how you do that!” Like before. Eduardo hung out in the control room most of the night. It’s a little later than usual when I finally leave the facility. David.relieved or excited after flying… Anything?” “It’s related to intense concentration. because my answer results in an hour or more inside of a gleaming metal tube. as opposed to the imagined ones. describing in an intentionally abstract way how I experienced a heightened sense of accomplishment and excitement after flying around so easily. it’s hard to be mad at a woman who looks so yummy.” “I see that. What she did is no big deal.” she says.” Eduardo asserts more gruffly. you must see that. I use what Anne just gave me. keeping things light. and I think she can sense me thinking that. but her expression quickly shifts to a more serious look. I mean.” She’s asking for forgiveness.” They’re talking about the time when I grafted a desperate need for my tongue onto Nicole’s pussy.” “I know. They’re very excited.” she begins. like the whole world wants to listen in. I confess that I did have one yesterday. “I’ll try to stop doing it if it bothers you. I feel my heart beating in my chest. “It was weird seeing your head light up again. acutely aware of how nice it feels to be around this real girl. and work to keep my voice level when I ask: “Do the others agree with you?” . twice reminding me about being naked and vulnerable in front of the team. I’m almost at my bike when I hear footsteps behind. but I’d swear the sounds of distant traffic just came to a halt. “We want to know what your thoughts were focused on immediately after your satellite visits. ” “You’ve lost me.” “Think about the satellites you visited.” So Mary is the whiz kid when it comes to interpreting my vital signs. thank God. “Then again. can’t we? Cheerleaders are powerful symbols. Where is the bad. too.” I ignore that one. that you did. I take . “We guys can dream. and intuitive. without remembering. exactly? How do you know I don’t have fun watching your hormone levels shoot up like fireworks?” I’m the one laughing now. What do you know about satellites. One explanation is that you’ve seen photos of that satellite before. I’m not sure. I think it has to do with the collective unconscious.” she jokes. The point is that the others are focused on certain aspects of the research. upset. you should know that. like she practically has my number when it comes to dream sex. I think Mary might be a rebel at heart. “Big boobs and under the table foot-jobs from former high school cheerleaders. I look into her eyes.” “What’s the point of all that. but I think you might have even gotten the position of that particular satellite correct. almost daring her to say more. “That my mind tapped into Joe NASA’s mind while I slept? It sounds kind of like a crock. She’s as smart as she is beautiful. and how we can know many things that we shouldn’t know. “Only I don’t think I know any role-playing call girls. Yet you identified an actual satellite from the other night’s dream — I'm not certain. “Another week of monitoring your dreams and I’ll know the perfect girl to hook you up with. and knowledge gets blended together on wavelengths we don’t or can’t recognize. whether the others know it or not.“The others are fixated on what you observe when you go flying around. Another explanation involves your tapping into a sort of group consciousness in a state of deep sleep — you’d know about that satellite because others know about it. none of them are coming anywhere near the lucid state. which I find additionally attractive. consciously. I see other things. by the nature of my last two dreams?” “None of our other test subjects have dreams as frisky as yours. trying to change the subject. “What do they learn if I pretend teleport to a pretend version of an actual place?” “I’m not entirely sure. They see some things.” “Honestly. and to my eyes the readings don’t lie.” Mary answers.” “Do you believe that?” I ask. huh? That’s what lights up a guy’s brain?” I feel my cheeks redden — come to think of it. and ask: “Is the team… you know. so your dream-satellites should be about as accurate as a child’s stick figure. Maybe you were thinking about sex during the time it glowed.” She smiles. You were thinking about sex right before your brain did its glowing business this time. meaning they aren’t as concerned with others.” “Gotta take the bad with the good. Mary?” I ask. She doesn’t back down. they’ve been doing that a lot lately. or what they look like? You’re no expert. Their dreams are useless until they do. I don’t know. right?” “Oh. Sometimes the words you choose in recounting the dream come from the same part of the mind that did the dreaming. I remember something from the most recent dream that I need help with. like that answered everything. It just isn’t in her nature. Telling the dream to someone can help. “I know a fair amount.” “How do you find the meaning.” “What was she trying to tell me? She speaks English as well as I do — she’s me. how it behaves in dreams and all that?” I’ve intrigued her. if it’s like translating a language that you don’t really know?” “It’s tricky.” I spin.” “I… can’t. where I watched this creepy guy kill an old woman with an ice pick. and I don’t ask.” Mary giggles. given life by your psyche in a particular state of deep sleep. I remember a dream of my own. then. you know a lot about the anima. It’s you. “That’s really a wonderful story. and she has no business saying much of anything directly. as you already know. and takes practice. It wasn’t until I wrote the dream down that I saw it.” “So if she said something like ‘a doorway is open’.” “Which was?” “She said. I didn’t know it then. Dreams will do that all the time. or you might see a pattern in front of your eyes that escaped you before. that ‘bats’ is the mirror of ‘stab’.” . and her mouth crinkles adorably before adding: “It’s complicated. a rather grisly one. and she gave me the weirdest answer. Only she kept talking in riddles — I even asked her why she kept doing that.a deep breath before venturing: “Breakfast? My turn to treat. making these clever riddles. right? How to recognize it. that expects communication in the language you’re most comfortable with. Why? Your footsy girl wasn’t an anima figure.” “Complicated” almost always means “boyfriend”. As she’s turning to leave. and her opinion might be different if I’d given an accurate description of the conversation I had with dream-Nicole. “Mary. or ‘there’s a bridge to be crossed’…” “It would have nothing to do with a literal doorway or a literal bridge. “Anne and the others were talking a lot about the anima yesterday morning. David. There would be a deeper — or at least an indirect — meaning behind the message. I couldn’t figure it out — did he mean to say that he was Batman. ‘Why do Spaniards speak Spanish?’. In her world — your anima’s world — it is the perfect answer.” she says. but I think I was having a lengthy discussion with an anima figure in the dream. your regular mind. “The conversation made me remember a dream I had a few years ago.” It is what I’m thinking. The way that we’re talking right now belongs to the waking world — it isn’t native to the subconscious mind. if that’s what you’re thinking. or shoving the truth right in your face in a way you have to ponder to recognize. because Bats Man just didn’t make any logical sense. Or just writing it down. He turned to me and proclaimed: ‘I’m Bats Man!’ and then ran off. What she’s telling you is that metaphors are also the language she speaks. after all — so why does it come out so convoluted?” “Think of it this way — your anima isn’t a real woman. She’s a personal metaphor. although the others would know much more. followed by a soft. but she just looks down at her feet. heading for home. Mary is in white slacks and a peasant blouse today.” I expect her to respond with something combative or even cruel. and I think I see her physically shudder. She might even be braless. then fasten my chinstrap and accelerate out of the parking lot. and has no problem making it all look sexy as hell.” I say warily. A mistake. Several possibilities flash through my mind: Her dad had a heart attack. because she turns once and waves to me. “About what?” “About… We just need… I just need… We have to talk. Fuck. she’s looking good. “Let me guess. This has to be something really major. Maybe she senses that I’m staring and admiring.” “I’m glad to help. I haven’t seen her in more than a month.” I can’t resist watching as she makes the trek to the employee parking area. “You left something that you just remembered. then merge onto the highway. her face animated in a way I’ve never quite seen before. “Hi. and it pains me how lithe and totally fuckable she looks. too. “I want to make it with that girl for real. She lets out a sudden breathy laugh before turning a fiery gaze on me.” She has her butt leaning on the side of her car. She’s wearing extremely short shorts with running shoes. She groans and looks to the heavens again. about being happy to help. and she suddenly looks to the heavens. *** When I turn onto my block. I give her a little wave back. I end up staring at my feet. probably.“That’s really helpful.” I tell the plastic visor of my helmet. and waits for me to park my bike. because now I have an easy view of her perfect ass as she climbs the stairs. I also know I long for a big wet helping of her. “No. Mary. “Can we talk inside?” Sharon asks in a thin voice. or maybe a visit to the doctor uncovered something horrible.” she says once my helmet is removed. and a plain white T-shirt.” she insists. I’ve heard that the Baltimore Aquarium is having its funding cut by a third — would losing her job put Sharon into an emotional tailspin? I unlock the stairway door. I see a familiar Honda Civic parked in front of my apartment. probably to lessen the useless desire. I’m not okay!” and a shake of the head. and stand aside to let her pass. There are some very good reasons why I miss being with . I’m trying to fathom the implications when Sharon curls out of the driver’s door. Thanks. “Sharon? Are you okay? What’s happened?” Another strange laugh in response. I believe her. “Please let’s go inside. Other than yesterday’s dream. and the word that comes to mind is “hysterical”. oh fuck…” I feel a wave of jealousy rise. and I’m unlocking my door. and learning a whole new set of tricks. Sharon is distraught about something. I’ve missed you so much…” My mouth opens to tell her how much I’ve missed her. “Touch me. even if she's whacked out of her mind and we'll both regret this later. and the swell of her breasts on my ribcage. “We… I should never have said all those things. but she puts her other hand over my mouth to shut me up.” she half-sobs. inviting her inside. Her emotions are out of whack. My back hits the living room wall and I feel her warmth. and I’ve missed that like crazy. then lowered down my legs. where was she hiding this? I didn’t know she could… “Oh God. aimed at some guy I don’t even know. too. a total body merge. With her breasts exposed I go at them. . I don’t know what to do with my hands — wrap them around her? Push her away? What I really want to do is cup her firm ass. her head straddling my chest and left shoulder. I’m hard as hell. This is waking life. “I… made a terrible mistake!” Sharon expels when we reach the landing. what…” I begin to ask. and there is no bra strap impeding their journey. and I’m unconscious on the side of the road? I will myself to float out of my body. and she’s rubbing at it in a frantic. because she’s been practicing. “What’s happened?” “I shouldn’t have… Oh God. Sharon has taken hold of my cock. and when I feel one of her hands worming into the front of my pants. dropping to her knees and sucking my cock into her mouth in one sudden intake of heat and saliva. “Touch me all over!” she demands. I reach down and grab the bottom of her T-shirt. starting with lots of teasing licks. “Now tell me what’s…” All rational thought evaporates as she presses into me. oh my God…” My hands glide up her smooth back. and I'm not going to say no to fucking her again. “Sharon. Only this… Fuck. excited as hell — I mean. but that will pass.Sharon. I feel my pants being unbuttoned. “What was I thinking?” “It’s okay. feel me… Oh my God. She’s practically mauling my dick with one of her hands. and it hurts to be freshly reminded of them like this. Insanely good. I have a sudden chilling thought: Could I be dreaming again? What if I wrecked my motorcycle. but nothing happens. She was always artful when blowing me. I go ahead and do it. like my old girlfriend has been enrolled at BJU.” I soothe. hand on one squeezing and kneading. “Oh Jeez!” I gasp. fumbling way. going at the upper half of my cock a bit at a time. her front to my front. Sharon lets out some kind of bestial cry when I go at her left nipple with my lips. This is… insane. I’m no saint. Sharon! Oh fuck. learning to suck like fuck while we've been apart. tongue lapping at the other. that’s obvious. but this is reality. using her tongue and cheeks gently. Seeing her in my dream was one thing. I’m sure of it. but I stop myself from saying it. “What do you mean?” I ask. Sharon is pretty good at sucking a dick. and quickly peel it away. almost jerking like my floor has electric current running through it. stunned by what she’s doing to me. Fucking actual sex. I turn to leave and she grasps my arm. bodies pressed close. This is crazy. It feels weird. biting her lower lip. closing her eyes tight. the way it would ache every damn day in a perfect world. toppling sideways into a fetal position. the thoughts and images and heat. I feel myself blasting into her mouth. coming hard. Unless it’s just her distraught emotional state fueling her fires. When I think I can do it.My legs begin to tremble. The frothing of the machines and the low hum of customers’ voices faded away. girl?” No she wasn’t okay. depositing her gently on the bed. She clenched her thighs tight. too — she keeps sucking at my dick and her eyes are literally crossed for several seconds. haunting her from the inside. and carry her to the bedroom. and the swirl of saliva in her mouth. fast. gasping or crying or… I’m really not sure what. and brings it down to my cock. Interlude — Dampley Is the New Wet She was halfway through preparing a tall Cinnamon Dolce Latte when she couldn’t keep the images at bay anymore. she appears to have catapulted to an entirely different order of sexuality. beginning to foam with anticipation… Nicole shook her head. comforting her. . She’s getting off with me. and we have to deal with each other under more normal circumstances? We lie there for a good while. her hissing steaming pussy. with Sharon again! She always looked as hot as burning coals. I’m… happy — I mean. and I can’t be cold to her at a time like this. smothering me with wetness and stroking. I relent. and we’re… Oh holy shit she’s good. I slump down beside her. Especially when she pools saliva all over the palm of her right hand. But now that we aren’t together. trying desperately to keep from leaning against the counter to stroke her privates with its hard edge. They were here. masturbating the need away before coming in to work. it hardly feels like the end of something. My rod aches — aches good. pulling me to her. lying beside my ex-girlfriend on the bed. the gnawing need flooding back in. She thought she'd gotten hold of the urges. I pick her up. this is crazy! she told herself. even if we did end badly. “Nicole? You okay. joining her. and her heart pumping heat to her vagina. replaced by her own shallow breathing. and she was a good lover. and I run my fingers through her hair. Sharon’s hand-action between her legs has her detonating. She moans as she sucks. She looks thunderstruck. But it was back. I’ve never seen Sharon so needy. so fucking good! “Oh Sharon!” I choke out as it all comes together inside. But she's shaking. End? With our hearts pounding together. and I see that both of her hands have gone between her legs. feeling it all the way into my tingling fingers. kind of comforting her. the wonderful terrible wet heat. kind of delirious after having my rod so expertly drained. Sharon’s breathy gibberish eventually sorting itself out into a repetitive. holding her close. how can I not be after getting a humjob like that? But how am I going to feel when Sharon’s current crisis — whatever it is — passes. and suddenly lets go of me. “Ohgod ohgod ohgod ohgod…” I know that we’re going to have to transition from the glow of after-sex to a discussion of whatever has happened in her life. she could almost think.rolling into her in disorienting waves. Bowens ordered. She could see them. okay?” She almost wanted to cry — hadn’t she been trying to come to grips since awakening in the night? The visions of her old pal. what’s up?” Fuck. was staring. but how did you admit that to anybody. “I’m… having some sort of…” she tried to tell her boss. Psychotic episode? Hormonal attack? Vaginal power play? It felt like her pussy could heat up and froth the drinks all by itself. very long and workout shapely. She could feel her nipples aching beneath the green apron. the new girl. especially your boss? “Take a ten minute break. Glancing sideways. achy needy pressure gathering between her legs… “Ohhh yesss…” she hissed out loud. Charlene had small breasts. she was still behind the counter. "Oh yes! Yes!" “Nicole? Nicole. and not let her hands creep down between her thighs. the creamy thighs. but she was blonde and well put together like Gina. It would be hot as blazes inside. Behind the wheel. taking the half-prepared concoction from her hand. understand? You’re a good girl. a boiling hot tsunami with the epicenter somehow in her nipples and pussy all at the same time. not out here. not falling to her knees on the blacktop. a sudden rush of heat almost bringing her to her knees. followed her out of her dreams like a tidal wave. spreading wide open to allow access. she saw that Charlene. She needed to get off again. ”Come back focused or don’t come back at all. and not very private… It was hell making the short trek — that wasn’t sweat dampening her panties. not where everybody would see how crazed and fucking desperate she was. Charlene had a pussy — did all pussies taste roughly the same. She removed her apron. the manager. twisting and hissing.” Mr. and tickling at her right thigh. smeared and shiny with David's stuff. She shifted her stance. trying to tease it and not tease it and somehow satisfy it all at once. so whatever it is. I’ll bet it’s so special!” “Nicole? What’s up?” She pictured Gina’s thighs. ignoring the stares of her coworkers and the customers. Only she didn’t know what to call it. like the size of her boobs indicated a particular flavor? A special flavor. And sometime this evening… “Oh my God!” she cried out. and that quiet photo nerd. or would Gina’s be extra-special. we all know that. pinching her nipples. indoors. “Nicole! Go!” “What?” Oh. and she knew that some of the customers would be looking at them. The hot tide was easing out momentarily. almost . she unbuttoned the front of her shirt. She had to keep it together. David Sand. marching into the bright morning light. “Oh God. desperately. rubbing her thighs together even tighter. glistening or even smeared. She had great legs. Gina Marie. come to grips. but where? Her car. and a big thick David dick tunneling deep into her… “Uh!” she cried. Needing it harder. Gina’s tongue flicking at her clit. and let it slide up and down. “I’m not like this! I’d never…” But she was already climbing up from the driver’s seat. oh fuck. awakening in the early morning all… all hopelessly masturbaty. she’d end up having some sort of episode right in front of everybody. Leaning the seat back. up and down. imagining Gina’s lips… No. It wasn’t like the parking lot was crowded. kicking them to the pedals. “Oh God help me!” she pleaded to the windshield. She went to bed wondering if she even wanted to see Gina. A flash of her sweating face in the rearview mirror confirmed that she was totally lost. He would be hard and wide. yes!” . She should go home. but could she even make the drive? Home was only ten minutes away… No. agreeing to meet and not even caring that much about it at first. chilled and hot and so needing to be touched. still herself but in no way the self she used to know. Why had a phone call from her old high school pal caused her body to go berserk? It didn’t happen all at once — it was like some time–delayed detonation. feeling the vehicle rock slightly as the tip of the shifter found her drenched slit. spreading her legs wide to the side to squat into position. she lifted her rear and slid her shorts and underwear down. banging her forehead on the top of the steering wheel. one hand turning the key. and so what if some stranger caught a whiff. enough that she rolled her window partly down for air. wiggling and tickling at her labia. “Yes!” she cried. to full blast. all relentlessly hot. needing it deeper. and she pushed down. “I… I won’t do it!” she insisted. She’d felt up his cock with her feet in the dream and he was a big boy. she knew that. But she already knew her fingers weren’t long enough to serve as stand-ins for his cock. the other squeezing the flesh of her breasts. “Why? Fucking why?” she shouted. She closed her eyes. oh fuck…” It was much as she’d thought it would be — unyielding and hard and wide. so incredibly lubricated. so needing to get off. curling to give her swollen clit a special dab. falling sideways. terrified of the force of her own intentions. The urges were too intense. What if she wrecked. that she felt like she could fuck two stick shifts if they made them that way. The smell of her wetness suddenly filled the car. too. and she wanted him to go at her without yielding. “Oh fuck. “Uh! Oh my God. turning the a.spitting out her lust. What she did know was that there was no way she could last until the evening. and the police wouldn’t let her play with herself? She’d fucking die! She put the car in neutral and set the parking break. she raised herself with her calves.c. Her arm brushed against the leather stick shift… “Oh no!” she declared. both at once!” she gasped. “I’m not going to fuck my fucking car!” she feebly protested. She was so wet. a hard dab. taking her for all she was worth. or saw her finger-fucking herself? So fucking what? She brought her right middle finger between spread legs. She looked at the dashboard clock — still hours and hours before she could get her hands on Gina’s breasts. driving it in deeper. receiving no answers. there was no way she could focus that long. then let her ass sink down. or go back to work. “Why?” she repeated. almost crazy. “I have to go home!” she cried. fighting the urge. David Sand’s tongue… “Oh God. talking too fast and not always making sense. Gina sounded kind of messed up. with more pressure on the front wall of her pussy. It wasn't until she could finally blink open her eyes that she understood how she’d collapsed diagonally. and then we’ll talk.Gathering momentum. Sharon couldn’t help being a turn-on with that honed and flexible body of hers. the outright impossible. “More!’ she demanded of the hard shifter. I lean my head on the fridge. but it’s just another kind of dream. Like a lost soul. she rocked the car. make so much noise during sex. Sharon wraps both arms around my waist. or my horny wishes from the dream world crawled right inside her pussy. “Deeper! I… I need more! Oh God I need them! I fucking need them!” When she came. A whirlwind dose of ex-sex is the last thing I would have imagined happening today. She shouted out her orgasms. I’ve never heard a girl. faster. I’m ecstatic about getting some real sex for a change. which included making sure the neighbors couldn’t hear the box springs squeaking. and sit up. and it turns out that noise is hot. and always the steady drone in her head. sideways and then forward. but disoriented now that it’s fallen into my bed out of the blue. the sound in her ears a monotonous tone even as searing waves of escalating force ripped through her body. squeezing her tits hard. I laugh while scooping coffee — such a thing would be fabulous. and I’m not sure how to deal with it. and she just kept coming. Whatever they are. no. her hands grasping for me. She rocked the shocks. shouting and gushing. pinching.” I have to pry her hands away to leave. and if I had any neighbors up here I don’t even think we’d hear them banging on the walls. Sharon is messed up. “Get some sleep. It’s getting hot enough that our bodies slip-slide in our post-coital grasping. seeing them in her mind and surrendering entirely. Nothing in the way she moves or grunts says lady-like now. “I’m just going to get something to drink. I’m beginning to think that she’s had her heart broken in the weeks since we’ve talked.” I say. trusting her legs. Either that. completely bewildered. abusing herself inside and out. rocked it harder. She utters this weird “bluh!” sound through wet lips. and you have to accept that the impossible does not happen. The fact is that Sharon is here for reasons that will become known when she’s ready to talk. At a certain point I peel her limp arms away. she freed her hands. she drives her whole body down onto me. that’s for sure. especially this girl. Chapter Five — Lust Never Sleeps I don’t know what sort of event precipitated her change of heart. and removed her blouse and bra entirely. but I sure do love fucking my new old girlfriend. sobbed them out again and again. and quickly drifts into a deep satisfied sleep. Sharon and I don’t shake the mattress the way we used to — that was making love. it was like her pussy exploded inside her ears. Kneading. and that her shoulder and back were laying on the horn. The occasional miracle maybe. abusing her nipples. and fucked with her mind. and that my dick is being used to pump self-esteem into her body and soul. In the kitchen. I recall the old lucid dream where I thought my cat might have come back from the dead — at some point what you hope might be true meets the reality of what can actually be true. grunting his name. In the . while this is having the cum pressure-cooked right out my cock. making sounds that I can only interpret as demented enthusiasm. hissing Gina’s name. but she was kind of lady-like during sex. something in Sharon's after-sex look makes me believe that these could be special photos. A door has been opened. with a yellow legal pad and pen in hand. And three. Two. We’re doing great in bed this morning. write down the last few dreams I’ve had. They’ve changed everything. Would that make the newly lighted cells brain cells? If that’s right. It’s usually more of a planned production than this. sitting up and completely naked with her legs spread wide. Looking at these. but that’s this morning.meantime I’m not going to allow myself to feel the hopefulness that comes at the beginning of a new relationship. or even poetic. but where the fuck is any meaning? I think I hear rustling in the other room. but I’m sure I’ve forgotten particular turns of phrase. Fucking Pennsylvania. then. and now everything can be changed. Changed the way my brain lights up? But that isn’t their doing — they don’t seem to know how it happens any more than I do. That sounds so much like what Mary has described. and associating. and grab a glass of ice water for Sharon in case she’s awake. and the cryptic things they’ve said. She’s most definitely awake when I pad back into the bedroom. drill for oil inside Sharon’s hole again before she realizes that she’s compounding her mistakes by coming back to me like this. and focus my Leica on Sharon as I can. “They” again. There is a bridge to be crossed. and now everything can be changed. I try to recall the specifics of the conversations with the women who’ve been helping me. and you can’t do it without help. already altering the orbits of two or three worlds. and unmistakably sleeping after sex. Anyway. Where. trying to go stream of consciousness. what is the everything that can be changed? I keep looking. This morning I just pull a chair next to the bed. with light pouring into darkened cells. then maybe the opened doorway would be like a new way of thinking. Being desperate for sex can be contagious. the others who knows. I can remember all three lucid dreams. In no time at all I have potential messages in front of me that may or may not have important meanings: A door is open. She’s gorgeous. I try to put my usual way of thinking on a shelf. because I know that we don’t work right as a couple. but good days and one morning of incendiary sex aren’t necessarily enough. I haven’t put any pants or . while squeezing my dick with her feet. Or Mary doesn't. I guess I’m fine with getting a foot-job. does the concern come from that it be my door and not theirs? Who’s they? The dream team? They’ve changed everything. with my brain lighting up on her monitor. not theirs. forgoing logic for something looser and freer. photograph Sharon sleeping. I had good days with this woman in the past. and it needs to be your door. with reflecting umbrellas set to bounce some fill light into shadow areas. The first thing that strikes me is the bit about light pouring into darkened cells. I start with the photos. How much of this do you think you’re doing all by yourself? You’re a rogue comet. Though the light is more random than I’d normally want. Rather than writing down an event-by-event replay of each dream. inner thighs glistening with sweat and the evidence of our sex. so I take a seat at my kitchen table. Sharon shows no signs of waking up. and that’s when I remember what supposedly lies on the other side of the bridge I must cross: Pennsylvania. Unify the energy of this and this. maybe even the best in the series. Where’s the meaning in that? And dream-Nicole twice proclaimed that I’d have to unite this and this. and I have a homemade tripod with an extending arm that allows me to point my camera straight down onto my sleeping subjects. I decide before finishing my first cup of coffee that there are three things I want to do right now. like Mary Poole suggested. One. then pulling all the way out.underwear on. offering the water. her tongue darting. and we find a rhythm together. moving closer to me. rubbing against her. “Oh yes!” she encourages. my “Ah!” of surprise smothered by aggressive lips. and if I’m supposed to resist out of principle or something. even though she knew how much it turned me on. She stands with her back to me. telling me to hold my position. you know… reasons. I slip inside of her. I can’t help coming to full erection. reaching out to me. resting the glass on my bedside table. upside down. The sensation of our bodies pressed together is so fucking familiar — everything. If her tongue had a few more inches. as though giving a taste of the treats I might expect if I was a good dog. “Maybe you should tell me what’s going on. because her eyes aren’t leaving my dick. Sharon peers into my eyes. until I see that she’s bending even lower. “Oh fuuuck…” I groan. Me. until she’s licking the head of my cock through her spread legs. This is unusual — Sharon was never one to switch gears in mid-fuck. She beckons with a finger. Sharon grunting and gasping. She’s drawing in deep breaths through her nose and before I even know it’s coming. legs spread. and we’re kissing. I push up to where I can go at her tits with my mouth. me driving in and out while I taste her body. I…” she sort of croaks. Every time my cock pops outside of her she lets out a cry. She’s so much more demanding than I remember — it’s like she wants me everywhere. begging for more. is so fucking familiar. like she can’t decide whether she’s more thrilled or panicked that my cock is poised at the gates once again. . Instead her tongue comes out. and then she’s bending forward at the waist. showing off the pink zone where I’m supposed to be. “I… don’t want to talk. and tells me to get on my knees with my torso erect. and I can see that she sees that I’m hard again. “You wouldn’t have come here like this without. pulling at her nipples. going toe to toe. I think she must want me to stand behind her to fuck her from behind. it’s so fucking crazy. She wiggles underneath me. her mouth opening. stroking deep into her. She looks all conflicted. but I do as she says. I’m going to fuck Sharon again. than I am a man without principles. I don’t know what she has in mind. I don’t even know what to call this — yoga-job sounds good — and she only did it with me once before.” I say. Without warning she pushes me up with her arms.” she whispers. “Touch me! Oh please touch me! Everywhere!” There is no going back from this now that we’re both heated up again. and she even finds a way to interlock our feet. feeling myself go in deep. licking at her breasts. “I only want… oh God…” I take the offered hand and she pulls me to her. A wise man would probably just aim and swan-dive on top of a beautiful woman whenever she does that. Oh fuck yes! I think as her head appears between her legs. Having come twice already. “David. I feel good to go like this for a long time. I think Sharon might be able to lick her own pussy in this position. almost folding herself in two. her other hand spreading her labia wide. and she presses the back of my head with her hand. kneading and licking and grinding. I run my hands up her thighs. definitely. from the scent of her body lotion and shampoo to the way she rubs at my lower back with the heels of her hands. and urges me back in. I cup her ass with both hands. She unveiled it early in our relationship.” Sharon takes a couple of quick gulps. but I also want to know what’s happened to make target practice like this possible. becoming assertive inside my mouth. the tip of my cock jammed just inches from her slit. and I think she’s finally going to tell me what’s happened. “Jeeezus. sucking… And then she goes for it. although I figure she’s pulling my leg. and can give hummers like she’s been giving me this morning… Well. I don’t know why. I give that a try now. “They aren’t into one another like that. but Christ — when a girl looks like Sharon. She digs her body into mine. Oh fuck!” It’s like she’s reaching into my balls and inflating them. and all the while Sharon is drawing my cock farther into her mouth.” Yes indeed. She has my attention with that one. making all those wet wild animal sounds like she did before. Amazingly. hard enough that I think I can feel my dick stretching. and I come furiously. all inverted and super-deep. wanting to be held. and it’s like a house built on sand. really goes for it. a beggar like me isn’t going to say or do anything to change things around too quickly. She moans a lot. and I’m certain that I’m in love. more like she’s clutching for dear life than just being close. is he? *** “Uh-oh. taking me in deeper than she’s ever taken me in her mouth before. I lick my fingers wet and stroke her slit. unfolding her and helping to get her flat on her back. We lie there in the morning light. Her school sweater stands out — way out — a firmly bound bundle of boobage jutting and strutting through the glass doors of The Pizza Escape. and her back thuds against the headboard. No. so much faster. I guess I have a girlfriend again. She collapses forward before I can do anything to stop her. her upside-down expression one of upside-down astonishment. “I’ll bet those two can’t wait to grind their hips together. “Wanna bet?” . her folded body shaking enough that the bed vibrates. She’s flanked by two lesser lovelies and they’re a noisy group. Gina Marie Hurt style. Why didn’t she ever kick into this gear before? Why did she always hold back? “Sharon!” she pulls out of my throat. Not real love — I know that I don’t have a clue what that’s all about. She keeps sucking. licking. Sharon keeps sucking. she just clutches tighter. I feel a hot wet flood all around my inserted fingers — she’s coming just as hard as I am.” I say. she keeps going faster. I’m not quite sure what to do — Sharon was always fairly quiet after sex. hot and sweaty. swirling wetness in a turbulent hot flood. She ends up in a spread-legged heap on the mattress.Only bad dog David never managed to earn this particular treat again — until today. My fingers are jammed inside her but I’m so stunned that I don’t even know if I’m doing anything with them anymore. here come the boobs. stuck to each other like melted gum.” Sophie comments. nodding at the cheerleaders. don’t stop! You’re… Oh fuck. at least for now. expelling deep gushy breaths with this furious kind of whimpering mixed in. so much better than the other time she did this. and when I try to bring things into the realm of conversation. chirping into cell phones with their sneakers squeaking on the freshly mopped floor. then popping the orgasm out. this is just well deserved anatomical love. whispering. “We should never have broken up…” I don’t reply. and can bend like Sharon. giving me no choice but to explode. It’s… incredible. twisting her mouth all around my tool. that is. with Sharon pressed tight against me. I like the moonlight. then. “Because her mouth is always filled with your dick.” she answers. “Sophie… I can’t understand a word you’re saying when your mouth is full.” “Maybe that’s why you can’t understand your girlfriend. I envision the two blonde bombshells naked — Nicole is taller.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Sophie picks up a slice of her pizza.” It’s like she’s just given me a jolt of electricity with those words. isn’t it?” She bites off a bigger piece of pizza and says something else.” she says. fast. “It’s what you think that’s important. then?” Sophie’s eyes light on Gina Marie and Nicole Dampley. let’s go for a drive. Gina Marie. And my real body… Where is it this time? At home.” I protest. I remember. and Gina Marie is… well.” I hesitate. I envision big tits smushed into even bigger tits.” Sophie beams.” “But none of this is real.” “Where do you want to be? I could just think it and be there in half a second. Something about them feels meaningful. so I don’t have to perform any trained monkey tricks for anybody. to see if I could get some dream-sex going with her. Good when wet is really wet. “You really think they are?” I whisper to Sophie. and what I do I can do in private. and feel my cock hardening. “Dirty?” she laughs. “Ask your girlfriend to clean it with her tongue. silly. and bites off a tiny bit. enjoying some joke together as they pour tanned legs and a mile of cleavage into a neighboring booth. my unconscious mind has taken me right back to The Pizza Escape. I could aim horny thoughts into Sophie. "You aren’t real. “The real stuff for you is on the other side.” “How did you know what I was thinking? And what girlfriend? I don’t have…” “She’s lying right beside you. On the other side. like this is a replay of a replay. wondering if there’s something else I should be doing now that I’m lucid-dreaming again. after all. or dirty.” “I’d like to come with you.” “The other side of what? You keep saying… Oh fuck. There’s something I want to show you. a girl who probably has to struggle to even see her legs. “Too bad these aren’t real mushrooms. but it’s unintelligible. “Now that you’re aware. isn’t it? They’ll be what you want them to be. And since when did Sophie speak so casually about my dick? She always uses the word “penis”. with excellent tits and the best legs in school. “Besides. “That’s what we ended up doing tonight. and lust is really lust. only I have no girlfriend. I’m not at the lab. like any other word is too intimate. I’m dreaming again!” “Ta-da!” For whatever reason.“Which two.” she annunciates after swallowing.” “It’s all real to me. only . I remember what Mary Poole said. She rolls her window partway down. I can feel it.” Sophie advises.” Sophie reads my mind. but it’s not warm either. and her desires are simple enough. because a kid named Tim Freeman first showed it to me. “I’ll enjoy feeling the air whipping through my hair. and I wonder for an instant whether to pay for the pizza or not. The air grows moister and cooler as we pass under a stand of pines. you know.” Sophie says. and the pizza joint is in an uproar behind us. onto a well-maintained dirt track. and understandable for a change. but then she’s me. When I turn the headlights off. only we peel off when we come to a particular curve. She leans in to the group of high school lovelies. Does she hear Freeman and immediately relate to it as “free man”? It isn’t cold outside. getting out of the car. just like she did back . the moon a red-orange ball just clearing a low band of clouds on the eastern horizon. “Come on. and flamed out with a few others. “Don’t be an idiot. I see that my old blue Toyota pickup is right where I parked it that night. “Pretty please?” she asks. When we step out into the cool evening air. fully aware of how her dimples get to me. she is my mind. “I always liked that name. or a piece of it. but all I have to do is wake up and I could get the real thing.Sharon is lying right beside me “on the other side” as Sophie just put it. the stars jump to life above. Gina Marie gives out this goofy kind of gasp.” “But…” She beams a smile at me exactly the way she used to. and Sophie declares: “Can’t wait to see these giant things up close!” She’s full of giggles as we leave. Hell. and grabs hold of Gina Marie’s left boob. “I feel weird pretending that I’m sixteen again. I take a right off of Pleasant Point Highway onto a thin twisting road that leads to a public boat launch. that metaphors are the building blocks of language for a dream creature like this. moving to stand beside the cheerleader table. “You’ll go crazy thinking like that.” I say to Sophie once we’re inside the truck cab. This particular place never had an actual name.” I’m supposed to relate with these dream women. I feel like a sap. so I’m simultaneously the manipulator and the manipulated. wondering if I’m the first guy in history to knowingly cave to a cute and manipulative fragment of his own mind. and then we emerge at a secluded spot beside a little estuary. David. and the keys are in my pocket. let’s go. both the sucker and the suckee. anyway.” I observe. I start the truck. I’m enjoying dream sex just fine. We get up from the table. This is where I’d bring girls back then — I got inside the pants of a couple. “Drive down by the water. instinctively choosing the same roads we drove that night. and leans back to place her feet on the dashboard. although I called it Freeman’s Cove. okay?” I hardly need directing. “Just like it was. Sophie climbs onto the hood of the truck.” Sophie reprimands. “You’ll get more sex than you’ll know what to do with soon enough. I hadn’t remembered until now that Sophie and I did that.” I answer truthfully.” I say. No more questions for now. “What is?” I see it now. I see the swell of her breasts in the sweater. “You’ll need help.” she says. It’s like my attempt to fly to the moon — which I couldn’t even do — would be a piece of cake compared to getting to the other side of that bridge. and I close my eyes. her long hair quivering in the light breeze.” she elbows my ribs. getting used to me contacting her thighs. I knew I’d get something — fingers. Maybe this was the moment back then when I figured we’d hook up for sure. Sophie’s pussy was right beneath my head.” “You can’t just think yourself where that leads.then. I don’t need a bridge. those were real satellites you visited. “That’s real enough. The bridge is enormous.” Is she saying what I think she’s saying? “That isn’t possible. When I look up.” I laugh. “Listen to all the sounds. “I can blink myself anywhere once I know I’m dreaming. and I join her. a towering structure that seems to extend for miles. and then the stars beyond. “I… don’t know.” I correct her. Holy crap. “You know. I adjust myself sideways. “Why won’t you ever give me a fucking straight answer?” I lose my cool. the head-nestling thing on the truck hood. okay?” What she says defuses a bit of my frustration. “Some of them might even be satellites. cock or tongue — inside of her pussy before the night was out. but I can sense that she’s right. “I mean.” “I guess I could go up and see. I felt her warm thighs beneath me. like it just ceases to exist before reaching the other side. “Probably the same thing as right here. “What’s on the other side?” I ask. the occasional flop of a fish breaking the surface. but I see a bridge — a gigantic bridge. It wasn’t there before and it wouldn’t exist in real life. Just rest your head in my lap. with the back of my head right over top of her pussy. “Think you could cross that?” Sophie asks. It was just a . ‘the same thing as right here?’ That makes no sense!” “Relax. nothing to obscure my sight.” she corrects me. taking in all the frogs and crickets. like this was practice for both of us.” I don’t know how.” she answers. stretching out over the water and beyond. too. giggling. but the bridge fades from view in the distance. figuring she’s going to say “Pennsylvania”. and saw her breasts swelling out above. our backs resting on the windshield as engine warmth heats our legs. “I’d forgotten how many stars you can see here. There is no fog tonight. free of gravity… …into an entirely different place. the white satin glowing against the dark backdrop of the night sky.” Although in a strange way. today. She leans forward at the waist. can it? It looks so real — I look so real. “I certainly won’t stop you. I’m still on the truck hood with Sophie. this world coming into being as sleep temporarily strips the other away? I guess I could aim all kinds of sexy stuff into Sharon as she lies there sleeping — I missed out on getting my dream-shag with Sophie. without even jostling my head in her lap. sort of like an on-ramp. and the next thing I know she’s running. So what if it isn’t real — I never got the real thing. I’m starting to think that I should just go ahead and aim lust for my cock into this Sophie. Fuck. I aim into the undersides of her breasts. blinking my eyes open. fingers gently caressing my hair. But wouldn’t it be totally redundant to go after Sharon here when I’m already right there. and now I’m hovering over my own bed. No excuses. Gathering details I confirm that this is right now. naked with my body smeared from sex? I can smell her pussy even here in a dream — maybe I’m close to waking up. and that Sophie and I don’t even talk now. and I feel frustrated. or is awake/sleep an impenetrable barrier. wanting to see her switch from cool and collected dream-guide to ravenous David-devourer. Why run if I can just float and be anywhere? I see her up in the distance. the desires inside of you become overwhelming. but of course I’m not really awake. no delaying this time. indeed. running fast on the dirt road.” she says. “Catch me if you can!” she shouts. and tosses them away. then float out of my body. I just woke up. “You fell asleep for a minute. How the fuck did that happen? It can’t actually be the dream-me peering down at the real me. . I wonder: Can a light body observe the dreamer dreaming itself into existence? Can a dream-me here and the real me there ever have a mutual awareness of each other. she reaches down and pulls both her sweater and undershirt over her head. I don’t know why she’s doing this.” Sophie says.” “I think that was ‘rust’. Sophie slides off the hood of the truck. and consummate what never got consummated. “Here. a bit of that world seeping into this one. I hesitate. she’s anticipated a shift in my mood. running up onto that phantom bridge in the past. but I give chase. racing onto the slope of an elevated roadway. Inspired. I sit up. peering down at myself and Sharon. I’m looking up at the underside of her bra cups now. You need to fuck me tonight. then stop.matter of time. it’s the entrance to that bridge. and you have to have my cock buried deep inside your pussy. “Oh!” I start. banging the fuck out of you. “How could I do that in here without the scene switching?” “You know what they say — lust never sleeps. When my hands and lips touch your nipples. maybe this will inspire you. reaches back and the bra drops away. One second I was there with Sophie. our sweaty bodies interlaced together.” Smooth as silk. Anne pauses at the opened door. and you want to get me in private. my warm-up leg show that Sharon can finish for me You’re beginning to feel a powerful attraction for David Sand. I don’t find Anne or Mary. right in front of her legs. They’re crossed. then fitting her foot back in. I can see that my focusing on her anatomy last night is already paying dividends. These are supposed to be my brain? I compare them — they both have a rainbow of colors. Do I want Anne to strip naked for me? Drool for my cock and need to fuck me? Or what if she melted down and climbed on top of the conference table. because her ankles and calves look completely real. everyday action. with a real live woman waiting for my dick on the other side. . Then again.But I’m not awake yet. I aim between Anne's thighs. It’s simple. and mine aren’t the only eyes leaving the lighted screen to check out her legs in the high heels. as though it’s her pussy I’m addressing. In a blink I’m at the facility. not with Sharon in my bed. thinking about dressing in sexy lingerie and showing off for me. desperately needing to be fucked by every guy in this room? Group scientist sex hardly sounds like a turn-on. seeking dream-pussy. dangling her heel. the pattern looks a hell of a lot like a butterfly. I’m startled when I see my name in the lower left corner of each image. even to me when the brain is mine. and thinking that I just might have to go ahead and dream-fuck her if the sequence plays out. I guess. silky smooth and in every way the kinds of things I might want to rub my dick against. I think for a minute about where I might want to take this. I think about the hot women I know. I decide to keep things simple and mostly teasing. because my dick already feels like it’s hard enough to break off. You know I love to look at your legs. to get dream sex going with Anne the first chance I got. hovering in the conference room. and so I float from office to office. or Mary if she’s here. and remember my little vow last night. Anne’s figure is a hell of a lot more attention-grabbing than slides of brains. Anne uncrosses and re-crosses her legs — it’s an ordinary. and might as well do something fun or constructive while I can. Only the one on the right is much more… What’s the word? Unified. but it gets my heartbeat racing. why not dreamseduce Anne. experience has shown that I can’t predict the exact form the dream will take. I can almost feel the rest of the group — all men — struggling to regain their concentration. He’s showing two maps of a human brain. She takes a seat at the far end of the conference table. besides. but I have a feeling that I got it right. and she’s moving the raised foot. tuning in to in the lecture. I don’t really need to get any dream sex going. like the separate colors have found a way to blend together into a Rorschach-like pattern. You know that doing it will make your pussy boil. until you’re begging for me to fuck you. You get so incredibly hot. Come to think of it. giving some sort of power-point presentation to a group in another conference room. and show off your body. In a heartbeat I’m under the table. like nearly twin brain-shapes side by side on a big screen. get my cock all worked up and then have the real Sharon relieve the pressure? It feels like a brilliant idea — cock-teasing in one world. but I do see Dr. like certain areas of activity have been given their own coding. Another symbol to decipher? The important thing for now is that my target has just entered the darkened room. no others around. Dr. focused on the images. I’m already hard just thinking about it. Phillips in this dream. “They’ll be what you want them to be”. I’m waiting for the rest to come out when she sticks two fingers in my mouth. “The changes are stable. Ready for you to… I’m shocked to feel hot naked flesh pressing into my back. The red laser dot meanders. It’s Sharon. Her lips have parted. because we’re still on the bed. slowly removing her glasses with her eyes burning with desire… In just a few seconds I know it’s useless. I picture her legs in the nylons. Having my dream end right there seems cruel. “We need to unify the energy of this and this!” I quote from my list of nonsense. “Yes! Yes!” Sharon agrees. I ease out of the bed. The hand that was rubbing at her chin has drifted lower. Hot hands touch my shoulders. and speaks. still holding tight to each other. but fast-forwarded a bit to where Anne slowly strips out of her clothes. The image changes to a narrow stone house — more like an elaborate hut at the foot of a rocky hill or small mountain — then shifts again to a much larger whitewashed building. silent as a cat and fragrant as a whorehouse. “Come back to bed!” she insists. Naked flesh? I open my eyes and see a lopsided ceiling above me. Fuck. I notice that Dr. and “The changes are stable. She’s doing her chin-rubbing thing.I float right through the table and hover above. I’m ready. like I’ve somehow left her and me both in a state of suspended wankimation. Halfway to the bed I stop her. encouraging me to go at her for all I’m worth. The general is laser-pointing at a map of northern Pakistan. push hard into her back and bend her over from behind. it’s now “Exactly the same as right here. I glance back at Anne. hoping to drift back into the same dream. Pepper. Thirsty again. After a couple of swigs of Dr. She growls. “I… need…” she sputters. begging me to go as hard and deep as I can. listening intently to the lecture. that was the most fun I’ve ever had at the facility. back in my Baltimore apartment. with a hand pulling at my cock and fingers tickling my balls. attached to a thin necklace. and on the other side of the bridge I’m supposed to cross. Phillips is seated now. looking at her face to see if there are any hints beginning to show. no long-legged strip-tease dream with Dr. Fuck. then swings around the chair to plant herself in my lap. eventually settling upon a particular set of windows. It’s Sharon’s naked body pressing into mine. . talking about advanced surveillance techniques and something called “ultimate stealth”. Things go all sweaty and tit-meaty as she presses close.” she addresses the group. “Brain like a butterfly”. maybe a general from all the stars and medals on his uniform. absently fondling a little gold cross. his place taken by some military dude. jamming my cock into her pussy. I flinch when she suddenly sits straighter. Oh. but David isn’t ready for this” to my list of dream symbol horseshit. I take a moment to add.” I laugh out loud at the absurdity of the contradictions. Anne? I close my eyes. spreading her legs wide. and I think she just might have a far-away look behind the glasses. falling to the floor and raising her rear high into the air. Oh right. and I instantly know that I’m really opening my eyes. and it’s gone. but I’m not convinced that David is ready for this. cock hard. her sandman. and there could be no doubt that she alone had a firm grasp on David’s enormous gifts. Feeling almost shamefully overdressed. screams. Couldn’t they reflect for a moment that without David’s exceptional talents. jamming my dick in where it’s never gone before. besides extremely exciting. He was an innocent fish surrounded by teeming sharks. not in the classic sense. She was the only woman in a sea of receding hairlines and type-A personalities. and there were concerns that it could take years to duplicate the results in other test subjects. what was she thinking? Care for his interests. Nevertheless. He didn’t know it. She’s eating it up. She smiled as that thought eased through her body. begging for more. I mean I just fucking go at her with everything. with these thick-headed fools pushing so hard… Considering his basic psychological profile. no nothing. Curvy. It was impossible to underestimate the magnitude of the breakthrough — this was Western science treading in the realm of Eastern mysticism. was jumping the gun. she couldn’t really see David being pleased with the identity of his masters. She could understand the need to keep David in the dark for the purity of the research. Interlude — Lingerie Becomes Her It only took a few minutes into the interagency meeting for her concerns about David Sand to spread wider. but holds her position. she will. David couldn’t be hurt in the field. because Sharon flips around. beyond his usefulness to her personal research and the entire intelligence community. no problem. and re-crossed her legs below. and the only trouble I can see is that I can’t come twice in a row nonstop. He was their star. perhaps. and the sharks were consumed by their desire to move the program forward at an accelerated pace. either. the program’s only successful dreamer to this point. however. doing more to thrill her in his sleep than this whole room could manage when awake. just when the budgetary sex was poised to… budgetary ax was poised to fall. Easy on the eyes. and she’s sucking her juices and my leftovers down her throat. I know. They wouldn’t. yet never proven nor observed. I think she wants to suck me off again. Trouble is coming and coming is trouble. and she felt the need to strip for his interests. certified pompous asshole. but David had saved her firm ass by validating her research. Which would be a difficult task. I come. Wait. It went beyond his ideal thought-signature. warming her from head to toe. because they were blind to his overall charms. slamming all my weight down. which emboldened the military types. there wouldn’t even be a program to move forward? David Sand. Sharon whoops. no bonus. given the atmosphere in the darkened room. He could feel emotional stress. General Thompkins. Anne studied each serious face around the conference table. No one had proposed a pay raise for David. before the day is done.I pile-drive her. Feeling like the room was too hot. She objected… and knew before her second sentence that any dissention was falling on deaf ears. there could be no doubt that they had created a functioning light body. and they . a speed-of-thought entity partially able to bridge the separation between the dream state and the world of conscious reality. someone had to foresight to stroke his ego for helping to advance their research. David was… She wasn’t quite sure what he was. taking it and more. Restless in her chair. Unless. but now. aiding in the formation of energies long rumored in exotic esoteric practices. Anne uncrossed her lovely legs and brought them back together with a little extra oomph. Perhaps it was more important to think about what she was. Not all of the subtle alterations to his subconscious functioning were understood. proposing to send David’s light body into immediate fieldwork in one of the most dangerous regions on the planet. patiently. garters and sexy stockings with her tallest heels and a warm feather duster to tickle his fancy. Something was definitely wrong. or her body on his mind. but felt a stab of fear inside. That thought disturbed her to no end. Point. she would never. but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She giggled. Impossible. drawing the attention of Eduardo to her left. and the funding of the entire program was now being filtered through the Pentagon’s black budget.still had so little data. It didn’t hurt anything if the kid couldn’t keep himself from staring at her scrumptious legs. In some ways what they observed on their monitors was no different. She was a svelte and sexy woman in a world of alpha males. She thought of poor David and felt her thighs… no. or hand job her resignation. what was the matter with her? She wasn’t thinking clearly and it was hard sitting still. She was just entering her sexual prime. Anne removed her glasses. too. and objectification came with the territory. it sometimes looked as though his glands were absolutely engorged with energy. hardly a kid. Something was very wrong here. one she should have seen before: She could reward David herself. She wasn’t naïve — hell. Kid? David was only eight years her junior. and there were any number of unknown factors when stimulating an organ as complex and sensuous as the human brain. she'd flirted with Eduardo when she had to just to get the program off the ground.. set. wait. in and out. satin or nylon. but she just couldn’t wrap her . thinking about that. Perhaps it was the appearance of a third option. and they were plunging ahead whether anyone understood the readings or not. but the military wanted intelligence on a grand alliance of another nature in Pakistan. She blinked as the idea grew fatter and longer with every breath. A nagging feeling teased at the back of her head and ran down her spine. but her looks were part of her power game. On the monitors. but in other ways it was revolutionary. She would definitely not resign. They were seeing increased cooperation between both hemispheres and all the glands of the body… She squirmed in her seat. Anne?” She nodded. More importantly. Or… possibly not… In certain circumstances… Her rear wiggled in the chair as she slipped her heel in and out of her shoe.. but almost unbelievably rousing for anyone interested in the effects of the mind on the body. arranged for the benefit of the entire organism as a whole. her eyes… Dammit. Every organ — even specific parts of an organ like the brain — had its own function. Under the circumstances she only had two options: Fall in line. absently fondling the frame. she’d always known that. Such a thing needed to be studied. She felt like decking out her juicy figure in leather and lace. in and out. Her assistant described it as “a grand alliance of formerly disparate interests” — dry language. “Are you all right. wasn’t she? She felt like a prime cut. David did like to look at her — she’d been a bit annoyed at first. match — money talked far louder than the concerns she had raised in previous meetings. they needed David’s trust — they were trying to understand a form of energy that only he could navigate. and she was far from being too uptight to contemplate stimulating a younger man. like entirely new brain/brain brain/body alliances were in the process of formation. Ridiculous. and insufficient understanding of the data already collected. Immature and totally self-indulgent. she never had… But then she’d never had a young man do so much to excite her research. Alone where? A room somewhere in this very building? Too may cameras. a professional problem-solver. She shut her eyes and tried to focus on sexy little outfits. She could see that it wasn’t going to work to continue sitting here. Some bushes in a park? The brambles would tear her nylons. this time heating with shame. . She was a scientist. Too many facts and figures. “Anne? Is something wrong?” She puckered her chewy lips shut. Her heart quickened. Like she would ever put on a velvet bustier or a cutesy school girl outfit to tease him hard. determined not to blurt out the horror of her realization. Was she an actual lingerie enthusiast? She’d never thought of herself that way. Her car? No room to move. They wouldn’t understand. Well. She barely even had any outfits! Some fetishist she was — she had a couple of camisoles. It was unknown territory. trying to get everything back under control. and thought she should cry out… She shifted in her seat again. and something wasn’t adding up. something was definitely wrong.” she mumbled. and yet… She began to chew on her lower lip. experiencing a moment of realization. pretending to care about acquisitions and terror cells cooperating with rogue intelligence agents. Away from prying eyes. images tickling at her insides. totally alone. Hopeful lecherous fart. too little attention to purchasing pleasure garments that flattered her fabulous figure. would they — they were all men. Wait. She could feel her nipples rising in her bra. She should probably keep her options open on anything that might or might not happen after she got David somewhere alone. and a few would be envious as hell if she hiked her skirt for David to peer under. wasn’t it. picturing a suite with plenty of room to strut and show her stuff. Martin would object. No point in letting the group know how much she’d love to dress up and watch that butterfly pattern in David’s brain begin to quiver with excitement. not to the outfits or her need to wear them. Although it wasn’t like she would actually bring David home and dress for him. She needed to acquire some rogue underthings that could terrorize David Sand’s newly lighted brain cells completely stiff. and Martin had given her a red teddy for Valentine’s Day. the contradictions eating her out. “What about a hotel?” Eduardo asked. leaning too close. away from protocols and memos and hidden cameras and a culture of meddling with every little thing that a long-legged lingerie enthusiast might need. Most likely.legs around it. but to the rest of it. or only working so hard that she’d forgotten how much David needed to be rewarded? She rubbed her glasses hard. probably. There could be no doubt that she needed to deck her curvy body in seductive underthings and skimpy naughty outfits… “Oh!” she breathed out. What had she been thinking? Had she been thinking. no French maid attire. just like David’s readings and the gnawing needs she felt blooming inside. no gartered lace bustier or nipple-y nurse’s outfit… She definitely felt her thighs reddening. She’d have to get him alone. That would be cheating and she didn’t… Well. “Maybe a hotel. Not nearly enough. and still public. any fucking thing to make it through this flight without baring her breasts and parading in the aisle. “I’ll find ways to thank him. and they would. driving the seam hard against her and feeling her moisture spot right through. She’d been drugged. pressing hard on the denim of her jeans. “I… have to go…” “Go where?” Eduardo asked. or what made them wet.” she said to no one in particular. pushing them into even higher mountains. makes a woman realize for the first time how alive her pussy can feel. leaning in close again. rising from her chair. A geyser was natural. giving everybody a good long look. it had to be either Nicole… "Oh my God. Nicole and David. managing to apologize and be all pretend-embarrassed and keep her tits covered because she had even greater needs. show the whole world just how magnificent her tits were. two ultimate goals. She’d do anything. anxious to go down down down. but if they locked her up how would she be able to make it to New Jersey to shove her pussy in Nicole’s face and lick her tits and find David Sand and fuck him and feel his hands squeezing her tits and fuck him and keep fucking him? Such a narrow escape. She didn’t bother to answer.” she spoke to her clicking heels. Gina brought her teasing hands from under the magazine and hugged her breasts. oh yes fucking and fucking David… She would show them. or possessed. either — he could be a natural. arching her back to let them bulge and sway so that everyone could marvel at the magnificence of her tits. one for each incredible breast. chewing her fingernails. and lowered her head to prevent a hallway camera from capturing her grin of satisfaction. she needed them to see. until she would… . she’d always known that but now she wanted everyone to see. She could feel their eyes on her smoking legs as she left the room.“Oh yes. though. David might not know. It wasn’t like she had bombs under her shirt but they detained her briefly and threatened her with arrest. or some devil somewhere had a voodoo doll with oversized boobs and they were holding a cigarette lighter between its thighs and whispering into its ear to strip out of her blouse and bra and show everybody. beginning to rush to the bank of elevators. Men didn’t know a fucking thing about women. feeling like one of those geysers where the heat and pressure keep building inside in unending rhythms of blowing and briefly ebbing until she had to blow again. wiggling her legs. no no no. They were so fucking beautiful. But she couldn’t do it in a place like this. The portly businessman in the aisle seat kept peeking at her boobs and it made her boiling blood boil even more. Nicole!" Or… it was probably David… fucking David. She leaned her head against the window and willed the plane to go faster. one of those guys who makes a woman need to slink in ridiculously tall heels. Interlude — Tits On a Plane Keeping it together in her narrow seat was a nightmare. She kept trying to fight the urges. wanting to tear her blouse and bra off and stand in the aisle. and this wasn’t natural. she’d already come so close to being arrested in the airport while standing in line and pulling her blouse over her head. and they would… She would… Oh my God she would. did they? Didn’t know what made them tick. placing a magazine on her lap and surreptitiously fingering her aching slit underneath. corralling their weight with her arms. squeezing her thighs tight together. tits enveloping tits. hadn’t she? She’d fingered herself and come. eyes locked onto her cleavage. with her fingers creeping under the bottom of her blouse and beginning to raise it. oh God. “I… can’t…” she tried to choke out.” she thumped her forehead against the window. making her hips buck. and when she blew David off… “Uh! Uh!” It was like the thoughts turned into a kicking mule inside her pussy. or shouldn’t be. everyone always drooled over them and she needed them to want to see them. ate at logic and willpower and what was she supposed to fucking do? Her common sense knew the answer but the vortex rolled her common sense into a cock-like tube and stuffed it inside her opening until her knees buckled and she was gasping for breath. shocked by whatever she’d said but with his wide eyes like magnets pulling at her chest. He might even be staring more with her eyes closed. I do want everyone to see my boobs!” she vented. They all wanted to see her tits. her burning vortex cunt swallowing David whole and swallowing Nicole's hole… “I’m… I’m not even fucking gay!” Gina tried to convince the oval window. that’s what. touching. and past him on the other side of the aisle two older women were staring with their eyes bugging out. oh God. The guy looked like he was ready burst. and called Nicole and talked and come. are you okay?” the clueless tit-obsessed guy asked. but then she shouldn’t have blown off all her appointments.” she whispered. like if she said it enough she might come to believe in such an impossible thing. “Afraid of flying?” the guy in the next seat asked. It ate at her sanity. yes. her fabulous boobs bulging in her huge teal-colored bra. The guy leaned back. doesn’t want to see. and rubbed warm lotion all over her slit and clit and she’d teased her pussy and abused her pussy and practically stir-fried her pussy and she’d come and come and come and it was never ever enough! She’d called David and come. wet gliding over wet. Everyone wanted to see her tits and she could feel the man just inches away.“Oh God. Oh God.” she kept mumbling. How could it not make sense to want to flash her boobs when what she wanted even more wasn’t there to put a cap on her geyser? “Oh God. “Doesn’t want to see. her breath like hot steam. It ate reason and wouldn’t take no for a fucking answer and she’d done everything she could think of. and used her dildo and come. unsure if that was true or not true. “I’m… not even making sense. trying not to crash and burn. Gina had her blouse bunched under her neck. She wasn’t. oh God she needed to be touched. squeezing her boobs hard through the cotton top. and now she was forty minutes from touching down. . wildly flailing. Fucking boob-drooling idiot pretending not to be. like he could do it all he wanted to now because he could get away with it. or she just needed to show them even when she knew she shouldn’t want to whether everyone wanted to see them or not. She clamped her eyes shut and made herself believe that he didn’t even want to see her tits. Nicole’s lips on her slit. What was she afraid of? The vortex between her legs. shouldn’t be flying to fucking New Jersey… Blown off. “Hey. But she had to stop her hands from doing what they were doing. begging for more banging. saw two flight attendants leaning towards her. eat and drill. banging her against the narrow walls. and when . for what she’d abandoned her appointments and probably abandoned her whole fucking job for! They couldn’t. you can’t…” She blinked her eyes open. gyrating slowly at the hips. and still coughing up recession/depression phlegm. heads turned to the back to gawk at her desperate thighs and huge power-cleaning boobs. eat pussy and drill meat. David’s thing slamming inside. warring. pulling at them and imagining Nicole’s wet tongue here. gushing and rushing for the rear lavatory. rioting. and that hasn’t changed. making her scream and wail. the door was locked and she rocked and sweated. sucked hard with her hot lips all over her aching nipples. locking the door and peeling away the horrible clinging blouse. People were staring… Oh God they were staring and some wondered what was the matter and most wondered if she had the best boobs ever and she could feel another geyser eruption creeping up on her from inside. making it beg… “Ma’am? Ma’am. especially after months of being shipwrecked on Right Hand Island.She shut her eyes again. and David Sand’s fat cock down there. she yanked her shirt back down with a growl and crawled over the man to her right. The door finally opened and she shoved past the little girl who came out. She had to stop or they’d stop her and she’d… Red in the face. unhooking her bra and letting her bounteous beauties swing free. her huge chest fucking cleaning the door. She tried not to see all the heads turned her way. For many — and unfortunately I’m no exception — the future doesn’t look like it has much of a future. another of the mind-wrenching blowouts that made her gush and sent daggers through her body and turned her pussy into a fucking sopping plaything but didn’t stop the fucking heat! She had to wait. detain her. I’m still a lost soul in a world that’s becoming more like a ball of broken promises each day. she’d die if they did. It isn’t like the blurriness of my life has suddenly become clear — I still don’t know if I’ll be in school in the fall. making it leak. On the other hand. making her want to fall or fly or crawl to him again and again. I guess a boatload of sex can do that for you. but living through it begins to look a little less daunting. pussy half-ready to explode with her tits screaming at her from the inside to set them free. melting. feeling the waves of excruciating excitement passing through her pussy. delay her from what she’d been clawing and oozing for. if she kept going… “Oh God no!” They couldn’t arrest her. She let her knees bend. Beyond my narrow concerns the world at large is burning. who cares? Even after showering this evening. sex continues to permeate my nostrils. tits pressed hard to the door. One was a woman and one was a guy and didn’t they fucking understand that she fucking knew she couldn’t bare her boobs but she had to anyway? Only if she did. and a smile on its face tends to bring a smile to my face. another debilitating orgasm. tried to wipe away the awareness of how so many passengers were leaning into the aisles. eat and drill… Chapter Six — Float Like a Butterfly I feel like a changed man when I climb on my bike to head for work. begging for her pussy to be eaten and drilled. All that unfigured-out stuff is still there. or what I’ll do for money once the dream gig ends. just banging her and fucking banging her without stop. my dick is happy. but now my response can be: Whatever. free to be pinched and fondled and cradled and hefted. nipples wiping it hard. and Mary obviously sees me. Sharon’s cum-crazed enthusiasm as effective an aphrodisiac as I've ever experienced. I don’t know how many times I can get off in a single day — it’s the kind of thing you learn through doing it. I laugh at the fantasy. unless I’ve completely lost the ability to distinguish the real from the unreal. Her mouth told me it was for scrambled eggs and bacon. but it’s the smile that’s telling me that everything is okay. I don’t want to be a sucker like that. Anne wears a shiny satin bustier under her lab coat. obviously. not unless Walt Disney has entered my life in triple-X form. nor real-Sharon be compelled to behave like dream-Sharon. I'm not comfortable with too-coincidental coincidences. but that means I’m beginning to believe in the impossible. Several times I’ve wondered if I could still be dreaming. and look at what’s happened to the world. She was kind of out of it and still horny when I had to leave. “I’m definitely intercepting you for your dream talents this evening. and just enjoy my dick aching the way a dick ought to ache. That would be… unfortunate. billions believe in a loving God who listens to prayers. As I approach. And why not when life teaches that excessive hope leads to excessive disappointment? I mean. and I’m pleased to see that Mary’s car is not yet here. Her smile alone could make her the kind of girl an actual stalker might glom onto.” I admit. and the impossible belongs to the dream world. hoping to intentionally-accidentally bump into an unattainable crush-cutie and carry her books to class.” “Mary Freud Poole to the rescue. I feel a bit like a love-struck teen. I know I’m awake. but I guess I’m even more of a die-hard skeptic about anything approaching the supernatural. Sharon made it abundantly clear that I will be getting more of that — pussy — and that it will be hers. Sitting on my bike as the evening shadows grow longer. to see if you can help me unravel a riddle. I love this unexpected turn of events – who wouldn’t — but it’s been creating disorienting thoughts. I wondered if I could run it by you. consisting of dropping in at Sharon’s apartment first thing tomorrow.the scent of pussy haunts your world. for the first time in months I have an actual date lined up. and draws me into a private room to model damp and fragrant peek-a-boo panties before begging me to fuck the living science out of her bones. Anyway. huh? Did you lucid dream?” . but a predatory fixation on the bulge in my jeans said spread lips with hard sausage. and no girl I’ve done it with was ever inclined to challenge my counting skills. It’s still light when I pull into the LDSP’s guest parking area — I’ve deliberately arrived early. Anyway. right after I wished upon a cunt and my wishes all came true. because Sharon’s enthusiasm for my cock is so similar to what I wanted to lucid-dream with her that it feels anti-coincidental. at least the bad smells like pussy. I’m not dreaming now. getting out of her car and standing beside it. I don’t have to wait very long. life is good. unwilling to keep her hands off my dick when I walked her down to the street. Mary is wearing a clingy pullover blouse with a fairly short skirt and sandals this evening. but also leaving when she was so ready to be plumbed again. too. and she looks fabulous. It was hard — my dick. so I’ll believe that dream lust leads to real sex just as soon as Dr. if it isn’t good. Or. “Should I feel stalked?” she asks as I draw near. “I had this intense dream at home today. the dream-butterfly I saw in my head today feels like it’s suddenly had offspring that have flown into my stomach. my Honda’s engine purring between my legs. Dream-Sharon could not become real-Sharon. We’d done it something like five or six times already. and it’s driving me crazy. not until today. ” She looks at her watch. Think about it — what is Pennsylvania?” I see Philadelphia and Amish people. because I’m firing blanks and I know it. which was: ‘Probably the same thing that’s right here’. “If it’s not too long. I can’t think of many dreams I’ve heard of where an archetype was so directly responsive. I try listening to the word in my head. That’s it — something about your state has to be a certain way for you to have a chance of making a necessary transition. it’s Pennsylvania. her blue eyes seeming to peer inward.” Mary offers.” As soon as I hear it. but…” “It isn’t to me. front and back and maybe even drilling from one side to the other. you know. if that’s what she is. They don’t always answer a direct question. “Some kind of life change is being indicated with the bridge symbol. I know that she’s right. “It’s another state.” “Is that a good thing?” “Some women would say that it’s a very good thing.” Mary comments. I asked what lies on the other side. lifting it up and stretching it out.” “Pennsylvania?” “So you can see why I’m baffled. “That’s brilliant. Gettysburg and mountains with coal. I suppose we could give it a try. “I think she’s telling you that the bridge leads to another state of mind. You’re brilliant!” . like Transylvania. “Then nobody cares but you and me.” “So any ideas on the dream?” She frowns as she sifts through it. She said that on the other side of the bridge. And then when I asked her again.” I lie.” “You’re new at this. A major one. and this is where the confusion comes in. In fact. she gave me a completely different answer. is so cooperative. I'm holding my breath as the butterflies in my stomach all rush down to flap their wings inside my dick. I scan the contours of her body while she isn’t looking — I'd like to get in touch with both of her feminine sides.“Not even close. “The part about Pennsylvania is pretty obvious. She said that I’ll need help to do it. that’s why. I’d guess. or perhaps that you have to reach another state of consciousness to cross it. You must be in touch with your feminine side.” “Okay. just to be sure. I end up shrugging my shoulders.” “Did she answer?” “Sort of. Shoot.” “That’s an important dream. This girl — maybe an anima figure — told me that I have to cross a bridge. like crossing this bridge is almost impossible. briefly closing her eyes. And it’s very positive that your anima. wondering if it’s supposed to sound sort of spooky. and start taking themselves too seriously. I suppose I’m something of a skeptic about love. “I mean it isn’t like it’s out of the realm of possibility. Mary. so I’ll let it slide this time. I’ve never been very good at telling the difference between lust/attraction and love/devotion — I’m not even convinced that there is a difference. instantly wishing I hadn’t. “I really do like you. It’s a tough world right now.” “Good luck with the dreaming. If we’d met in some other way… But we didn’t. No doubt my fluttering butterflies will get smacked upside their antennaed heads if they take up residence in my heart.” “I understand. which doesn’t really surprise me. *** I’m a little freaked when the night’s preparations begin without Anne being present. “Good luck watching me dream. but I fail.” I repeat. “You go on in. I’m disappointed at the .” “Walk in together?” I ask. but then I remember how pleased my dick is tonight. With Mary I want real sex. It’s as if she’s saying that nothing changes in one way. but there is a significant journey ahead nonetheless. I try not to stare too lustfully at Mary’s body as she makes her way along the blacktop. Feelings.” I fill in quickly. especially with a heart-melting babe like Mary Poole around. “But it was only five minutes.” “I should probably charge you my regular fee. I… I need this job. either. Thanks. I think about Sharon again. The funding for my graduate studies has been cut off and… You know how it is. like the forces of withering and dieing that have been loosed on the world have stomped the heart right out of… well. That one was easy.” “That’s plenty to think about.“I wish.” she jokes. And what did dream-Sophie say earlier today? “Lust never sleeps”. Lust never sleeps. Or something like that. but everything changes when your state changes. in case you were wondering. “David… They have rules. And love seems almost anachronistic these days. and they have very strict guidelines about this sort of thing.” Mary wishes before walking on.” I reply. so I guess I’m not too unhappy. too. like it’s lust. but that’s not the only thing that seems to be stirring when I’m around her. It sounds very mystical. I’m not exactly happy about what just transpired. that has enough raw energy to keep churning in a decaying world. We shouldn’t… you know…” “I understand.” she adds. and how I wanted dream sex with her and ended up with the real thing. How true. I know she stirs me with lust. The other… I don’t know. The fact that she chose a neighboring state seems to confirm this — it’s like you don’t have to go anywhere in terms of distance for things to be different. and real… I don’t know. not love. hearts. I guess. I’m going to soak in the sunset before they own me for the night. I’m starting to wish that Anne were here for reasons that aren’t tied to her fashion model looks. isn’t it? No. afraid that I’ll say something I’ll regret later. They can see into my dreams. “I. Okay. That’s possible. but I’m almost certain that I saw him in the control room in yesterday afternoon’s dream. “I. and the exact details a visitor would see if the visitor were truly there. impatience making his voice hard. only I’m too stubborn to admit could be true. recalling Sophie’s words from today’s dream: You know. goosebumps rising on my arms. because my dick is positively tingling with hope. the details of the room significantly changed from the photographs they showed me. A specific image. I try to find refuge in Mary’s theory about the “collective unconscious” — maybe I know where strangers really are because their existence is part of some grand consciousness-soup that I’ve tapped into. but I trust these two even less. um…” I begin. And obviously more than that. The dreamme — not even the regular dream-me but my light body when it splits off. Offices where they would know the personnel. I feel like I just stepped into a Twilight Zone world. A verifiable image. Dr. The face is easily recognizable — the guy’s features are fairly generic. They aren’t peering into my dreams — I’m telling them what I see when my light-body flies. I was here in a dream. and it has my entire body trembling. or passed him in the lobby. its lone occupant in jacket and gloves. I shiver. I’m beginning to perspire and I know why. I flip through a couple dozen before coming to a sudden halt. Her absence is… a question mark. and they sent me to specific offices in my dreams. They’ve found some way to capture images from my brain! “David? You’ve recognized someone?” I want to scream. but at a specific time. but I keep my mouth stubbornly shut. Phillips and Eduardo begin things by handing me another stack of photos to pick through. I could have bumped into this guy in the elevator. those were real satellites you visited. I don’t trust her for shit. and rattled that she would disappear right after I played mind games between her thighs in my sleep. Real people in my dreams? Real things out here. There are no satellites this time. thousands of miles from where I sleep. and stop. if the place turned out to be a real place. I think. freezing cold with boxes lining a wall. Phillips pipes. um… I think I recognize this guy from yesterday’s control room dream. it’s not. visits real satellites in orbit over a real Middle East or a real post-2/18 Australia.absence of on-the-job eye candy. “David?” It’s Eduardo. my heart racing. my voice quavering. observed from in there. behind closed eyelids? “David?” Dr. not only at the specific place. and what it sees is real. there’s a more rational explanation. Real satellites in my dreams.” I say. . I recall the London office. they’re all mug shots. or it’s absurdly more convoluted than the other thing staring me right in the face. viewing the actions of real people in real places in real time. I’m having a silent Holier Than Shit moment inside. It doesn’t have to mean… what I know it actually does mean. and when we come to one particular door and Eduardo pulls out a key card. a woman. too. The fuckers wouldn’t even get me a Dr. No wonder I couldn’t find Anne or Mary Poole to fuck with in that dream — it wasn’t a fanciful dream-reality but a different shift. I can pinpoint the very chair where Anne sat. But I’ve been here. Pepper yesterday. I see that Eduardo has a twisted little smile on his face. and I think I’ve finally identified the nature of the creepy energy that’s made my skin itch since day one in this program: I look into their eyes and I don’t see them looking back at me like I’m David Sand. floating rather than walking. and crowded.” Eduardo indicates. “We’d like to show you a few images for tonight’s assignment. if I’m useful enough — property. the walls might as well be invisible. How much of this do you think you’re doing all by yourself? Don’t you think it’s a bit odd that you have the keys to the dream-car every time you fall asleep? They’ve changed everything. and we walk down halls I’ve never seen.” Dr. their meaning hauntingly clear. When I’ve finished with the photographs. It takes a ton of self-control to keep from asking for a double shot of vodka to calm my nerves. but doubt or uncertainty is a tool they can use for the moment. and vice-versa. and . They know. Or.” I recognize the digital projector. They know that I can go anywhere on the globe in the blink of an eye. a test subject helping them to understand dreams. monitoring a young woman who sleeps when I’m awake. I can’t keep a shiver from rolling through me. Phillips directs. I recognize another control room technician. David. even though I didn’t pay much attention to its design in my dream. They must know that I’m beginning to suspect. They’ve shown pictures of people from the building because they don’t want me to believe yet. because I already know what it’s going to look like on the other side. and I hear an old clip of Muhammad Ali: “Float like a butterfly. “Thank you. They ask me to accompany them to another room. and now everything can be changed. Now it’s empty. or is there more to it? Have the fuckers been secretly working to create a butterfly inside my skull? I keep a straight face — expressionless. with different personnel. not all of me but a formless piece of me. and I feel kind of emptied out. As with every other person and event I witnessed in this room. My changed brain. and pictures of people I’d recognize from Hawaii… No need.” “Continue to the end. “I’m… pretty certain. I think. Her ankles and calves didn’t look exactly right because I memorized them so well — they looked real because they were real. Messages from the dream world that previously made no sense suddenly come into focus. I look into their eyes and I see myself reflected as a tool. in fact — but inside I’m seething. Do that table and the special cap I wear on my head do nothing but monitor me. sting like a bee!” “Have a seat right here. That was the real Anne. and this is the long table I floated through to aim lingerie lust between her thighs. in a meeting where they discussed my brain.“You aren’t certain?” Eduardo demands. The room was dark then. They could have shown me a bunch of satellite shots.” he says. not when awake. Instead. and why would I? The games they play are part of what turned civilizations upside-down in the first place. When the room goes dark I brace myself.” A familiar red light appears on the map. expressing concern: The changes are stable. this embassy. I’d have an ongoing job.” They haven’t changed me so much that I’m clairvoyant. but it needs to be your door. I’m an experiment. or how many lies I’ve told? If I’m to believe half of what I read in the clandestine press.never saw it with the lights on. not theirs. the same one I’ve already seen in my dream. this suspected nuclear facility…” And spy. And ten to one my four-leaf clover dreaming status means I’ve become a valuable “asset” to somebody. which in itself would be as miraculous as anything else I can think of. because everything that’s happened over the past few days is up for inspection. Even so. and what would they do to me if they knew how much information I’ve concealed. gone from chrysalis-weak to butterfly-strong. and take note of every person and every thing you see. ready to see two colorful images of my grey matter. as a new image appears right next to the map. My mind races above the breath. I just didn’t know it could go so far. and my pajamas make my skin itch like crazy. followed by the memory of Anne’s voice. this underground bunker. Only I don’t trust them. The cap on my head feels like a black spider clinging to my skull. forever removed from the system just by stamping the label “enemy-combatant” onto a dossier. Oh shit and fuck fuck fuck! What have I gotten myself into. “If you achieve the lucid state tonight. whether I want to be one or not. or for a separate wing of research more or less tied to them. configured now with brightly colored wings. It takes about half a second for the words “ultimate stealth” to leap to the front of my altered brain. I guess. into every room. whether it’s in the waking world or inside my own frickin’ skull. unseen and undetectable — incorporeal. these might be the very people who make journalists and other inconvenient types disappear. but there’s a bright green exit sign for the place. I can hear the assignments to come as though they’ve already happened: “We’d like you to visit this cave. I’ve seen from the beginning that this facility is situated just a few miles down the highway from the National Security Agency’s headquarters. A door has been opened. it’s the map of Pakistan. I knew that — it wasn’t like they didn’t tell me they were seeking breakthrough knowledge about lucid-dreaming. It’s the little stone house at the foot of the craggy mountain. of the same terrain and the same structure. and settles just north of a village called Ziarat. A series of increasingly zoomed satellite images follows. I . but I’m not convinced that David is ready for this. as seen from space. this laboratory. clutching at one of the things I learned during my visits to Sharon’s yoga class. and able to be anywhere on the globe in the blink of an eye. “…is situated right here. Did they? “This small dwelling…” Eduardo begins. we’d like you to visit this building. so I try to keep still and concentrate on my breathing. and you can see the glass buildings of the NSA through the trees in winter. They can probably measure the general sense of creepiness I’m feeling right now. and who the fuck am I working for? *** Sleep is very far away when I’m finally on the table. You'd think that its location would be a closely held secret. Ten to one I’m working for them. Go inside. I don’t mind serving my country. going slower so as not to outrace what my motorcycle’s headlight can illuminate. Dream-me knew that I visited real satellites. the team can have few secrets once my light body is mobile. preparing to stop as an old man in robes steps out of the hut. even when it's shown to me. A gate blocks the road. to watch them masturbate or fuck. What was once separated wants to be in relationship. And why isn’t Anne here tonight — could they have sacked her for speaking out in that meeting? I wonder if she knew everything from the beginning — was she horrified at how they intend to use me. Well… I am. and watch her take a shower. it’s difficult to gauge your own intelligence when thinking that there’s a smarter-David reaching out to a dumber-David. but only an idiot could believe that the rules didn’t reset in unknown ways after 2/18. or merely concerned that I might need a few additional test runs? That’s one of the most frustrating things about this turn of events. only I’m not as bright as they are. Relationship. or even climb into the shower with her. and it’s become an impediment to seeing the new reality. . or hover over the beds of my favorite actresses and models. I kick into a lower gear. Is that a world I really wish to get mixed up in? I can turn the tables somewhat. and learn every password on every computer that’s used while I’m sleeping? Could I learn where Mary Poole lives. that I’m not sure whether anyone at all is trustworthy.mean. and trust better. and different states of being. or… Well. or not very much at all. and how I should make this new doorway mine. When the dream figures speak I have to listen better. but it’s high and I can make out glistening water off in the distance. just like I trust that this road will continue around this bend. Rounding another bend. I bring the bike to a halt right beside him. The whole of me is needed for action — the dream parts can’t just up and do things by themselves. Could I invisibly enter the headquarters of my bank. and how formerly unconnected areas grew together. seeing and faux-groping everything about her that makes my engines want to roar? I wonder if Mary knows everything. I gear my bike down. The moon isn’t quite full. and trust it. or penetrate impenetrable “undisclosed locations”. fishing in my pants pockets. and quick in a way that the regular me is not. and I recognize the structure as a primitive tollhouse. I think I’m starting to understand something. lit by a few torches on tall poles. or only some things. or what I think of as regular-me. just like the dream-women have been saying. It’s probably not even a matter of intelligence in the regular sense — I’ve made the mistake of placing skepticism upon a pedestal. like I’m a community inside of myself working to get along better. peering into the guts of government to watch the sausage being made? I wonder if I could float inside a Las Vegas dressing room filled with butt-naked showgirls. almost as if one part reached out to another. once asleep. to be involved. I’ve already seen that I can spy invisibly right here in the building. I need to understand everything I’m trying to tell myself. Is it the ocean? The bay? The road is unfamiliar. so if I wish it. so they need me. the dream figures trying to help the waking part wake up and catch up. I’m not a black helicopter conspiracy nut. I see a little stone hut ahead. The ramifications multiply like branches on a tree when I give it some thought — could I hang out at the actual White House. Thinking back on the messages I’ve received in my dreams. and how long has dream-me been alluding to changes to my brain. I’m hard-pressed to find anything in error. even though I can’t make out what lies ahead. even though I have the sense that I’m riding to a place I’ve been before. it’s like my less blinded subconscious mind has been working overtime to teach me from the inside-out. not theirs? It’s like one part of the mind is almost completely self-aware. Meanwhile. I think of those color-coded images of my brain. handing over his torch. “That bridge can’t be crossed!” I declare. hand stroking beard. about the size and color of a bowling ball but more roughly textured. with a long white beard and a hunched body that’s probably mostly bones under the robes. It’s a clever play on words.” my companion disagrees.” the strange man assesses. the same one I’ve seen before. Needs heating up. either this guy is hung like a horse. “That isn’t the kind of change that’s needed. leaving my bike behind. It was never designed to be crossed. Everyone ‘round here has been enhanced.” I fall into step beside him. “Not senile. The old man has a lighted torch in his hand. “Something’s broken?” I ask. then?” “Can’t say. but that bridge just can’t be crossed. From the shapes that come into definition through the robes. but the old guy’s cojones are almost as big as those two round candles.” he replies. and it lights.” he informs me. “No.” A twin candle waits on the opposite edge of the entrance. only something isn’t right. but I know I’m not being unreasonable. There’s something that needs tending if you’re going to have a chance of making it. and his dick is huge. The bridge. It’s a gigantic bridge.” “Great. I touch the flame to the wick. I’m not sure what the material is — it gleams and might be metal. This guy could be senile. “You need heat!” He reaches down and cups his balls with his hand when he says this.” the toll man mumbles. “Just ancient. because he’s really.” . or perhaps an unintentional joke.” the old guy dismisses my sarcasm. “It’s too…” I don’t know what the right word is. “And don’t be so surprised. and he touches the flame down to some sort of oversized candle at one side of the entrance. I’ve been told that I must reach the other side. Walk with me. really old. “They’re all the same thing. ambling forward. “Light that one over there.” he says. and when the road straightens out again I stop in my tracks. where the pavement of the road ends and a new surface begins.” Step by step we round a sharp curve.” he says. but it’s not like any metal I’m familiar with.looking for change. You might be the first to try. not broken.” “Let’s warm it up. There is a distinct beginning to the bridge. The candle is round and black. “You need more than light to cross this bridge. “No one ever comes here. if you would. “Here. “A bridge wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t meant to be used. “It just isn’t strong enough yet.” the man speaks. or… No. fear gripping my heart. there is no other option. “How many have made it to the other side. He may be ancient. “The bridge needs heat. or mostly you. Only Sharon never had immense breasts like… It must be Gina Marie. doing exactly what I beamed into her. with dreamNicole pressing her foot to my hard dick: You don’t have the foggiest idea how much trouble this could stir up. “You come in different disguises. and with remembering the reality of the unreality sinks in. “And no one woman will ever be enough. It shouldn’t be possible. you know. But maybe. but neither should zipping around the globe to spy on real things from the dream world. And I hear the things you say. “You know how I love change. confused. No wait. like she couldn’t help it. Roowwwr! “It’s true that I’ve been enhanced. her identity keeps shifting. “It’s you again. Well God fucking damn.” “What are you telling me? That I can have any woman I want? How?” “I’ve been trying to speak as plainly as I can. like she’s a woman who can’t decide whom to be.” she says modestly. and affect things. what am I thinking? It’s Sharon. The rest of her keeps shifting. almost too sexy to look at. my dream-cock has rocketed to attention. but it’s always you. and damn if her tits wouldn’t make Gina Marie envious. Though I haven’t forgotten where the real me is. And I’m dreaming.” I quote. It’s a good thing that no woman is beyond your reach. I can do things. can it? No. Now go out and stir up lots of it!” “Lots of heat? How?” “She’ll help. you’ll see. “’Recognize the energy. and they are watching with their probing instruments. because this must be the most ball-draining creature to ever walk the earth. or not the kind of substance that corresponds to the physical world.” “I haven’t given up on you. not the form’. There was more. aren’t I?” She doesn’t answer because I don’t need her to.” I say to my female companion. I’m here at the entrance to the all-important bridge. She’s wearing a simple black dress with heels.” the shifting woman says through blended vocal chords. I can’t touch the outside world directly from in here — I have no substance. or at least the dream-earth. She likes the heat more than anyone. fuck that — that’s the kind of skepticism turned cynicism that’s kept me from understanding these messages all along. “You’ve been trying to tell me things all along. too. just maybe. only… Fuck. They’ll be what you want them to be — how much clearer can I be?” Other messages that I ignored as bullshit come back to me: Being desperate for sex can be contagious. I think of Sharon. all thrown into a blender with some added sex juice. .” she replies. You might ignite a woman without even knowing you’ve done it. But it just can’t be possible. altering the orbits of worlds. but the real me is in the sleeping chamber tonight. but I haven’t really heard them half the time.“Your… equipment was enhanced?” I ask. like she’s every kind of woman I’ve ever wanted to drill. You’re a rogue comet.” I turn and see Mary Poole. we both know that. “What did I tell you before?” I remember. The “enhancements” being referred to here — they’re unnaturally enlarged sexual symbols.” my shifting sexpot comments. and they live hundreds or thousands of miles away. Not in the way I’ve wanted to be. heat and soul. partly out of curiosity and partly because I can. I do lose my view of the room. or had a dream ejaculation while inside of her? Would she go breathless. The same with Sophie — I aimed desires into her just today. I watch for a few seconds.They changed me. or feel an itch or indigestion or anything at all? I go right through Mary. smiling inside as I float forward to come out her back. and it kind of gets to me. until we’re more or less occupying the same space. or one state to those in a different state. Fuck. is what I’m all about when I’m in the lucid state — observing the actual world from an unseen perch. coincidentally. Including the lovely sexy Mary Poole. Gina Marie and Nicole Dampley aren’t banging on my door to fuck me the way Sharon did. “You’re finally with me. My dream cock is raging hard and I wonder if Mary can sense any of this. I can’t resist moving down and hovering close. Does that matter? Does it make something more likely to happen. not a dream version of the woman. just today. and why should they? I haven’t seen them in years. But now that I know. It’s effortless — no wonder I could hover over Sharon and me in my apartment earlier today. Which. or whether the wall between our states of being is just too thick. And if I’m really here tonight. too impenetrable.” Does she mean heart and soul? No. It’s really very lovely. or float. then the expected monitoring team is on the other side of that wall. and have to chuckle because I’m finally inside Mary Poole. The rest of me would be halfway inside her computer monitors if I had substance. once my dream-eyes go inside her head. occupants of two entirely different worlds trying to understand what makes the other tick. what if I screamed my head off. close enough that I could curl out my tongue and lick those angelic features clean. I also know that there must be rules. sort of like a gentle abstract light show on a fluid screen the color of toasted rose petals. I slowly float forward. I don’t feel anything too strange — maybe a sensation of warmth and a subtle vibrating that I can feel throughout my dream body. however. I rise out of my dream-body. right now. in the sleeping chamber. but still… It’s intimate in a way I never could have imagined. I float into the control room and it’s exactly as expected. I mean. I beamed strip-tease action into Anne. Didn't I think earlier that I wanted to drill right through her from one side to another? Once my dream-eyes are outside of her skull. Things go dark. dream representations of some kind of potent sex energy that I can beam from one plane to another. and don’t even know where they live. “It’s about time. Seeing Mary seated in front of her bank of equipment. and am I supposed to believe that she can feel that all the way in California? Anne. and what I see is smeared with a rosy hue. that’s me being a slow-witted doofus again. I mean. with vibrating points of brighter colors winking in and out of existence. but what feels even odder is to study Mary while she’s studying the instruments that peer into me. Thinking it. and will myself to be right where I really am. For the hell of it. Only everything I’ve concluded would make that the real Anne in a real meeting. or something like that. and now everything can be changed. Floating back . because I was really there. some of the women in recent dreams are from the past. I have a regular view of the control room again. or less? What are the fucking rules? I’m taking the impossible seriously and I need information — observable and confirmable information that helps me to know where I stand. It’s like we’re simultaneously contemplating each other’s guts. so close that we’re dream-face to living-face. I add to the mix. I mean. It’s not at all crazy to hear some alarm bells chiming alongside my desires — Mary sits right in the control room. Before it was like playing around. your pussy will become like a cum-crazed black hole. but what’s even more attractive is that I genuinely like her. I find myself wondering if it’s Mary’s angel face. turning her into a drooling cock-sucking machine. you’ll feel like you have the sexiest and sweetest pussy in the world. you’ll be completely truthful with me. And once we’re talking. Mary is a totally fuckable babe. and no one involved except for me and my naughty little hormones. lust. I want potential avenues of lust to be determined then. and even if she’s not entirely in the loop. the real me sound asleep and defenseless. dammit. the look that sees me as a usable thing. You think you might be falling in love with David Sand. after seeing Sharon absolutely overcome with lust. she’s part of the team. I back up a bit and think about what I want to aim into her. and tell you how nice they look on you. the smooth arms and just-right breasts. my cheerleading dick and cautious brain meeting somewhere in the middle. not now. she’s gone out of her way to be friendly and helpful. stopping somewhere to buy a super-short skirt and red stockings that you think I’ll love to see. Already I can see her eyes widening. and find that I’m unsure of how to proceed.to my original position in front of her face. the other screaming at me to remember how vulnerable I am in here. but should I? The miniskirt and stockings will be enough to tell me whether I’m on to something here. I’m well aware that I have competing urges inside. like a vaginaflavored pastry oozing and bubbling in the oven. no matter what we talk about. I float around her. one wishing to turn Mary’s pussy into a blast furnace. Considering how hard I am and how far I could go. If I compliment your tits in any way. her mouth going all lipstick for my dick for everyone to see. Looking at her like this and aiming behaviors into her has my dream-boner throbbing so hard that I’m afraid it might penetrate through the dream barrier and take on solid form in front of Mary’s face. Unless she’s been put up to it. and that it desperately needs my tongue tasting it. I begin. and I can just imagine how potent that sweetness would be if it got turned all molten. I’m buying into the idea that what I’m doing might actually mean something. and thinking about me gets you sexually excited. I definitely want to do more to her. then no more proof will be needed. You think about me. studying the fine legs and narrow waist. your sexual excitement grows. like she can hardly believe the hormonal spikes and lightbulb brightness appearing on her screens. not prudence. out of thin air. I treat Mary with kid gloves. just some sandbox dream-sex with no consequences. I want more than proof. or delusional. She looks so sweet. I want… options. . If I complement your stockings. created for the express purpose of devouring my cock. You’ll be compelled to drive out to Millie’s Diner right after work tomorrow morning. and that I can create… well. I want to do her — I’m not going to pretend that I’m above willing her to grill my meat if I can — but things are different now. and dressed like I want her dressed. not even a real person. It’s like trying to find an intelligent balance. and I’ve never seen that cold look in her eyes. Now. to the point that she seemed to live for yoga-fucking me and sucking my dick… It’s damn hardening to imagine that sort of hunger burning behind Mary Poole’s blue eyes. It could only be disastrous if I caused her to lose too much of herself. becoming completely cum-focused like Sharon. that keeps me from going more hardcore. shouldn’t I be able to juice her loins or tone things down depending on whatever she tells me in the morning? Every time I compliment you on the way you look. If she’s at Millie’s. Mary’s eyes have gone even wider and I know it’s from watching my brain in action. do they? They know about the light body. seeing on her monitors what I’ve undetectably been shoving into her mind and body. then. something they didn’t anticipate. and that’s given me… Whatever this is. through earlier stumbles or tonight’s more deliberate and measured dream-plans. committed when I didn’t know enough to be more cautious. then your lust will ease. Just imagine.I wonder if my actual body is panting and drooling in the sleeping chamber. doesn’t it? I probably made a tactical error there. Control room — the team doesn’t have a clue how much I can control. Which. won’t I? Which has me praying that Anne is trouble. but my lies have covered up the cause. I don’t know if it will work — I’m not one-hundred percent certain that any of this will work — but it’s an escape hatch. One way or another. during the day if they knew what I was capable of. There’s no way they’d let me leave the facility and dream. Her picture of my brain probably looks like the butterfly is jacking off by now. because I want that kind of trouble. That’s from a patched together toned-down menu of what I could do to her if she shows up. unsupervised. because I’m really not the most formidable guy when I’m sound asleep. and if it’s more… Well… If it’s more. And that’s from just wishing this stuff. The butterflies I’ve felt all evening long feel like they’re dancing everywhere now. Interlude — She Devils . All of this means that Anne could be something of a problem. I laugh without constraint right there in the control room. but I need the rest of the team to remain all-clueless out there. I think about the fact that she isn’t in the building. like my entire body is built of heated anticipation. just like the shifting anima woman and the old toll guy said. and they haven’t yet understood the consequences. what her instruments would look like if I laid it on totally thick. I’ll know for certain whether the trouble to come includes igniting and fucking any woman I want. I thought I’d get nothing more than some teasing or dream sex when I thought my thoughts with her. and you’ll be able to function normally again. and it makes me nervous. They figured out a way to jazz my brain cells in the direction of lucid-dreaming. not just to her but dozens of women. Maybe my butterfly brain makes me something like all-powerful in here. Respecting the need for continued secrecy. then I’ll have a world of pussy at my fingertips. I’ve been enhanced in a sexual direction. because I think I’m beginning to fathom the difference between being extremely turned-on and being freaky crazy-horny like Sharon at my apartment. sure. with the side-effect of enhancing psychological archetypes native to the inner world. bouncing from location to location to make beautiful babes blow like wet volcanoes. I don’t know… Is a twenty-something guy with a vivid imagination and a rock hard dream-dick supposed to get all apocalyptic about having to deal with trouble like that? I didn’t think so. They’re aware that my brain lights up. But something extra must have happened to me. just in case. and how I can zip around observing things. I aim one more thing at Mary: If I tell you to calm down. and the sight of her huge bared breast was knocking the faith right out of his eyeballs. otherwise how could anyone hope to keep up? She felt a rush of panic again — what if Nicole wasn’t there? She’d die. his lean face twisted as if her boobs were physically attacking him. his eyes filled with righteous anger. probably because he was at war with himself. pulling at them and he was only human and couldn’t help but look. so fucking ready to be licked and stroked. religiously offended and not wanting to look in his mirror. She needed Nicole… “Ohhh N…Nicole! I’m… I’m coming!” she promised the dropped phone. a wet bubble of lust forming between her lips. She kept pinching her firm nipples. again and again. She’d been close all day. her pussy like an unrelenting void.“You devil! You devil!” The swarthy cab driver kept calling her that. “I put you out!” he repeated. stripping out of her clothes to be ready. the ultimate orgasm. “H…hurry!” she shouted back at him. the driver jerkily correcting some lane-wandering caused by the sight of her massive breast. venting heated breaths at the roof of the car. She squeezed her nipple harder. . She needed the original orgasm. only her body wouldn’t let her die. and strong. but she couldn’t get there herself. Gina ignored him. tongued and oh God… “Oh God. a shaking index finger punching the redial feature. thighs opening and squeezing shut over and over. eyes shifting between the road and the beautiful boobs in his mirror. and Gina thought she would need an athlete as her lover tonight. like her pussy was in one of those pictures inside of a picture inside of a picture. She felt the car swerve. Gina! Are you close? Are you close?” Gina cried out. “I… I put you out!” the driver shouted back. which was only natural. she’d just fucking lie down and die. pinching the firm long nipple and gasping. He hated it when she said “Oh God”. waiting and dripping. The eyes in the mirror went wider. closer than close so that her wiggling fingers took her over the edge. the man’s jaw dropping. “Gina? Oh. his voice breaking. coming with abandon but never coming enough. her legs flapping down below. needing to get off into infinity. a real athlete. oh God!” she shouted. because everybody needed to look to see how beautiful her tits were. yet seeing that he was weak because he was unable to avoid looking. wishing that his right foot would turn to lead. the pain of abusing her nipple no substitute for real faith. Afraid. opening her thighs wide and teasing her pussy. she reached into her handbag and pulled out her phone. She didn’t know if the turbaned cabbie was a Muslim or a Sikh or any fucking thing under the sun. knees knocking. she’d tried that and failed. dropping the phone to the floor as her fingers dug deeply into her big breast. “Yesss!” Nicole’s voice hissed after the first ring. but he was a man. pulling her right breast completely free of her bra. teasing it and making it ready. almost brutally twisting until pain mixed in with the pleasure. hoping her friend would hear and respond. Didn’t the idiot know by now that her breasts were almost uniquely magnificent? He responded to them like everybody else did. with awe and lust welling up inside of him. The bubble popped as she rolled her nipple clockwise. wishing them to be there. it would just keep craving and throbbing and pulsing. She hung on to that little stab of pain like it was her new God. every blistering orgasm just another tease. torturing her with its need to be filled. Nicole had always been strong. clung to it and prayed that Nicole would be home. don’t stop! I didn't mean… Here’s more. more afraid that an accident would keep her from tasting Nicole's pussy. helping it to press thrillingly against her throbbing hellhole. gritting her teeth. pumping and pumping and so lost inside. If Nicole called. her fucking flamethrower of a beautifully built body. tapping the brakes. pumping and pumping and his dick absolutely engulfed in tit. Dictate. greedy for her tits as stripes of pinkish light swept through the cab. suffocate or fondle. rather than just accepting that he wanted to jerk off now? She saw headlights coming close. “No! Oh my God.“I put you out! I will!” But how many times had he threatened to dump her from the cab already? They’d covered thirty or forty miles since the airport. She was so stacked and sexy and nobody even dreamed of turning her down if she wanted them. she would just jump onto her and shove her huge tits in Nicole’s face and give her no choice. twenty more! Just get me there. his meat and balls lost inside of a humongous compressed tit-crack. but that was impossible — nobody had needs like hers. or perhaps even prayers. She couldn’t drive. unless the breaths were like deep panting sobs or half-delivered gasps from touching herself.. swallowed up in their volume. she wiggled her breast back into hiding. muttered angrily — what had she picked. and the phone buzzed… Oh yes. pressing the numbers brail-like with their tongues. she knew that. and thought about dialing Nicole’s number again. trying to appease it for another three miles. towards Nicole. with her searing senseless pussy dictating everything. despite the cost of the cab. calling each other’s pussies. Afraid that he was forgetting to look at the road. placing the phone between her thighs and squeezing as hard as she could. and the cab rolled inexorably forward. her pussy so wet. he mumbling indecipherable obscenities. "Oh yesss!" she approved. dick tit. sopping wet and sometimes gushing from the never-ending flood inside. stroking and pinching and dabbing. dick tit dick tit… . too close… The car swerved again. towards some cure for the gnawing hunger that wouldn’t… fucking… stop! “Stop?” the cabbie asked. leaving wet messages. Nicole would do what she needed. Nicole. She thought she could hear a similar need in Nicole’s voice on the phone. Four miles and Nicole. electronically pulsing each other on top of everything else. closing her eyes and seeing it. It was useless to tell herself that she wasn’t gay. please!” He took her cash. shapely delectable Nicole. willing herself to hang somewhat together for these last four or five miles. his eyes unhappy but greedy. suck on these hard nipples or die. the descending scale of a receding horn blaring at them. suddenly picturing David Sand’s hard dick wedged between her breasts. dick-tate… “Dick-titting!” she spit. Nicole… She groaned. She kept shoving cash over the seat every time he seemed serious about stopping. just like it would have been useless to try to rent a car. fucking grinding her poor teeth. dick between tits. his whole cock pumping against her soft hot flesh. letting the phones vibrate inside. in front. and how could she trust her senses anyway? She had no reliable sense of anything outside of her own body. The driver looked.. bending over to pick her phone off the floor. briefly making her boobs glow before the shadows returned. maybe they would do that — place their phones inside each other’s pussy. she could barely even breathe. she getting off in back. She fumbled below the swell of her boobs. Nicole. pulling her boob back out. the one cab in New Jersey with the only man in the world who cursed himself for responding to the magnificence of her tits. and she wanted Nicole. “I don’t knooowwww oh oh OH!” Gina managed to wail. heated hands stroking even hotter flesh. but the sound was all muffled. then jiggled the doorknob and heard buzzing. Nicole but it couldn’t be Nicole. they were slowing. She squeezed her bared breast with both hands. driving her mouth to Nicole’s . taking two steps at a time. the fucker. turned the knob again and found it unlocked. making them so fucking long and her cleavage so dick-ready. collided and held firm like glue. hands touching and grasping. pulling into the apartment complex! “You cover yourself up!” the driver demanded again. and then her head was on Gina’s chest. Nicole’s apartment was somewhere in the building. “You go to hell. running faster than when she ran track in middle school. She wanted to say more. “What’s… hap…?” Nicole tried to ask. and what if… “That one. hearing the clomp of footsteps racing down. She wasn’t a devil. running until she was pounding on the door with the flat of her hands. the fucky fucker somehow doing this. she needed to say more but something took hold. up and down. sucking on it right through the torn silk of her bra. trying to remember the number. It was only an entry door to the unit. just kept herself somewhat sucking fucking together for another few seconds… “You devil!” the driver shouted. running with her boobs undulating up and down. the same something but even more gripping. sucked and nibbled at her hard pulsating nipple. You get out you devil!” She was already out the door. just one-half mouth-watering mile and if she just sucked on her tit. it was someone else. oh God so thick and hard. her mouth opening and her huge boob bouncing down. They collided on a landing. so hard to think. Which building. you devil!” “I’m not!” she tried to say. “You go. collided with their things clattering. wanting her tits and making her want him to want her tits and need Nicole's tits too and oh God did she want Nicole's tits! “Ohhh!” she groaned. the aftershocks rippling through her. trying to even see the numbers. a soft pliable immersion strip for his hardness. A glance at the driver’s navigation screen indicated only one-half mile. She cried out Nicole’s name again and again. She turned. turned again. She tried to remember the number — six. a long fleshy David dick crack-attack. it was all so unbelievably hard. spiraling up. wet hot glue panting and melting. trying to arrange her damage blouse over it as best she could. When the car came to a stop she had another moment of panic. lips closing around her left nipple. or sixteen? “Gina? Gina!” She heard Nicole’s voice reverberating in the stairwell and she ran up. for pleasing His Hardness… “You cover yourself up!” her driver barked over the seat. Her hands started to tease at her clitoris through her jeans again… But oh God. “You no cause trouble you get out of my car!” Hard. pointing. She sort of heard the driver and instinct told her that he was right. gasped and couldn’t help lifting it to suck on her nipple. it would just delay her from getting Nicole’s lips on her nipples or her head between Nicole’s thighs if she got hassled for having her boobs hanging out in public. squeezing her boobs together with her forearms. and she hastily shoved her breast back under the cup of her bra.” the driver said.“Dick tit dick tit dick tit…” she mumbled. it had to be David Sand. The orgasm came in a body-wrenching double-barreled shot like she’d been coming all day but it flowed onto Nicole now. using her fingers to open it even wider so that David’s name could rush in deeper. like a word-cock fucking Nicole with sound. Gina pushed harder and rolled. jerking them down. fingers needing to stroke.breasts. making her boobs bounce and her darting tongue flick wildly. Gina felt her knees buckling. “Oh so hard!” she demanded of Nicole’s pussy. only David was hard enough. both bodies pressing to be aggressors. needing to jam themselves into this pussy. On her back she felt Nicole squirming onto her like a beached seal. so hard. every action creating more blinding coming and more licking. a wet gap for her tongue and fingers to fill. the hot pungent smell of the day’s cumulative lust released into the air all around them. clutching hands pulling at her jeans. flopping and wiggling breasts into her face. the oomph of hard contact with the cement stairs echoing around them. and she writhed and she kicked and was she falling down the stairs? “Ouch!” she grunted. She fought to get her mouth on Nicole’s nipples again. She kept bucking. hands on pussy and tit with hot pussies wanting to grind. only thin panties as drenched as her own. “Fuck me! Fuck me!” Nicole cried. blubbering and jerking with Nicole screaming and the screams reverberating inside of her flowing cunt. even more gushing and frantic clitting. needing to get wet and make Nicole even wetter. yet her body was like a clawing animal trying to fuck back. emptying her out as her body erupted with white-hot stabbing jolting current. so excited and hard. pulled together like magnets with hips gyrating wildly to grind pussy onto pussy. toppling Nicole away. sucking on it. Nicole’s blonde hair blinding her. It knocked the breath from her. and raising her hips with her calves she somehow allowed Nicole to tear her jeans down her hips. freeing her boiling pussy. But it wasn’t hard. trying to kick Nicole away and get on top. sweltering need pressing into a wet gushing mirror of that same need. maybe as deep as his cock. naked flesh bouncing onto hard concrete. mouths on nipples. her right knee hitting hard on something. daggers of pleasure poking at every part of her body. her pussy and Nicole’s. deliciously hard nipples filling her mouth. Her friend was half-naked already. wet like her. eating and coming and eating more. “Eat me! Eat me!” Nicole shouted with clairvoyant urgency into the hallway. She came. and coming onto Nicole made her mouth blubber against this hot pink needy membrane. her desperately needed friend sucking on her clitoris. her nipples so hard. hurriedly shifting around so that Nicole’s legs were in front of her. needing to be fucked but insisting on fucking first. her hands tearing at Nicole’s blouse and bra to free her tits. Her boobs were overwhelming when they hung down. her lips wide and her tongue pushing inside of her lover. bright pink panties that she pulled away to reveal flowing wet folds and a completely shaven beautiful glory of a pussy that she didn’t know how to eat but just shoved her mouth against. her wet stop-gap porn in a storm. her right hand grabbing hard between Nicole’s thighs. sucking like a vacuum and trying to make it grow. She smelled cement but mostly pussy. just flattening her face against Nicole’s wet pussy and never stopping. This was wet. all the frantic screams echoing. tongue fully out with her cheeks mashed against Nicole’s muscled thighs. hard as David would be hard. She felt hot breath on her own pussy and screamed into Nicole. pushing with her arms. to get her mouth on those nipples and suck. She shouted David’s name into Nicole’s open pussy. filling . her breasts in Nicole’s hands. to bare her nipples. they could mold themselves onto Nicole’s face and she could dine on Nicole’s nipples and eat her pussy for dessert. this wet hot pussy-owner of a hot bitch friend. for her voice to inhabit and her fingers to stroke. making her hips thrust. . but it seems . Gina kicked something with her foot. They heard ringing until Nicole began to scream. pressing her foot against my dick while saying: Unite the energy of this and this. two bodies in a tumbling sex-grip. “So… so hard!” she thought she heard an echo. David's machine voice speaking against Nicole's dripping wet box. This and this — not cock and foot. wet fury making the devils dance and need to dance more. the new workings of my brain and what I might call my spirit or soul. needed though the need tore at them. The word “soul” leads me back to dream-Nicole. and that the old guy was so freaking hung under his robes? He said he was enhanced. or sexual desire? Well… duh. there must be some partnership between the heat or lust of the body. the clutching artless sex too hard. not meaning.her with hot breath and the named name of what they both knew they needed even more than this. no echo at all.. David whipping their dirty demons with so much more than his distant machine voice. You’re finally with me. David!" Nicole cried. Mary surmised that it might be a new state of consciousness. Having to give up on feeling David speaking inside her own cunt. bumping and wailing. but cock and the sole of her foot? If the words “sole” and “soul” are only different in spelling. On an impulse she reached out. She gushed frustration — it wasn't fair. all working together to create some state where this whole transition thing will happen. the impossibly sexy shifting woman proclaimed in last night’s dream. they needed him to make the demons scream. Unless there are meanings within meanings. She wanted it and fumbled in slippery futility with her hair in her eyes and their bodies awkwardly joining together. heard it skid and stop. and he’s a part of my changed brain — my changed mind. The best I can figure. felt Nicole's cell and opened it. All of this is pretty damn deep for me to contemplate. Nicole had more than David's name inside of her pussy. pressing it hard against her. their screams echoing up and down the stairs. His machine picked up. They needed his hard dick. then… Then what? My soul needs heat. must get even harder and the only way was David. forming a tightly interlocked ball with four writhing limbs. the bridge is a symbol of some major transition coming my way. like the toll collector with his thing about “heating” the bridge. piercing wails bouncing up and down the stairwell. His voice was inside of her! Gina felt frantically for her handbag. for her own fuck-phone. Gina whipped her body around to squeeze her colossal breasts against Nicole’s smaller ones. but both knowing they could get even harder. Nicole's hand fumbling at the phone. bumping and gasping… Chapter Seven — Molting Meets Molten I wonder if I’m beginning to get the hang of this dream interpretation stuff. but her hands only met bare concrete. but it was Nicole agreeing with her. Was it a coincidence that the huge candles were round like testicles. getting hard with David’s hardness. his hardness taming the devil she felt inside. or that I need to make come my way. and as the tones speeded she put the phone to Nicole's pussy. because a couple of ambiguous references suddenly click into place during the morning debriefing. two she-devils writhing like pink fuck-me salamanders down the hard cold stairs. They both cried out. "I need. and I don’t feel any closer to understanding what this supposed transition is all about. heat and soul. she had his fucking voice! Her fingers desperately probed inside of Gina and met hard plastic. hard nipples pressing into hard nipples. David's voice swallowed into squishy silence as Nicole shoved her phone inside her pussy. According to Mary’s interpretation. making everything too frantic. She pressed the redial button. like my brain is so full of butterfly poo that the actual meaning of the LDSP’s acronym zipped past me unnoticed. Dr. instead of the special program as they’ve sold it to me all along. “It took longer than usual for you to fall asleep. blah blah blah. of course. I'm pretty sure that Eduardo noticed. because I see his eyes go cold and angry for an instant. not with any certainty. aren’t most “enlightened” people ascetics. but that's just the way it is. going tag-team at me pretty hard this morning. I don’t flinch or react at all — they can interpret my disinterest as they wish. It’s a sexy fantasy. but that’s an oral fixation I’ve witnessed for nearly a week.” Dr. Totally juvenile and self-destructive. And no way am I ever crossing a bridge that leads to a sexless existence. but they underestimated how true the jokes are.” Dr. I could take the toll man’s fixation on heat as a sign that I need to feel lust for any of this fantastic stuff to work at all. Especially if we’re talking about people like Dr. Phillips and Eduardo exchange glances. Phillips makes a slip of the tongue when he calls the program the Lucid Dreaming Surveillance Program. how essential it is that I give them complete and straightforward answers. or had managed to keep my . “The readings were somewhat different than usual through the night as well.” I say. The unusual highlighting on our instruments returned. Dr. or even celibate? I’m fairly poor. and it appeared that you were engaged in highly focused problem-solving through much of the night. They found a test subject whose mind could be configured the way they wished. and basically perverted. and I think it has to do with Anne still being absent. I don’t really want to see these two farts whip out their dicks. Are you worried about something? Trying to solve a particular problem?” Only what to do if you fuckers are part of the Evil Empire. but how much what I want to do is very anti-establishment. not for any sexual thrills… And that’s probably the key. I look at them with fake earnestness as they go at me about my emotional state. or like I heard but already knew. I keep imagining her waltzing through the door in a translucent bodystocking and six inch heels. to give each other a blowjob during this very debriefing session.ridiculous that my gonads would be the engine to send me into Nirvana or something. Phillips tells me what I already know. Hell. Phillips and Eduardo. Heat. about how much of a guy’s thinking takes place below the waist. It’s all an act. That feeling of indefinable pixie dust I’ve experienced while aiming sexual needs into women was absent. “Just some minor personal stuff. Though it would surely get me buried neck-deep in shit — perhaps even water-boarded if they’re of that ilk — I couldn’t resist aiming urges into them while still in my light body. I mean. and how relevant that is to the success of the program. Phillips has been sucking pretty enthusiastically at his pipe all morning. I’m not even one to go around proclaiming that human beings have souls. like my heart really wasn’t in it. I find myself wishing that I'd known what I was doing from the beginning. like it’s crucial that I’m driven by sexual desire when I want to affect someone. and not the kind of glances I’m looking for. We also detected an elevated state of emotional anxiety the entire time you were being monitored. the reality is that my paranoia index is at an all time high this morning. Dr. “It’s no big deal. I know — but then I had the sense while doing it that it had no chance of working. Phillips and Eduardo would probably shoot me if they knew how my mind actually works — not only what I might be able to do. and it doesn’t bother me one bit. but the kind of event that would surely turn my waking life into a living nightmare. breathing heavily as she asks me to accompany her to another room for more intimate questioning. my duo of lying scheming debriefers. it's not so much because I’m above wanting things. It’s a good thing that no woman is beyond your reach. giving them a thin slice of truth in lieu of another lie. which is what I assume they hoped for. dressed a particular way. Phillips. and knowing whether Mary travels out of her way. So the smart part of me said it’s a good thing. she can wait. I’ll sort it out. I saw some things in that house that should have remained private. don’t worry. and I see them tune partway out again as I describe the old man blocking the passage of my motorcycle. and I’m… I’m not sure how I should handle that. and so I go with the tactic that usually works for me. I didn’t understand that what I did was real until just recently.” “Very well. They think they’re so smart. like having an ephemeral hard-on makes everything okay? It’s an interesting question — an ethical dilemma. but I have other . It isn’t like I want to punish her about it. I get the sense that I’m being threatened. It has nothing to do with my work here. Cooped up in the debriefing room with only Eduardo and Dr. is to know whether I have a seat at the throne of Mount Olympussy. I might be misinterpreting something. Sharon. very aware that Mary Poole will hear every word I say. but after hearing Mary’s nuanced interpretation of symbols.” they move on. just to make certain that no details have been left out. then. and half a dozen kids. But Mary is Mary. but is there more to it. I'm afraid that I've already screwed everything up somehow. They barely listened to this material the first time.” I lament with exaggerated angst. The house contained more women than men. and that’s an essential thing for me if I’m going to be in a relationship. flexibility. Odd. even though nothing in that direction has been said or otherwise indicated. how my conscience wasn’t bothered when aiming sexual thoughts into beautiful women over the past few days. mentally skimming past half of what I say because they’re anxious for me to get to the “good stuff”. It doesn’t take much imagination to see that I might have ethical dilemmas up the wazoo with a colorful butterfly flapping inside my grey matter. straight from the super-sexy woman’s mouth: No one woman will ever be enough. a mouth and throat that might have been patented by Dirt Devil. I don’t really think I love her. without having learned how to unscrew my missteps. Sharon has it all — looks. we know that. and I can see that I’m going to have to give these A-holes an excuse for my agitation last night. Tell the entire dream a second time. and for the first time I felt kind of dirty while in my light body. It’s not even a close contest. devoid of my shenanigans while floating and lusting inside the building. So fuck Sharon. There wasn’t much to it — no stash of weapons or guys in turbans wiring homemade bombs. the parts where I blinked myself right to their stupid stone house in the mountains of Pakistan. and I’ll try to be better at leaving my personal concerns at home. and if Mary Poole shows up at Millie’s Diner this morning… Oh fuck. They aren’t at all happy with my “no big deal” evasion concerning their instruments’ readings.” I give them an abbreviated version of the toll booth dream. I felt sort of horrible floating from shabby room to shabby room. but from where my dick sits it got a green light last night. That might be melodramatic… but I’m guessing not. “My ex-girlfriend showed up yesterday. One thing I’m not going to lose any sleep over — ha ha — is getting hot babes horny. and after the way she sucked my cock. “Let’s go over what occurred when you finally did fall asleep. filled with the complicated behaviors of real people living under conditions of extreme poverty. I get the sense that these two jokers absorb my dreams the same way a kid absorbs a porn novel. otherwise I might have black cars and guys in sunglasses tailing my motorcycle in my off-hours. because those were actual lives beneath me.hormones chilled for just a couple of days. “She’s insisting that we get back together. I promised to go to Sharon’s place first thing after work. when the whole planet could use someone decent to get lucky. which makes me wonder if it’s already out that I creamed in my pajamas the other night. If Mary Poole is sitting on a stool at Millie’s. “There must be changes in the air that my astrologer forgot to mention. “You sure you have a stomach to put them in?” “What do you mean?” “I mean you look like someone ripped your guts out this morning. and direct the bike off the paved highway at one point. “Something… fell through. Mary’s car is long gone when I leave the facility. which I have to admit is a nice touch. I’ll change from a cynical confused loner to the man with the happiest dick in the universe. I feel pretty secure when I get my Honda back up to speed. “Two visits in one week?” Millie greets as I enter and take a seat at the counter. I mean. *** They keep me more than ninety minutes late at the facility. but I do a lot of checking in my mirrors. It might be unnecessary paranoia. What happened. and the toll guy in my dream did ask for change. and it’s a hard call to say which is more deflated — my hopes or my dick. David?” I must have quite the hound dog face.” “You know I can’t resist your hash browns. like I’d suddenly stumbled onto more luck than I could believe. the same guy absently whistles “If I Only Had a Brain” from the Wizard of Oz. all right. And I’ll make certain that I’m not the only one that feels like falling to their knees to give thanks. Unless the fuckers are tracking me from satellites — maybe I should learn how to screw lens caps on every one of those things when I fly in my sleep — I have to conclude that my free time is still basically free.” I flatter. prodding and poking and sticking me in the tube for additional brain scans. and I stop at the top of a small rise to see whether any trailing vehicle might be creating a similar plume. asking whether they’re looking for anything in particular. which went beyond the monetary.” “Too bad. Right after they slide me into the tube. I’ll change.” she answers. because Mary’s car isn’t in the parking area. I circle around the building just to make certain. and I can feel my heart racing almost as fast as my bike as I make my way past the charred Walmarts and other skeletons of what the surviving mainstream media still refer to as “global wreckonomics”. that’s all. and unsupervised. maybe because I just lost the scent of all the comely foxes in the world. I try chatting with the technicians for a change. One bespectacled smart-ass cracks a joke about the porn movies playing inside my skull. I had high hopes. placing her small .thighs to fry. but my hopeful heart smacks into a brick wall once I arrive at Millie’s. I suppose that isn’t the same thing as a completely free trip — even with EZ Pass you get charged. and Mary Poole confirming that my dick has EZ Pass into any pussy that fills me with desire. riding onto dirt roads that cut through formerly productive farmland. Even going slow and steady my bike kicks up a long cloud of dust. I guess — silly isn’t it? I thought… I don’t know. just think of the morning it could be — Millie’s coffee or maybe even her hash browns in my belly. I think she’s going to say something more.” she explains. “It’s time to do a reading for you. glancing to make sure that the two remaining customers in the diner are taken care of. I couldn’t even guess how many readings these coins have been involved in.” I nod. probably on a downward spiral even though everything about my life suddenly feels like it’s standing too fucking still. although now I’m back to wondering why it happened in the first place. “My mother passed these coins to me. I don’t care if I offend anyone or not. mostly. All the important decisions in my life came about with the help of these coins — everything from marrying Dan to whether or not to buy this old diner. but it would still be sex.hand on mine. I guess not. I’d swear some days that this diner is sitting in the middle of Kansas. “What is this. Millie? What are we doing?” “We’re doing the Ching. I kind of do. aren’t I. “Has anyone ever helped you with a reading before?” “The I Ching? Never. or that anyone would start to believe in such a thing.” she says in an almost-whisper. “I’m going to share a little secret with you. “It’s important to be given your tools — the energy is much better.” . to start believing in the unbelievable. which are dated from the 1960’s with some areas so smooth that I comment on their worn state. and she gives me a little nod. I guess it was dangerous thing. I was so certain that I’d figured things out. even an understanding someone like Millie. She hands me the pennies from her box. I look at the payphone near the restroom doors and think about calling her. I look around the place. mostly men. But also… You lived here all those years. Besides. I’m just a younger version. but a customer asks for their check. but I can’t drop a story on Millie or anyone else about how I thought I was on the verge of scoring pussy all over the world. pulling out an elaborately patterned wooden box. Millie comes back and she asks in a very gentle way if I want to talk about it. and you never realized how much we’re in the boonies? If it weren’t for all the water. “David?” she fixes her eyes on mine in a way she never has before. with just a few older customers. but you have to promise never to tell anybody. All the dream messages pointed in the direction of Mary Poole being here — I thought for sure that she’d be unable to avoid being here. barely larger than a box of matches. like my dream-wishes would lodge in the back of her brain and nag at her without mercy. and occupied. But why all the secrecy?” “Out of respect for the ancient art. to apologize for being delayed. and it’s about the same as the day before. But how could I have gotten things so wrong? I didn’t dream all that sex with Sharon yesterday. It’s not the kind of thing to admit to anybody. but I don’t like being teased about things I take seriously.” she says. looking life-worn and listless. and Millie reaches down behind the counter. sliding its lid open and removing several dull pennies. it’s too far-fetched — that anyone could have that kind of ability. leaving me to work through my sorrows alone. Sex with her this morning would feel like a small consolation compared to what I was hoping for.” She also mentioned an astrologer a few minutes ago — flake city — but I keep my mouth shut and follow her lead with a semblance of great respect. ” . but all major changes take place in an atmosphere of upheaval. otherwise it’s all for nothing. an upheaval of the masses against unjust or unwise rule. needing to cast off old things to give birth to something new inside of you. It’s never easy to face the unknown. or whether I’m really supposed to believe that this is profound or not.” “You’re getting all that from these lines?” “Each individual line has its own meaning. and her respect for the activity sets the tone.” “You have all this stuff in your head?” I ask with astonishment. but only giving readings to close friends.Without making a racket of it. “Being in a place of change is quite positive. You’ll probably have to sacrifice something. we’re at ‘the great man changes like a tiger’. “is called ‘wrapped in the hide of a yellow cow’. or what she’s doing. where the old ways of doing things are replaced with an entirely new order. in a place where great transformation is possible.” “And that’s a good thing or a bad thing?” “We all have to grow. This first line. but the key is their arrangement as a whole. and now I know it. but there’s always a darker side to even the best hexagrams. for instance. David. or the changes could be taking place mostly hidden away. The way Millie is concentrating. you name it. too. “Been doing this since I was a young teen. she sure takes it seriously. meaning swift and decisive change. these lines are tied to political revolutions. my flesh tingling.” she indicates with a finger. It speaks of pretending to be docile as one’s strength gathers. I cast the coins on the counter as she directs. aren’t you?” “Forty-nine what?” “Hexagram forty-nine — Molting. “You have to know that when the time comes. In an outward way. and you’re either facing it now. and only in emergency situations. It might be something as obvious as your job or a relationship. By the time we reach this fifth line. Some part of your life is in a state of metamorphosis — that could mean your attitude. “You really are in the thick of it. The growth is needed.” “What kind of change?” I ask Millie. your aspirations. It’s too potent a tool to play with for fun. or Revolution. or what feels like personal risk to the ego. You’re like a snake shedding its skin. You’re molting. paying very close attention now. and watch as she makes corresponding marks inside of a worn little notepad. The main thing is that you’ll eventually have to race past any fears that hold you back.” she whispers when there are six broken or unbroken lines drawn onto her pad. or it’s coming. Be the tiger when the time comes.” I urge. “Go on. “Forty-nine. and sometimes almost too quickly. on an unconscious level. It’s the same kind of thing when taken as an inner or personal movement. something to be watchful for.” “I’m in an emergency situation?” “Thought so. She looks at me significantly. I have no idea what I’m doing. like a missed opportunity.” Christ. I’m definitely awake. walking behind Mary for the view.” Even more than arousing — I’d say fucking molten. The driver’s door opens. “I can’t believe you’re here. then you owe me a case of beer. “I don’t know if this is going to make you feel better or worse. Imagine a political revolution. red thighhigh stockings. their exquisite shapeliness accentuated . I stick to my pattern. As she turns. and the new skin might feel raw for a time. “I’ll poison her tea if she’s here to drive a stake through your heart. my cock as hard as the Formica countertop.” I breathe out.” I see what she sees — Mary Poole’s car pulling up right in front of the door.“And the sacrifice?” “Is inevitable. Because her reading is so dead-on. her blue eyes wider than usual. The woman’s legs are just fantastic. “I can’t believe you’re here!” she gushes with a mixture of wonder and relief.” Millie’s smiles. I see her forehead furrow. It’s all topped off with a red scooping sleeveless pullover that clings to every delectable inch.” I look at Millie and I have this eerie sense that she stepped out of one of my dreams. “Holy sheeeiiittt. and she looks past me with an expression of concern. “Mary!” I exclaim with real emotion as summer heat and almost too much carnal appeal breezes through the opened door. and this time it takes a hell of a lot of willpower to keep from speeding up to give her rear a good hard poke with my aching dick. and all the sacrifice and turmoil involved in something like that. a snake shedding its skin — at the very least the snake has to leave its old self behind.” I say disingenuously.” Millie whispers. and this is the real Millie. because she’s nailing me with half-understood truths just like the anima women do. and the color red pours out. “Join me for breakfast?” She nods vigorously. a black skirt so short that several inches of creamy thigh show above where the stockings end. touching my hand again. And God fucking damn! Mary looks like a piece of Valentine’s Day fuck-candy — red heels. Before I can decide whether to go there. and try to float out of my body… No. “What?” I ask. like a gorgeous flower glowing in the morning sun. my cock and aspirations suddenly feeling too big to fit inside the diner. I whisper to Millie: “Things are looking way up all of a sudden. I have a moment of doubt. “Whoa. If it’s the other. turning to where her eyes have gone. Or again. and mutters under her breath: “I’m surprised you didn’t get number fifty-one: The Arousing.” she says. The point is that a transformation can’t take place without giving something up. I’m wondering whether to ask an extremely touchy question that pops into my mind — whether she had any foreshadowing of her husband’s untimely death through I Ching readings. Score one for the guy whose brains got jumbled. But the equation is thornier for all the non-dick parts of me. If I squatted on the floor I’d be able to see the beginnings of two round ass cheeks peeking out. “I… had this urge to be here. then looks at me oddly. and I… I panicked… I had to wait and then… I don’t know what got into me! I can’t believe I bought what I bought. even so I’d already figured out that Mary Poole would have absolutely scrumptious tits. like she’s searching for an expression or some signal that would give her a hint of what’s going on. because I’ve never deduced a truer thing in my life. and I finally have a real woman to manipulate. uncovered and squeezably smooth. it doesn’t look bad on me and I was… kind of hoping you’d like it?” God fucking damn I like it. Obviously David the Dream-Doofus forgot to remember that clothing stores wouldn’t be open early. In a way I’m wondering the same thing myself. and I have this odd sense that Mary Poole and I are both virgins. which appears to be an achievable goal. then she’s going to be compelled to be truthful with me. but it looks like she went for the whole I’m-so-incredibly-fuckworthy makeover once she began shopping. But David the Dream-Deviant had his shit totally together last night. but what’s the need when the entire ass is wiggling so beautifully in the barely-there skirt? I didn’t tell Mary to get new heels or a new blouse. practically standing over top of Mary. My entire body is tingling with excitement. I like it about as much as I’d like to open a tap on all the sexy female hormones in the world. because of Mary’s association with the . Mary blushes. “It’s been an unusual morning. and might be the most appetizing three inches of skin I’ve ever seen.” “And you keep a change of clothing in your car?” I ask with my eyes roaming a red sea filled with curves. so that she feels newly stunned every few seconds. but I hoped you did. are more tanned than I would have thought. just by flattering her on the stockings or her tits. like her cheeks are trying to catch up to all the red cotton and nylon.by stockings with vertical wavy nylon stripes of more or less translucency. the realization has hit me that all of this crazy shit is actually happening. or… I mean. “More coffee for me and a… tea?” Mary nods. “You just decided to drive out here today?” I say like it’s the most unexpected thing in the world. waiting for the right moment to approach. I make eye contact and she comes forward. poised to explore an entirely new form of sex that we barely understand. My dick is ecstatic. I guess I expect fawning eyes. and that there aren’t many around anymore outside of the urban centers. Millie makes “What a dish!” eyes at Mary. The tops of her thighs. I’m not clever like a brain scientist. some nervous fidgeting with the salt and pepper shakers. wondering how she’ll explain it. or that I was brave enough to wear it in public! It’s so… so call girl. and I’m on the alert for any visible signs of her emotional state. We slide into our familiar places. because it knows that I can set her off like a bottle rocket. right in front of my non-dreaming eyes. and a lot of wide-eyed blinking. I didn’t know whether you make a habit of coming here. or some other movie-style expressions of a woman feeling sexually enlivened as she’s falling in love.” she exhales. and the weight of it feels like it’s frying my nerves. If my dream-commands were firing on all cylinders last night. What I see is a quiet kind of breathlessness. “I stopped to shop… Nothing was open. I see that Millie is standing a few paces back from our table. because now that Mary is here and dressed to kill. like someone is tapping a “refresh” key connected to her brain. asking what we want to drink. At the beginning of any relationship. the wave seems to gather and crest. and male/female relationships are no exception. I mean. and the question of how far to go is almost too big to grapple with. like expectancy is fermenting right inside my brain cells. She’s been quietly hyperventilating over there. or even more shit for not being experimental enough. where all of their inhibitions and personality traits can be wiped away in a few seconds? My hands are trembling from imagining it. or any additional encouragement. She swallows hard. Go out and stir up lots of it. but damn. “Mary…” I say. and has me wondering how much of a Marymeltdown Millie could witness without calling either the cops or paramedics.” She smiles in a pleased but modest way with both her eyes and lips. But I know where this conversation is ultimately heading. because I want Mary coherent for a few minutes. like a wave of energy passing through. you put yourself in play only knowing that you find someone attractive. or doesn’t. waiting to hear what I think of her new clothing purchases. looking down at the salt shaker. like it’s become the Ferrari of dicks with a ridiculous amount of power under its hood. could I have Mary Poole writhing on the floor. watching an image emerge gradually under dim yellow light? I prefer processes that tease before unveiling their true nature. too. but that would mean stopping myself from doing what I know I’m going to do. literally begging me to shove my dick inside her pussy. I’m a slow burn kind of guy by nature — why else cling to the old method of developing photographs in a tray. I could stop it from going there. Rather than easing back. I finally say: “I think you look incredibly beautiful. and just by uttering her name I can see the dream commands trembling inside of her. I… I need…” . Mary. where I’d catch shit for experimenting too much. electrifying her from the inside. which is extremely intoxicating. I’m breathing heavily and my dick aches like it’s never ached before. I feel half-drunk. which she’s fondling absently with her right hand. or that you want to understand about me. In a public space I’ll need to keep my rpm’s down. Gorgeous as she is. I’m not going to say those words yet. Choosing my words carefully. All of a sudden I’m in a whole new situation — Mary won’t have a chance of escaping my chemistry. waiting breathlessly as something exciting develops. Mary isn’t an art project. like her pussy is yet another wick awaiting the torch. holding back the words that would have Mary Poole tearing her skirt and panties away… But come on — that’s only for now. because I’ve never witnessed anything so stirring in my life. I never expected to have to make a decision like this. the old bridge guy said in last night’s dream. But there’s more to it. but without any guarantee that the chemistry will be any good. I hardly need the old guy’s blessing. and the minefield I could be treading into if I screw her up in some irretrievable way. and for some reason I hear mental echoes from the critiques in my photography courses. The effect on me might be even greater than it is inside of her. With Mary dressed as a fuck-me doll. and she utters a barely audible “Uh!” with her rear squirming in her seat. just by uttering a few words? Are we talking about that much influence over another human being. Is that right?” “Yes. and able to walk to her car.research. and two simple compliments held in reserve that should act like Taser guns stunning her pussy. “I’ve had this feeling from the beginning that you have something that you want from me. Heat. but then something happens behind the blue irises. I knew you were a lovely woman. and I don’t want to screw things up on my very first attempt. “You weren’t problem-solving about your girlfriend. She looks down. I see the corners of her mouth twitch. like she’s fighting the urge to let it out.” She smiles for an instant. creating the drives that brought her here in the first place.” she concludes. “The others believe that your glands are providing energy for you to concentrate. I see her eyes dart. We’re not getting back together. between the brain and body. and now she’s confessing things to me that she’d normally leave unsaid. too. it… makes me feel all prickly and…” “Prickly? What happens when you feel prickly?” “Uh!” she vents uncontrollably. . I know there is. but I know! It’s a form of sexual activity right there on my screen. “It was so incredibly exciting! You can’t understand… how it makes me feel…” “How professionally intriguing it is. I don’t understand what I’m seeing.” Her mouth remains an opened "O" after that one. face beet red. but there’s more to it than maintaining the lucid state and the separation of the light body. I know you are!” “Getting off? You mean that I was having sex in my sleep last night?” “Sort of. her eyebrows showing a lot of tension. and just watching it… I never thought I’d see anything like that in my life and I got… I got…” “Keep going. helping you to focus and maintain the light body.” I encourage. like there’s this… alliance.” I hurriedly prod. you mean?” “That.” Her eyes flash. even squints her eyes shut. like she’s thinking about running out. averting her eyes. Only… different. like she's frozen with the realization of what she just divulged. “I need to understand… what’s happening in your dreams! Your hormone levels last night… In fact all of the readings… For a while you were lighting up like crazy. She’s probably been wondering all morning why she can’t stop herself from doing certain things. But I think your mind and your entire glandular system… have found this unique way to operate together and I… I don’t know how it works. then seems to realize that she’s doing it. But I mean… it’s… sexually exciting. You’re hormonal levels… and all that energy in the brain… It’s not what they think! You’re getting off in your sleep. She looks away. and the smile is forced away. correctly dispelling the lie she heard earlier in the morning. or fleeing to the restrooms to keep from confessing anything else she wants to keep secret. I wonder if she had any sense that I was there in front of her or even inside of her last night. and it… it…” “It what?” “Oh God. giving her no chance to escape. “Ex-girlfriend. “I… heard what you said this morning about your… girlfriend?” is her response.“Tell me what you need. “Tell me what you believe you witnessed through your instruments last night. I can’t believe I’m telling you this!” “What’s so embarrassing about it?” I ask.” I encourage. because I’ve been having a lot of sexual dreams recently.” I can see in the wide eyes that I’ve touched a button with that one. like her problem is garden-variety repression. Mary. getting off from her getting off. I…” “Just let it out. getting me so. Talk about the tiger missing an opportunity. “You’ll feel better.” “But… it messed me up!” she almost explodes. But there’s just one thing I want to know first. “It was like I had this incredible sex life… all alone in the night.” “To m…masturbate!” Mary has gone so red in the face that I wonder if she’s going to have a coronary or something.I take the opportunity to stare at Mary’s tits. and why you’ve been so curious about mine from the beginning. right there in the lab. If I'd stuck around rather than zipping to Pakistan. looking to see if her toasted rose petal insides erupt with color or light or anything else when she comes. I could have floated with her to watch her play with herself. “A break? Why is that significant?” “I… needed to m…m…” “Spit it out. pretending to misunderstand her distress. even as she struggles to keep from saying things. where I… I kept waking up in the night.. No matter. even more magnetic now because her nipples have clearly swelled and hardened under all that red. maybe even passing into her body again right when she came. and another minute of this is going to have my dick ripping a hole through my pants and upending the table. “Tell me all about these dreams. about having intense sex in your dreams one time. getting me so agitated. And then… Well. so hot and… I’d masturbate like crazy. “I… had to take a break last night…” she whispers. you’ve completely nailed me. We might even be in the same place. because I’m about ready to go for the kill right now — it’s almost like her systems are freaking out so much that a part of her is begging me to go for the kill. I’m sure. The orgasms were unbelievable! I… craved them. Last night was especially powerful. It was like I was on fire inside. and real . just… It was like I had a dream lover inside of me. I couldn’t get enough. though.. you said something the other morning that really made me curious. Either what we’re talking about is providing fresh excitement. but… I had no control over when the dreams would appear! I was so… needy… I sought out real relationships. “I mean… I under-exaggerated. because I’ve never seen or heard anything so hardening in my life.” “They weren’t dreams with a story. It was a whole series of dreams… They came sporadically when I was a teen. my… my… p…pussy… so needy and I… Why can’t I… Dammit. “Mary. “I… I lied about that!” she reveals in an outpouring of breath. or her body is still responding to the compliments I dropped several minutes ago. but I want you to tell me all about your sex dream. and what that was like. lips full and quivering. so incredibly hot and… I’d… I’d… masturbate… Fuck. The proprietor. and I grin. There is something wrong with me! I… I prefer dream sex over the real thing. Wow. I…” “A girlfriend?” “No!” “Because it’s never as good as it can be in your dreams?” “Y…yes. a place called The Worm Turns. like I’m… caught somehow…” “Because the real thing is never as intense as in the dreams. right now. “Yesss!” she hisses. just thinking about sharing that sensation with Mary. Until today. when you had sex in your dream the other night. The things you learn about someone when they’re unable to keep from telling you. “It was… so disappointing!” she exhales. And she’s currently unattached — has probably been unattached — and the only reason for it is that no one has ever rocked her membranes in the waking world. “You want to be able to lucid dream and create scenarios where you get molten hot dream-sex exactly the way you want it.” She nods quickly. where you know the ins and outs of things. so raw and sore that we barely know who we are any more. fuck her so hard and for so long that we’ll both be raw and sore. just like any great-looking babe would. For instance. We both have new realities awaiting us. and he also has charming little rental cabins sprinkled around his . I think about what Millie said. Are the gods a perverted game-playing lot. Mary’s had sex. Until me. and could take the sex anywhere you wanted! But you didn’t. is that I’m going to fuck this woman relentlessly. was a fishing buddy of my dad’s. and that strange light catching fire in your head… I wanted to know! Was it the same thing? Was I seeing an experience like mine right there on my screens? And you knew you were dreaming. or what? “Do you have a boyfriend. profound changes already unleashed that can only culminate in my dick plunging deep inside of her molten pussy. about how a snake’s skin feels raw after molting. her eyes moist. well. you let your big boob dream girl lead you the way she wanted and I… I wanted to scream…” I’m finally getting it. And the one thing I can promise myself right here.sex… but it was… it was…” She’s trying like hell to keep from saying it.” she whispers in a near-sob. I’m acquainted with a bait and tackle shop on the other side of town. Bill Perkins. “D…desperately!” Well. Mary?” “No. and every underhanded thing I can do to her. then adds in a thin pained voice: “I thought there must be something wrong with me. you mean. “And then. Chapter Eight — Cabin With a Heated Poole It’s nice being on familiar turf. “Real sex?” I press. and I could see your hormone levels skyrocketing.” I say for her. and the unconscious drives that must have spawned them. Perhaps she even intuits that the butterfly pattern born in the lab is the very tonic she’s needed to turn her consciously prim and proper vagina into a salivating demon of a dream-affected cunt. a secluded room where I can pound her pussy until it’s even redder than her outfit. all conveniently located right between my ears and legs. I can just imagine the look on her face when my hormones and glands and lightbulb brain went all sex-crazed on her instruments. the planes and features so exquisite. She wants heightened sex that comes from a nebulous source. She’s definitely shaken. but it’s easy to conclude that they played a role in her signing on with the LDSP in the first place. because I’m going to turn her into my own boink box banshee. but I really do believe I possess the magic elixir to cure her sexual frustrations. Her pain is real. or what they did to her evolving sexuality and why. I feel genuine tenderness for Mary.property. For myself. however. that I’d probably be stirred with desire even if she were bawling her eyes out. she’s a bit of a mess across the table. her eyes teary with arms drawn in defensively. it’s one of those cases where something is actually happening. though. that her inner horndog is not so different than mine. and what better way to get it than becoming involved with the leading edge of lucid dream research. ready to play the role of the sexual savior by acting on the many wrong and manipulative ideas I have fluttering in my mind. Whether she has any sense of that or not. I can’t pretend to understand where Mary’s recurring dreams came from. yet it has the smell of a cosmic set-up because it’s too perfect to be true. like removing that piece from the opposite sex’s dating board is a crime against every woman who can’t quite find what she wants. There were almost always one or two available even during good times. and only occasionally meeting my eyes after confessing that she’s something of a sexual misfit. I’d like to be fairly gentle with her — until I’m ready to not be gentle at . I think it’s more likely. I mean. a passionate lover only when sound asleep. The comedic element involves the gods delivering such a beautiful but fucked-up woman into my grubby little hands. to there. she sought a deeper understanding of her old recurring dreams. She’s probably been itching for a dream like that for years. Mary doesn’t know it yet. the diner. I get the benefit of thinking of myself as one of the good guys. I can see elements of both comedy and tragedy in Mary’s predicament. and wiping the wet streaks from her cheeks does nothing to erase the air of being haunted by a sexual past that sounds one part Freud. Her face is so naturally lovely. and it makes me that much happier to assume that we form a sort of yin and yang of dream perversion. No wonder she followed me to learn more. and she recognized the possibility for using lucid dreams as a sexual tool from the very beginning. and found it so strange that I didn’t take firm control of Gina Marie’s actions once the sex commenced. I wouldn’t be able to resist plunging my dick inside of Mary whether it’s good for her or not. and I’ve been given more of that than she knew to want. Perhaps. Beautiful as Mary is. once she came to consciousness while continuing to sleep. and once we get started I don’t want anyone pounding on the door to know what I’m doing to the poor woman. It’s obviously tragic that such a great-looking woman would have any sexual hang-ups at all — it reminds me of the times I’ve heard female friends lament that some movie hunk is gay. and they’re very private. fantasizing about every little thing she would do to her dream lover. or lovers. or fingering herself out of a deep sleep. It’s easy to understand why my very first dream with Gina Marie must have sent Mary’s pussy into a fit of dripping wet envy. She wants dream sex. The only question is how to get from here. two parts Rod Serling. learning and possibly mastering a technique for taking control of unconscious events to melt her body in the night. culminating in an outright pajama-staining orgasm in my sleep. but we’re going to require that kind of isolation. by becoming Anne’s understudy. I could stare at a big silver print of this beatific sex-stunned expression for weeks — and I’m not even playing with her when I say: “I can’t even believe how fucking gorgeous you are. I rise from the table. I have no need to whisper. so that I won’t have a lot of explaining to do after her pussy has become a gusher. A heartbeat afterwards it’s like strings hitting discordant notes behind her baby blues. “But… we…” But nothing. dammit!” released like verbal steam from her full lips. I know. When I pull. pressing our groins tight to each other as the heat comes to life inside of her. It’s easy to imagine a teen-aged version of this face with lust flooding in through her dreams. and both hands go to the edge of the table as if to keep her body from leaping up or falling over. a rush of chemical passion colliding with her emotional distress about only feeling passionate in a series of old dreams. Even so. Her eyelids flutter. standing beside Mary’s seat. that you can’t blame me for…” There isn’t even any point in finishing the sentence. But you’re so beautiful. and I… I must trust you… to say what I’ve said. “Yes.” That one pretty much does it. She’s already mine to shape and mold. I start where it seems right to start. “I’m… I don’t know… what’s happening…” Yes she does.” I try to pierce through her fog of lust.” into her ear. now that I see it. because I want to feel the words igniting fresh fires inside her body. I can tell because one of her clutching hands leaves the table. and that I think she’s about the hottest and sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life. “Just answer one question. taking hold of the hand that isn’t frantically teasing her tit. She looks totally lost and oddly defiant all at once. her hands squeezing the table like she intends to crush it.all — and I hope I can manipulate her with some degree of finesse. I’ve wanted you to be attracted. I reach around and hold onto her back. like she’s both savoring and trying to resist the effects of every compliment I toss at her. pressed front to front with her hardened nipples grazing my ribs. even if it’s been a long time since she’s had to contend with ferocious lust beating on her door and threatening to blow the house down. by confessing that I can’t help having strong feelings for her. “I…” she tries to speak. an almost religious expression animating the angelic mouth. and it’s time. I’d never do anything to jeopardize your job. She shakes her head. her jaw dropping as though somebody just released a spring. “I know… you’re attracted to me. she slides out of the booth until we’re erect on the floor. I could end her struggle with just a few well-chosen words… But it’s sexy watching her wriggle. not after Mary breathes out a loud “Hahhh!” sound. because she has no choice in the matter. helpless in the face of the storms of energy crackling inside. and that’s before I’ve even pulled the pins on the verbal grenades held in reserve. this is exactly what I’ve wished to capture with my camera for the past two years. Squeezing her hand tighter. sort of like the . grabbing her right breast to roll it around under her blouse. “Oh my God!” she vents through lips gone full and slack. okay? Do you have feelings for me?” I know what her answer is going to be. and I think she’s already helpless anyway. I suddenly regret the absence of my camera — I mean. then gulps. A slight sound escapes from her opened mouth. “You are so beautiful. it warms my heart to hear the words. “Mary. her sleeping features exhibiting the same glow of heated amazement. Her eyes are closed tight and her head has tilted to one side. I do believe I could crook my finger inside of this woman’s pussy and make her do any fucking thing I wanted. but I do. every bit of you. But…” “I know. It isn’t a compliment about her looks. “Number three will be ready for whatever you two have in mind. my hands slipping under the miniscule skirt to squeeze her butt cheeks hard.” It’s good. says. the whole world has been cluster-fucked by a series of mistakes. which has been gliding along my abdomen and sometimes grazing my erection. but playing fair is also not an option. Whatever the consequences. “I… think I love… you…” she whispers.” as we pass. the middle of her body pressing more insistently into my hard-on. Besides. and she must be on tip-toe because my hard dick presses into her panties in a different way. because I feel something really special with this woman. She mews again — I’m wondering if she’s going to turn into a catwoman by the end of this — and then her lips are on my neck. but why would that stop anything? People make mistakes all their lives — hell. “My purse. I have to take her weight as she arches backwards. holding her up with an arm around her waist. no grinning or winking or eye rolling. making slow progress towards the door. I’m not going to put a gun to Mary’s head to make her do anything at all.” I’m happy to inform her when we’re almost there. aching convex rubbing against overheated concave. winding her tight before driving her insane with desire. *** “I think I’m in love with you. I slow the car. perhaps even a plea. with the flesh of a beautiful babe nearly as hot as the bright sun. Nonetheless I see Mary shiver. the sound of human panting and gasping as loud and steady as cicadas on a steamy August night. her trembling hand undoing my zipper. She’s probably right that it will stir up some sort of trouble if we do this. hot breath whispering. Millie. watching every bit of the extraordinary seduction unfolding under her roof. and I want to fuck her like no one else I know. and I silently mouth the words: “Bill Perkins — cabin. Her entire body shudders in my arms and I smell her excitement like it’s a cloud of super-heated vapor presaging a more violent eruption. then freezes. not until I’m ready to completely set her off. having trusting friends that want the best for you. closes hard onto my dick. pulling onto the shoulder. and that’s close to being a signed and notarized agreement. “I told Bill it was an emergency. giving me the first tactile taste of the sodden furnace radiating between her legs. we’ve already driven more than a mile with my rigid cock poking out of my jeans. We both gasp from the contact. I see Millie staring at us. and so the words don’t have a particular heat-escalating effect.” She sucks on my earlobe as I grab the small bag. She just nods and takes a phone out of her apron pocket.” I whisper into Mary’s ear. And it’s good to sit behind a steering wheel for a change. her hands reaching around my back with fingernails scratching through my shirt. “Give me the keys to your car. I don’t say anything — no more needs to be said. Mary is outright panting now. and makes the call.” She’s surprisingly calm.distressed mewing of a kitten. “But…” The hand begins to stroke my cock. and she pulls it away. and I'm almost in a swoon as I more or less force Mary into a position where she can walk. and her left hand. and most of them were made intentionally. I’m not an outright . especially when the car comes with a special gear reserved for revving Mary Poole’s moody pussy. fingers molding tightly to my shape. it’s worth it to me. arms folded on the counter with an amused gleam in her eyes. “We shouldn’t do this?” she states as a question. voice almost inaudible. It’s good out in the clear morning air. placing my right hand on her thigh. and I have a pretty good idea of what I’m going to do to this damaged but utterly bone-jumping hottie once we’re inside those walls. She just had her chance to escape. and who knows what half-baked misadventures she’s had in bed over the years. going back and forth like a yes/no pussy tease. or she’s worried that her body will freeze up during sex. and Mary looks down at my straining dick. a woman exuding a totally unique mixture of dream-infected anticipation and .rapist — if she chooses otherwise. In fact. but there’s plenty of time for that. She pretty much falls onto the bed once I let go of her. And the unfamiliar eruptions of passion. I’m not sure if she means the car or my fingers. I don’t ask what she’s afraid of. the windows open with a gentle breeze moving half-drawn lace curtains. Or she’s scared to ride in a car where the driver’s dick is exposed. saying no and meaning it. but I ease back onto the pavement. with only a screen door in place to keep the insects out. right where it belongs. The sight of her legs in the barely-there skirt and wavy red nylons is almost too much to bear — this woman has some of the shapeliest legs I’ve ever seen. probably. like the sight of her all dressed up for sex is much better than naked. keeping my hand right where it is. “I’m… just so afraid. “It’s completely up to you. bringing my fingers under her tiny skirt. then less. but it feels right anyway. Positioned with a view right between her legs. I find the interior delightfully cool. I think of slipping her panties aside and delving inside. The feelings she can’t help feeling. Mary Poole is my raven-haired fallen angel. watching her breasts rise and fall with every deep breath. I could turn around and…” “N…nuh!” she grunt-objects. a pleasant potpourri scent filling the air. doing what I’m going to do to her in a room with a romantic ambiance. The cabin is unlocked. “You’re really gorgeous when you’re conflicted. I think about every woman I’ve been with. it’s almost criminal how unconcerned I am as I turn onto a gravel road that snakes under the shady embrace of tall pines.” I hit her flickering resolve with a hammer. The flooring is blonde pine with a log ceiling above and a lovely blue and orange patterned quilt folded upon the wide four-poster bed. When I semi-carry Mary inside. I feel sodden panties against my fingers and the car smells like fresh female musk. I’m not the least bit worried about how we’re going to hit it off. where tearing into them is half the fun. and the stockings and heels make them look like gift-wrapped presents. and how I wanted to get them naked as quickly as possible. and I think we can both agree now that reason is no reason to back off from where we’re ultimately going. her hand closing around my wrist. She’s still holding me by the wrist. urging me to keep going in broken words and breathy wiggling. I know exactly where cabin number three is. I’ll back off. If she can even manage to say it. her lust dissipating once we’re actually fucking. It’s different this time.” she whispers after maybe a minute. slipping my fingers inside one of the tantalizing stockings. sort of. She said that sex was always “disappointing”. rhythmically drawing my hand more tightly against the hot panties. I take my longest look thus far at her beautifully proportioned body. slapping at the dashboard with her other hand. I don’t think that Mary is even capable of absorbing the charming atmosphere of our love nest. and the fact that we’re going where she can’t go without jeopardizing her position on the dream team. lying on her back with one knee drawn up. If she really means it. Mary. That’s more like it. breathless anxiety. Millie spoke of a revolution, the tearing away of former ways of being, and it seems to me that a revolution must be taking place inside of Mary’s pussy, or possibly her entire body, like runaway surges of liquid lust are chasing away a longstanding curse every time I tell her how gorgeous she is. “Take your skirt and panties off,” I insist, my cock pulsing, eager to stir her soon-to-be cauldron of a pussy. “We… we can’t!” some remaining slice of sanity objects, even as her hands grasp the elastic of her panties to wriggle them away. I think I’m about done with listening to what we can’t do. Mary has no real fight left in her — all I have to do is look how both knees have drawn up, her useless panties being shimmied over her heels and kicked away. Even so, how exquisite will it be to change her attitude from too horny to do otherwise, to just fucking out of control? Her eyes are closed, mouth opened expectantly. It’s obvious that she isn’t going to be all sex-kitten the way Sharon was, striking seductive poses and undressing me to give my hard dick a Poole-job. She’s too stunned, still shy and uneasy in bed, her body revved yet the rest of her fretful, maybe barely believing that she’s here. Kneeling beside her, I help ease the skirt away, running a hand over the bare flesh at the tops of her thighs, my eyes delighting in the shaping of her firm legs, and the way I made her dress them up. She’s trembling, even before I lightly graze her soft trimmed pubic hairs, moving higher to trace her hipbones and the flat of her stomach. My hand slips under her top, feeling her ribs and then the filled cups of her bra. She’s shaking more violently now, her breath catching in dramatic fashion even before I’m wicked enough to say: “You are so beautiful, Mary. I love everything about you, every curve, every gorgeous inch.” The breaths become deep abdomen-quaking pants, her legs spreading wider. She jerks, and mews like I’ve heard before, only so much louder. The middle of her body writhes energetically, back and forth like her pussy insists on being a moving target. I see that Mary has a truly lovely pussy, rather petite like she is and visibly swollen with need. I bring my hand out from her blouse, lick my right middle finger, bringing it between her shifting thighs to oh-so lightly dab between sopping wet folds. She makes an involuntary sizzling sound, like nature has equipped her mouth with sound-effects that express what her pussy feels. It’s a beautiful thing to hear, but it doesn’t last long as the tiniest wiggling of my finger transforms the sizzle into deep animal groans that reverberate off the ceiling. I feel like all the normal rules of lovemaking leaped out of the cabin’s windows the moment we entered, because I’m touching what might be the most hyper-sensitive vagina in the world, if I so choose. There is no such thing as foreplay here, only experimentation with how far I can drive Mary into a zone unknown to both of us. Ideally I want her in a condition where she’s begging to receive the most genuine mercy-fuck ever given, but without succumbing to some sort of harmful lust-madness or outright unconsciousness before I’ve hardly begun. Very quickly, perhaps unnoticed, I slip free of my clothes, leaning in, my cheek rubbing against smooth nylon. I open the lips of her pussy with my thumbs, inching my head closer. She’s squirming, squirming just right, and I’m wondering whether I should even pull out my more powerful tools when I hear her whisper: “Why… hasn’t it felt like this before? I’m so… Oh my God, I didn’t know… I just didn’t know…” It almost sounds like a religious conversion, and she doesn’t even have a clue yet, just how different it could be. I could be kind or cruel as I do what I do next, lightly swiping at her clitoris with the tip of my tongue, then telling her again that her body is perfect, that she’s breathtakingly beautiful, that her pussy is like a budding flower, her face like that of an angel, her eyes two lapis jewels. I just keep laying it on, licking and nibbling at her swollen clit, pausing to pile flattery upon flattery, going right at the most sensitive part of her physical body yet avoiding the verbal zones of Absolute Detonation — the stocking-clad legs and her breasts — from last night’s invisible seduction. I don’t really know what I’m doing, but it seems like not complimenting her legs and breasts is the equivalent of licking all around but not quite touching her clitoris, driving her to distraction through omission, encircling her interior erogenous zones but never quite laying my voice upon them, mercilessly teasing her spirit even as my tongue goes right at her clit. Mary erupts with sounds that I don’t even know how to characterize, weird throaty somethings pouring out into the room even more rapid-fire than the compliments went in. Her thighs quake around my head, almost battering my temples and ears as warm liquid meets my busy tongue. She’s coming, only this is different somehow, like coming isn’t an explosion and body reaction, but an unfolding flood of heat upon heat, a cumulative wave that keeps surging, keeps growing. “D…D…David!” I think I hear her stutter-croak somewhere up above. Hands touch my head, fingers tapping spasmodically like the unfolding orgasms make her need to mark an experimental jazz beat. I’m so hard, and so ready, yet also so fascinated by her strange cries, by this lovely petite pussy taking Mary for a sustained joy-ride, somehow flowing with more force than any pussy I’ve ever encountered. I push myself up, needing to see her face, needing to know how it all looks on her. She appears… enraptured, only somehow worse. The hands that had been riffing on my head are now waving blindly in the air like they’ve learned some new sign language for conveying deliverance, her mouth twisted open, eyes wide but apparently unseeing. I’ve never seen any woman look like this, like she’s a red-legged fuckbug being attacked by sex mites from the inside. That’s what it looks like — like Mary is being attacked by the tremors erupting within her body, my dream commands eating her pussy's insides out. And we haven’t even moved to the next level. The previous night’s magical dream-commands surface in my mind and it’s not even a question of whether to go there or not, it’s only eeny meeny miney moe. My aching dick makes the choice for me; after that I don’t think, I don’t weigh or try to predict. I just say, “Mary, I need to see your breasts,” the first step towards dropping a much heavier bomb. Her arms are still animated, eyes fixed on the ceiling like they might beam heat rays that burn pornographic graffiti into the timbers above. Seeing that I’m going to get little help, I grasp the bottom of her blouse and peel it up above her boobs, scrunching the material at her collarbones, then dig under her back and unclasp her bra. I forget to breathe when I see them. Mary’s tits are creamy smooth and medium-large, a bit fuller and rounder than Sharon’s. They’re great breasts in every way, but it’s the nipples that have me reeling. They’re surprisingly long and fat, and all around them, punctuating the darker flesh of her areoles, are raised bumps of more excited skin. I happen to know that these tiny mounds of super-sensitive flesh are called Glands of Montgomery, because they’ve always been a monster turn-on for me. I don’t know how many women have them, or why they get to my dick the way they do, but I just fucking love them. Sophie had them, which made not hooking up with her all the more tragic. But here with Mary, the little lust-nodes are even more numerous and more pronounced, causing my cock to respond like its nerve-endings all have microscopic dicks of their own that have suddenly grown rock hard. “Oh man,” I breathe, ducking under Mary’s prayerful arms to touch these tactile wonders, closing my eyes and reading the brail-like bumps with hot greedy fingertips. My fingers push at the hard nipples, squeeze them, then seize the whole of her breasts, both of them, pressing them together, kneading them like the perfect soft pleasure pillows they are. Mary adds electric hisses to her repertoire of sound effects, the excitable bumps around her nipples rising even more, like they’re tiny bubbles filled with heated gas, needing some place to go. I bring my head in close, inhaling the rosy scent of her skin, lightly flicking at both nipples with my tongue. I love these breasts, I just fucking love them. How could I not tell Mary how inspiring her tits are? Taking a deep breath, feeling like my aching cock has become a magic wand capable of moving the heavens and the earth, I put my mouth right up to her ear, and whisper seductively: “You have the sexiest, sweetest, loveliest tits I have ever seen.” I don’t know what I expected — what I get is like a hiccup of time, an instant where Mary goes completely still, not even breathing, as though every system in her mind and body needs a moment to become recalibrated to a new reality. The momentary stillness is shattered by something that might be a scream, though it also sounds like the word “need” stretched in length and volume into nearly unrecognizable form. Mary’s formerly unfocused hands are on my dick in a flash, and with astounding speed she’s suddenly on top of me, turning my body between squatting legs to aim her pussy down onto my erection. It’s one of my favorite positions, but I’ve never had a woman bouncing her body onto my dick like this, bouncing and screaming, my dick devoured by a fuck-monster frothing between red stockings, wetness dotting my chest from I’m not even sure where. I think she’s drooling, and her pussy might be so wet that it’s actually splashing. I start to meet Mary’s down-thrusts with my hips, but her rhythm is so frenetic that it’s not really a rhythm, or it's a rhythm that I'll never comprehend. She pushes me down with locked forearms, just speed-bouncing with as much force as her body can muster, and her strong legs can muster plenty, her head thrashing, boobs rocking, her pussy incredibly tight yet ultra-lubed, my aching cock swelling, receiving body-blows like never before, being as much beaten by her interior as fucked. She comes. It's a neon sign of an orgasm that my dick can't help but feel, like a hot ocean is bubbling deep within Mary’s pussy, bathing me when she ignites. She was screaming before but it’s aural chaos now, weird sounds torn from her chest or maybe even deeper, like the orgasms are an entity with its own voice. I listen, and watch, fascinated and so fucking turned on as she bounces oddly a couple of times, one of her heels coming down on my belly, making me blow out air. I close my eyes for maybe a second, and when they’re open again Mary is turned completely around, her ass and back to my face, riding my cock from a new direction, giving me an entirely different view of her cock-devouring frenzy. It’s the back of her calves now, flexing and unflexing in the stockings to raise her pussy up and down, her furious screams directed at the cabin’s far wall. She feels even tighter from this direction, like I’m going in deeper and rubbing more of her interior as she goes at me. I feel an incredible surge flooding towards my dick, zigzags of color flashing in my eyes, like my optical nerves are part of the coming explosion, lending their energy to it. Pressure congregates in my balls, unfolding, multiplying, building too much, Jesus fucking Christ it’s still building, making me gasp, making my abdomen quiver, my eyeballs dance… “Fuuuuck!” I think I cry out, the flood armed with kickback, knocking my insides as I spurt into Mary’s relentless cunt. I can barely see, like my eyes are trying to come too, tearing up from the force of it all. I hear Mary’s alien cries, feel her weight pounding me just as furiously as before, and I begin to fear that I’m going to be fucked to death, fucked so hard and for so long that my dick is ground down to mush. Only I’m still so fucking hard, still so fucking excited… I feel her pussy clenching in a new way, clenching like she’s awakened beasts that live deep inside the walls of her tunnel, beasts helping her pussy to eat my cock, adding their energy to hers, drawing another orgasm out of my depths, another flood crashing against the limits of what I can bear, knocking them down, fucking pulverizing my limitations, pulverizing me from the inside, a giant bubble of an orgasm pushing against every organ, heating me, making me cry out for mercy or with deliverance or I don’t know what, I just have to cry, to scream, my dick bursting into her, meeting her flood with mine, crashing together, screaming and crashing, Mary not stopping, her body possessed with the fucking, oh God the fucking, the white hot never-ending fucking… *** I’m resting in my quarters, the lights turned low, when I hear the tones of a visitor at my door. “Enter,” I say, sitting up, swinging my boots onto the floor. I hear the swish of the door opening and closing. I can’t see my visitor yet, but I hear them breathing. “Yes?” I signal, my cock growing hard for some reason. The first I see of her is a foot, followed by a trim ankle connected to an exceptionally shapely calf, raised seductively off the floor. The rest of her voluptuous body snakes into view, movements sinuous, flesh and hair gloriously green. “Oh fuck,” I exhale as she fixes her eyes onto my erection, pushing lewdly at my uniform. For some reason I can’t remember what the name of her species is, or the name of her planet, but she’s one of those irresistible green women, famed for their sexual prowess. She glides forward, body twisting alluringly. Her legs and feet are bare, only a skimpy slip of a violet dress covering the middle of her body. Bracelets dangle at her wrists, the white of her wide eyes and the pink of her licking tongue contrasting warmly against the green of her flesh. “You… can’t be here,” it’s my duty to say as the captain of the ship, though of course I want her here. But if Starfleet knew… Before I can say another word she’s on me, full breasts pressing me back onto the bed, lips teasing at my neck, her hot breath right in my ear. “We need this!” she shoves sex into my ear, one hand on my chest, the other beginning to stroke my erection. “This is our moment, our chance to get everything we’ve wanted. You’ll soon be needed on the bridge… Don’t stop me; there isn’t much time!” She has my cock in both hands now, her neck tilting so she can take a bit of her tiny dress in her teeth, pulling it away. I help her to open the top of her dress, freeing her breasts. They wobble right in front of my face, grandly round, dark green nipples straining on red alert, their pebbled hardness aimed for my lips. I take one in my mouth, sucking, lightly biting. My sultry visitor groans, climbing fully on top of me, deftly lowering my uniform trousers, my dick popping out to tower up at her. She rubs my cock with her hands, manipulating the sensitive flesh with alien deftness, somehow knowing which spots deliver the most pleasure, shooting jolts of bliss throughout my body. She raises her haunches, the center of her thighs precisely aligned to my dick, and I watch breathlessly as a glowing line of greenish lubricant drips down from her extraterrestrial cunt, coating my dick with a substance that burns deliciously, burns inside, burns like sex acid injected into the cells of my dick, exciting me from the inside out, turning my dick into an incomparably sensitive instrument, her exquisite handjob going all the way through me, awakening dormant hormones, vibrating formerly sleepy sperms, my balls swelling, an unnatural amount of force building… I try to cry out, find that I’m so horny that I can’t even speak. I think I’m going to blow a load that will shoot through the ceiling, breaching the next deck, perhaps destabilizing the ship. Just before I can’t take any more she releases her handhold on my cock, grinning with the satisfaction of knowing exactly how to play me, how to take me wherever she wants me to go, making me feel whatever she wants me to feel through the weapon of her supreme sexual skills. My cock feels nearly broken, broken good like I want to beg her to break it even more, break it in two or even into a thousand pieces, each one aching to have its own orgasm. She recognizes my need — she created it — and responds by reaching out, a phaser in her hand. I can’t move, can’t hope to defend myself. She just grins, adjusting the setting, jamming the firearm under the hem of her dress. I hear it pulse, watch her eyes go dreamy as the shapes of her thighs are silhouetted in brilliant tones of red-orange through the thin fabric. Crying out in sounds that match the phaser’s pulsation, sounds torn from a body caught in a heated delirium, she throws the weapon to the floor, raising the bottom of her dress, pulling it over her head until she’s finally naked, gloriously green but for her vaginal lips, her pussy radiating intensely like a lavafed crevice, the dangerous outer slit of a deeper super-heated core. “Never forget… the power of desire,” she whispers, grazing the tip of my towering dick with her redorange lava flow pussy. I feel my flesh vaporize, my cock-head burning away. I scream, yet realize that I’m screaming with the intensity of the pleasure, not with pain. “It’s elemental, transformative, relentless!” she declares. “No object can withstand its force, no force can withstand its power to transform. The snake eats its tail — needs to eat its tail, a perfect circle of cause and effect, effect and cause, transformation leading to transformation, a doorway melting open, the bridge prepared…” In a sudden thrust she slams her haunches down, her molten pussy completely swallowing my cock. I feel my dick burn away completely, instantly evaporated, yet somehow I’m even harder than before, my dick gone but my hard-on even harder. With her head thrown back, green hair flying, she raises herself, and out pops my cock, bubbling and steaming. Only… it’s not the same cock at all. The old one has been burned away, my snake's skin more than shed — it’s been fuck-dissolved. And with the old skin gone, a newer cock stands in its place, raw yet pulsing insanely, making my mind reel, making my balls ache, making me need to fuck and fuck and fuck. She slaps her glowing pussy down around my new tool, feeling so amazingly tight, so deliciously wet, an oozing pussy of incomparable heat swallowing my newborn dick, taut and toned green thighs and calves raising her weight to slide partway up, then back down fast, my fat transformed dick devoured, redevoured, in deeper than deep, out partway, in and out, the molten friction making me gasp, making me cry out her name. “M…Mary!” I gasp, recognizing the pussy before I even recognize that it’s all a dream, all except the sex. Mary is still above me as the green dream-woman was, her pussy every bit as tantalizing, not glowing but just as tight and wet and hungry, a loaded weapon of a pussy, impossibly energized, caught in it’s mission. I don’t know if she ever stopped when I passed out — if she’s even capable of stopping. She’s facing me again, and I fuck back, matching her rhythm with my hips, pounding up, delighting in the lost expression that has her face contorted, her eyes bright but unseeing, all of her awareness gone within. She still looks like Mary, the dark hair somehow mostly in order, the eyes a deep blue. But something in her face makes I just keep pounding. Using my hands to help. I doubt that she even has any awareness that her gorgeous legs are sheathed in teasing shades of red. the sound of a woman receiving enough fucking to almost make up for all those wasted years. full tits rocking. She’s in something like a primitive prayer position. one hand hard on a thigh to hold her in place. going back until her back is flat on the bed and I’m ramming her horizontally. like Mary’s gushing cunt is a fountain of comely youth. Fucks me. she with back parallel to the mattress and arms stretched out. the two of us coming together yet somehow not being done. I shove her legs wide so that we’re both standing. taking her beautiful tits in my hands. She fucking wails like an animal that’s swallowed a siren. using "Mary" as it seeks its goal and fucks it. and I know I’m going to drop my other bomb today. like my spent hard-on has a hard-on. coming with a mighty spurt that draws groans that harmonize with her wailing. her body adjusting to mine. tasting her. one great master-fuck stretching out beyond tight yet never snapping. thrusting and dabbing. feeling their weight jiggle from the pounding below. I pump harder. at every speed. inching her up until her hands touch the wall. not getting softer but stiffer. my cock pounding into her from behind. her head thrashing sideways. But that’s then — now I want to fuck this pussy from every angle. squeezing them. I sense her goal. my cock embedded even deeper than before. lust devouring itself yet never exhausted. pounding into her with all I’ve got. I’m in control now and I step up my speed. my dick pulsing anew.her look even less human than the green woman. pounding and flicking. my cock exploding into her again. and I keep pounding. making me hard and keeping me hard. doing her and re-doing her. feeling her ass smacking against my abdomen. appearing to be embarrassed by the richness of its pleasure. me with knees bent. her palms finding purchase. never giving her pussy a moment's rest from the pounding. coming and staying hard. like she’s become an alldevouring pussy first and all the rest is just a beautiful costume for her pussy to wear. riding towards the city. coming and getting harder. see her shuddering body working to take the position. every thrust pushing her forward. her pussy frothing around me. too. pussy clenching and flowing. a never-ending cycle fueled by never-ending need… Chapter Nine — The Torrent Begins It’s nearly five in the afternoon when I’m on my bike again. orgasms multiplying. It was tempting to just . positions shifting yet the heart of our fucking always unfolding. excited blood boiling to the surface. my cock never ceasing to get hard. kneeling with arms outstretched in front. her delicate features slipping towards sexual savagery. but I know. I raise myself at the waist. pressing forward. I flip her over and she raises up at the middle. making her need to be tasted. the sound of a lost soul. like the intensity of her pussy’s need has stripped her of her human identity. I feel like my eardrums will burst from her incessant wailing but it’s lovely. She wails. risking enough friction that our privates might fuse together. With quaking legs and steadying hands she starts to rise and I follow. ass raised. all of her flesh gone red like the dream version went green. beginning to wonder if I could fuck Mary Poole all day and all night without my wood losing its wood. reaching down and around to get my fingers on her swollen wet clit. her entire body flush with heat. her face buried in the mattress. grasping feebly until her fingers spread. like fucking eats fucking to create more energy to fuck. Mary never ceasing in her need. She claws at it at first. neither of which were available at the time. turning her onto her back. I realized that I want Mary… and that’s where it would get tricky. but that would have required a conscious and coherent partner. Watching her sleep. sharing a chance to get to know each other. and it was tempting to stick around and go there. But more like icing on our cake. it appeared that she just orgasmed herself into oblivion. Mary. Her thrilling nipples remained hard and extended even in sleep. right off the bat. playing with with some of the finest legs I’ve ever seen. and sat for a good long while in a wooden chair. the natural flavors that make her so appealing to me. trying new things. plus some convictions on my part. but if Mary had issues about feeling passion. hanging out to continue puppet-fucking Mary Poole began to feel like I luxury I can’t afford. Mary’s body eventually gave out from the relentless fucking. planting myself between these familiar legs. Though it might have been a good time to lucid dream for any number of reasons. burning the sight of Mary Poole’s relaxed and satisfied body in my brain. aching in new ways… It really did hit me. I just know that I felt compelled to move on. stretching her graceful limbs and placing a pillow under her head. but mostly I just wanted to look. or becoming sexually stimulated. not today. which was obviously more than a throwaway trekkie reference. and perhaps tomorrow. crowding out her personality or even destroying it with too much need. I feel qualified to declare those problems a thing of the past. because I . which wouldn’t happen if I became too overbearing. that I may have truly fallen in love with Mary. which adds a level of complexity/duplicity to my life that might make my head explode if I think about it too much. or on us and all we might do together. holding on to her warm body. telling me how little time there is. perhaps coming to some post-fuckathon sense of what we want to be with each other. She toppled from me while blowing out an extended groan of pleasure. or achieving orgasm… Well. that even if I have the ability to dream-seduce every hot babe on the planet. I’m no expert in such matters. ready to face whatever price I might have to pay for experiencing this exquisite afternoon. From where I lay. we'll get it on again. With my dick aching like it had been fucked for hours. waves of pleasure wracking her body until one of them hauled off and knocked her out. She verified with opened thighs and wailing lungs that I can carry all sorts of hot shit from the dream world to the real one. totally sex-energized. lights out. Every now and then I wished I had my camera. sharing a spoon. just watching Mary sleep. I contemplated all the ways I might play her in the future — I never triggered my red stocking pussy-eating commands during our fuckfest. I crawled from under her and gently repositioned her limp body. I think Mary will be okay mental state-wise. Can real love include stealth-compelling the loved one into loving you back? Can love include slipping out the cabin door. not a hollowed out Stepford abbreviation occupying her beautiful body. So many avenues are dead ends. And I would have gone there. sure — even super-lust. With messages of urgency echoing like that. except I kept hearing the voice of the green Star Trek woman calling from the back of my head. essentially chickening out and settling for the rambling man procrastination routine. I want to experience the many sides of her. She also said I’d soon be needed on the bridge. I’d want to begin by returning right here. rather than sticking around to answer the questions a dream-infected lover needs answered once she comes to her senses? I don’t have the answers.stay with Mary. All of this led me to an inevitable conclusion. shifting straight-up sex into nylon leg loving. culminating in an overwhelming desire to fuck ourselves silly. and a whole host of tomorrows. I felt wide awake. all focused on me. and just lay there in an awkward scrunched-up position. because I want her. her petite pussy all swollen and definitely catching up to the stockings in terms of redness. Lust. I run to my downstairs door. keys in hand. crossing the threshold into dry shelter. and I can't even see that my bike is riding in circles inside the pot. Still. back with Mary where the sun is still shining. I could go to her in the lucid state. Jagged lightning flashes and it’s only a couple of seconds before thunder cracks. I didn’t want to think about this kind of stuff back at the cabin. like a piece of her is inside my motorcycle helmet. thinking I have no more than ten seconds to get inside before the torrent begins. but it’s Anne that worries me the most. I imagine NSA agents combing through the files on my computer. wouldn’t she have a sense of what had happened to her. I can smell her even as I ride. . Several more strike before I push the abused door open. and maybe it would create even worse problems and maybe it wouldn't. confused streetlights feebly challenging the angry sky. nearly blowing me over as I pull in front of my apartment building. feeling queasy in my stomach. It’s a pretty shaky thing to hope for — even if everything worked out. because I didn’t want to pollute the most perfect day of my entire life. little “uh!” cries troubling her sleep. I had to walk the mile and a half back to the diner and my bike. I could try my damndest to undo all of that. pausing on each step to listen for signs of life. Of course I couldn’t completely let go — I told her how beautiful she is several times before leaving. desperate to make up for a lost day’s fucking and sucking. wetting my hair. Or maybe it’s only Sharon up there. too. I hate contending with stop and go traffic when I’m on my bike. it’s a different kind of tension that I’m holding in my gut. Using the stiffness of her nipples as an indicator. my nerves already soaked with dread. *** It’s prematurely dark when I turn onto my block. and I could watch her nipples rise with every word. given her history. something of her spirit traveling with me. giving her a chance to become functional again. Sharon with her greedy cock-sucking mouth is the one I’m sure of.spoke to her as she slept. telling her several times that she needed to calm down. if she feels up to it. I pull up short. and can walk. My guess — my hope — is that she’ll find herself in a condition not unlike the one that gnawed at her at Millie’s. but I think it will take several days or more for Mary’s scent to completely dissipate from my pores. Standing at the base of the steps with the sky opening behind me. either. I showered for more than half an hour at the cabin. which should give Mary just enough time to clean herself up and make it to work. I got the impression that my words penetrated. and the prospect of getting soaked in a thunderstorm is no fun. and tasked Millie with ringing the cabin sometime around six. I don’t know where she lives — I keep thinking that if I knew where she was. because I’ve left some potentially disastrous dream interventions unattended. And crap — maybe my goose is already cooked. Unfastening my helmet. I stare dumbfounded at the evidence of a break-in as a raindrop the size of pigeon poop smacks the top of my head. Ahead it looks like the atmosphere has turned to hard slate. The wind hurls trash and grit against my helmet’s visor. I peer up the stairs. and if she’s lingerie obsessed. or my camera equipment stolen to be sold for next to nothing on the street. and something tells me that with a lingerieinfected Anne Haggerty running loose. thick female storms must be gathering on the horizon. Millie didn’t bother to ask how things went — she didn’t need to. which seemed perfect. which worked out rather well for both of us. and that I’m responsible? I could wipe away her memories of the past few days… Well. But that bliss is behind me now. and the traffic is extremely heavy when I hit the beltway. I climb. A giant cloud the color of a charred battleship looms behind Baltimore. maybe — who knows? Maybe that’s a possibility and maybe it isn’t. Something doesn’t look right — probably all the splinters of wood where the lock used to be. half out of her mind. filled with this awful certainty that the new fucktastic life I’ve been granted is already over. the jamb shattered. When I step inside I half expect to be pounced upon by masked assailants.” she speaks in a voice so low and collected that it’s worse than if she shrieked my name like a crazy woman. she not speaking. preventing me from moving or even breathing. sucking on it with seductive exaggeration. “Come… to the bedroom!” she exhales into my mouth. instinct telling me that facing the downpour is preferable to remaining in what’s left of my world. bringing them down near her mouth. I freeze. and how long do I think I could stay ahead of something like that? It would be better to fuck Anne. “Come here. only it’s “relief” in quotation marks. taking in the clutter of a home with many of its possessions torn limb from limb. a shimmering translucent bodysuit clinging to her lithe curves. her lips planted on mine before I even see them coming. I could try to run — Anne has extremely tall heels on. Did she wreck my apartment in an explosion of fury when I never showed up to watch her parade around? And does she understand how unnatural this situation is? Does some part of her brain comprehend that she’s been filled with alien needs. and steely determination focused upon the bulge in my jeans. only with three dance-like leaps. erection pressing against overheated loins. short of just jumping out a window. pulling my cock where she wants it to go. taking in her height and how our bodies fit together. I almost feel like cursing at my cock because it’s getting hard — is hard. I see a full day’s worth of compounded lust burning in her eyes. but the place is eerily quiet. me not having a clue what to say. crunching the frame of a photo of my parents under my feet. wet pussy lips almost bulging through the triangular opening between her thighs. And if the gods are with me. streaky gray light casting liquid shadows through the windows that slide transparently down the walls. But where would I escape to? I’ve mind-shagged one of the leaders of a team connected to national security. I'll erase some of her memories. Her tongue pushes in and I take her in my arms. slipping part of the frame between her lips. because she’s wearing almost nothing. in a situation where fucking this woman would probably be the biggest mistake I could ever make. about forty-six more than I’ve ever had at one time. heart pounding. feeling the muscles of her back. roughly pulling my cock out. but for some reason it’s the blinking red light of the answering machine that arrests my attention. coming from the direction of the bedroom. I take a step forward and she reciprocates. her hands unzipping my jeans. I start to back out of the apartment. David. lying on the floor amid scattered books and magazines. and the same number as Millie’s hexagram about molting. We stare at each other as lightning flickers into the space. My eyes sweep from right to left. Forty-nine phone messages. “I have things I need to show you!” . I discharge a sigh of relief when Anne steps into the living room. I smell Anne-pussy. Thunder booms and it shakes my resolve while rattling the windows. Anne slowly removes her glasses. tentacles of apprehension squeezing my chest. too. I fear for my cameras and the portfolio of large photographs I have stored in the bedroom. I weigh my options. My breath catches as one thicker shadow creeps horizontally. Fucking forty-nine. locking it in a skin-stretching death grip. and thoroughly trashed. which look great on her legs but can’t be practical in a foot race.The door to my apartment is wide open. then get into the lucid state to switch her hormones off. A fractured deluge pounds upon the roof. and taste fermented need inside her mouth. maybe fuck the two of us unconscious. relentless lust requiring her to dress sexy to get me hard so we can fuck? I take a cautious step back. presumably by the crowbar lying in the hallway. “Oh God fuck me squeeze them fuck me squeeze them fuck me squeeze them!” She keeps screaming it and so I squeeze — hell. spreading her legs wider to give me better access. and I’m sure she’d look wonderful in anything. thumping down onto the rubble of my life with her ass taking most of the impact. her stomach flat on the floor. She’s one hell of a talker.There’s no telling how many outfits she wants to strut and sway in. Gina Marie! It can’t be anybody else because I can’t see anything but the boob. holding on as we fall to the floor together. Anne’s poisoned pussy. She wants — needs — a drawn-out lingerie show culminating in supernova sex. groaning and shooting liquid hip-jerking fire into her. working my hips as vigorously as I can. hearing Anne blurb sounds that escalate into wet piercing screams. I suck instinctively at the firm nipple in my mouth. going at me frantically. which means my desires flew through the ether from the very beginning. her vice-like grip on my cock loosening as my embedded fingers pry her pussy walls apart. an even wetter pussy. The tits squashed around my head shift and a swollen nipple pushes past my lips. squeezing them to her ribcage as I jackhammer her pussy. blinding me with their vastness… Before I can understand it I’m pulled away from Anne by strong female hands. tearing at the flimsy fabric of the bodystocking to grab her tits in my hands. even more elegant and shapely than I would have guessed. never ceasing to jam my cock as deeply as I can. twist. feeling her ass against my front. Mind reeling. Anne has one hell of a body. and it feels like every squeeze of my hand is rocking Gina Marie’s world. She cries out and leans back. like a symphony of wailing lust. It’s crazy when I do it — I’m not a small guy. her “fuck me!” demands breaking apart. I can’t fuck her either because somebody else is twisting their cunt around my cock. which means Gina Marie. I lower my hands on her back. feeling my hands being pulled up. She’s coming. gigantic boobs suddenly mashing into my face. take it as her hijacked cunt knows she needs it. I take her completely by surprise by roughly jamming three fingers into her sopping pussy. making my balls swell. thrusting the full length in with artless force. my mouth press-connected to a boob that must be the size of my head. I’ve always wanted to squeeze these tits. “Squeeze them! Squeeze them and fuck me!” she bellows. wide-open mouth spouting unconnected half words and repeated “Gunh!” grunts. my cock instantly embedded in a tighter pussy. and more female trouble than I had any clue I’d have to deal with. taking her weight as her long legs give out. Sophie. though. reaming Dr. A gibberish talker. pulled onto Gina Marie’s tits. I pull my fingers out and shift my body to jam my cock in her cunt. Dr. As quickly as possible. take it just like I’m taking the only chance I can see to keep my life whole. and what I need is to be asleep as soon as possible so I can try to erase this boner-fide megafuck-up before I find myself in an undisclosed prison cell. boob unnaturally hot against my face. hot hands on my ass and back. watching her eyes bulge. her abdomen quaking against mine. a shop-vac of a greedy throat yanking me towards a violent . pumping and pumping. The flesh in my face presses down so hard that I can barely breathe. something even hotter happening to my cock. Our desires are not quite gelling. feeling her thighs quiver. my freedom intact. which means Nicole Dampley and… fuck. I have her coming in less than thirty seconds and I just keep going. only pulling out so I can flip her over. but I feel too small because there’s no way I can squeeze the whole of a Gina Marie-sized boob with just one hand. can barely hear. drawing a belch of hissy ecstasy from Anne’s lungs. not wasting time to fully lower my jeans. no time to protest or do anything but take it. making me cry out into an ocean of soft tit. fracturing into spasmodic body-jerks and half-understood wails. I wiggle. grasping her firm ass to shove her tighter against me. taking her from behind. so many voices. giving her no time to react. the wet friction of the charged pussy exchanged for a sucking mouth. hearing her “gunhs” run together like a kid imitating a machine gun. the three-pussied fuck-fury in my ruined apartment drowning out the sounds of the storm. my boss being boob-slapped into submission. sucking oxygen in as a knee or some other solid joint smashes hard against my right temple. a high heel striking me hard in the throat. contradictory dream-commands clashing. limbs flailing. or the faint creases at the back of her knees. I hear a distinct “Eat me oh God eat me!” overwhelming all other sounds. maybe somebody else shouting “Mine!” over and over. Nicole’s eyes are wide with horror that I’m trying to pull away. Again I can’t see much of what’s happening. eyes glowing eerily as lightning flashes. somebody wailing. I stick my tongue out. a moving fleshy field of agitated blinking motion swimming in a roiling sea of tits and arms and legs. sending her into fresh screams of flowing deliverance. and she screams. somebody choking. Anne’s hard voice declaring. black walls closing all around. I choke. I feel something sharp cut into my right hand. her big breasts rimming my chin. pulsing blackly. I try to pull my head away from Nicole’s attacking cunt. which I turn into piercing screams just by the wiggling of my tongue. My meat is grabbed with delicious force by clenching walls. I wonder whether I’ve finished modeling the life-sized clay figure standing before me. Raising my eyes. grabbing my dick and begging me to suck her nipples. which means inside of her. a milky glob of cum trickling out one corner of her mouth. Gina Marie and Anne topple onto us. so much tighter — maybe not a pussy at all — reaming itself on my hard pole. Nicole’s pussy grinds so hard against me that it’s like she wants to swallow my head in there. maybe an ass. dimming to black. crabwalking backwards. making me groan into Nicole. *** I look down and see that I’m naked. athletic legs shoving fragrant slippery membranes against my lips. but until this minute I never understood just how talented I am. leaves. Gina Marie’s massive mound lifts off my face — she’s being pulled away by Anne. the tunnel sucking me in so deep inside. “No. two giant boobs smacking together with Anne’s head between them. I look up. nude.explosion. her mouth twisted with fury. A new pussy wraps around my cock. licking at Nicole’s ravenous hole however and wherever I can manage. the front of my body smeared with grayish brown. I burst breath into Gina Marie’s boob when I come. reproduced in exquisite — perhaps even perfect — detail. a black cave of a world with no sights and no sounds. a third blow falling on my ear. pulling another orgasm out of me. but there are screams everywhere. My cock is swallowed by something — maybe a mouth. caked hands grasping tools for carving and smoothing. I see stars. Or maybe my rod is being devoured by the same black tunnel that’s pulling at my head. a flood oozing all around my mouth. filling me with dull sound. a different pussy jumps on. I need him alone! I need fucking privacy!” I’m being fought over. feral grunts and something smacking repeatedly against something else. or the way her . and she jumps full on top of me. Everything is accurate down to the subtle veins in her feet. fucked and re-fucked with a possessive territorial catfight mixed in. Even more afraid than turned-on. it’s hard to tell the difference when objects are so out of focus. wants to force me into her gushing cunt so I can fuck her from the inside with my body like I already have with my mind. My sculpture is Mary Poole. my body shuddering. I hear an ominous thud. and wincingly catch a glimpse of Anne wrenching Gina Marie’s blonde hair. A gaping red pussy instantly fills the void left by Gina Marie’s breast. begging me to fuck every part of her body. see the taut torso of Nicole Dampley with her head shaking wildly. only more black. Somehow I’ve become a master sculptor. perhaps unaware of how her pussy can be made to flicker with lust. not warm membrane.navel turns in. going too big at first. almost demure in appearance. giving them a tad more fullness. but it has no such capacity itself. blooming into a firestorm of cock-craving that she could never have imagined. pressing in and shaping with my tools to heighten the effect of her alluring glands. I’ve given her eyelashes and pores. smoothing everything just right. and use a detailed carving tool at her front to make her clitoris more pronounced. More than satisfied. I move to the front and lean in. I stand. assessing both my workmanship and Mary’s overall beauty. rock hard. The thighs I barely touch at all — they’re already so ideal that I can’t see any way to improve them. fattening her nipple. I didn’t take her tits anywhere near the Gina Marie zone in size. to stroke and hope to hear an excited gasp — yet I know I’d only feel wet clay. I lay a bit of fresh wet clay upon her left nipple. The pressure in my cock inspires me to go further. Fucking wow and God fucking damn! It’s still Mary. and this clay version is certainly beautiful enough to stir heat. The upper thighs are especially tasty when viewed from behind. I heighten the roundness of her rear just a smidgeon. I don’t remember carving it. Everything looks so real that I’m tempted to insert a finger inside. She looks real. I can barely believe I have the skill to have carved its perfect likeness. seeing that the breasts themselves need more mass to accommodate these newly pronounced tips. like I'm being fucked . yet can’t deny. her tits firm and proud. and squatting down I find a perfectly formed vagina between her legs. shaping and reshaping. Moving to the next breast I duplicate the enhancement. I think I could shoot a huge load from just staring at them long enough. a clitoris screaming out both its need and its power to deliver. but I know this pussy intimately — it’s small and tight. an object exhibiting such extreme stimulation that it creates an echoing effect in my cock. for God’s sake. sweet and innocent on the outside. shoulders and back until every bit of her is in perfect alignment with everything else. but the way they stand out with those high-caliber nipples. elongating it to almost obscene proportions. honing her body while growing what might be the hottest hooters ever. tweaking the musculature of her arms. the effect is just too much. She’s so well-formed. I add a substantial amount of clay “tissue”. Mary’s prim pussy is a cock-devouring cum-craver in disguise. I stand back to assess the changes and my dick feels like it’s ready to explode. making Mary’s tits larger and rounder but not artificially so. yet I know how deceiving appearances can be. the whole of her body a true work of art. Below I re-shape her calves only the tiniest bit. waist tight with legs that are simply spectacular. working quickly and instinctively. converging before flaring into that fine round ass. Life is heat. capturing its deceptive nature with trompe l’oeil accuracy. accentuating the way they taper to her Achilles tendons and feet. this clay Mary Poole appears confident. and walk in a slow clockwise circle around the figure. Without realizing what my intentions are at first. making me feel harder than hard. pressing in and stroking with my fingers to further tighten her abdomen. happy to see that I managed to recreate her cock-hardening Glands of Montgomery so perfectly. shaving some away. yet within its depths it has to be one of the most savage and greedy sexual organs on the planet. downright painfully erect. In just a couple of minutes I’ve created what might be my version of the Ultimate Nipple. Standing with her weight on one leg. raising their texture. an idealized graceful surge. Wow. extremely pleased with her body. capturing a completely natural swell. like it’s more excited than excited. but Mary looking like she’s been on a sexercise regimen. When I stand back this time. I slide down and shave a thin layer of clay from her waist. but that isn’t the same as alive. I’ve created my version of an ideal woman. every inch of her tailored to my preferences. and the sight is like a blow to my cock. examining the texture of her breasts. but only because she’s running out of cum. trickling halfway down her left thigh. With her swollen clit and literally outstanding nipples. my hand stroking. like speaking is an unfamiliar action. part of clay Mary come to life. creating a shining trail that begins inside of Mary’s pussy. her mouth moving awkwardly. To accentuate the effect. I pull at my cock and begin to jerk off. oozing out fresh thread from it’s abdomen. ropes of cum filling her cupped hand. she looks so real and so fucking hot. but oh how a series of subtle shifts can accumulate. Her vibrant hands rub at her mouth. I turn around and find the floor of my apartment strewn with debris and shards of broken glass. pumping me like crazy… I open my eyes and cry out in shock. desire coursing through her veins… “There isn’t… time. everything glistening. my cock aching like never before. and catch a bit of movement to my left. even more stunned by the miracle taking place before me. especially after I dip my hand into a bucket of water and bring it between her thighs. I close my eyes. I make out the shape of a giant spider’s web. like it's drowning in sex. up her jaw and cheeks.” she answers. my cock rising and spurting. squeezing. The craziest thing is that this brown-gray version of Mary Poole is not even greatly changed from the original. My clay fuckmate smears cum all over her body. an immense . trying to peer into the obscure corners of the space. my body shuddering. peering behind me as though she’s seen something terrible. fondling my hard dick. grasping firmly to pump at its base. But “just came” has somehow become meaningless for me. somehow able to release load upon load. “There are forces… Powerful. I work on her eyes. some parts of Mary still cold and lifeless. into her eyes… I’m betting that she’s going to step forward. Disbelief mixes with heat and I come again. Oh fuck. rubbing the last of it onto her lips. grabbing hold of my dick to suck me off. this is too real. only the body is not about reproduction — it’s about pleasure. panting. I hear some kind of skittering sound. and tons of it. which is crazy because I just came. and everything it touches comes to life. come enough to coat the whole of clay Mary with a wet sheen. “Why not?” I ask in return. not understanding. I fall to my knees. half-exhausted. and there attached to a wall. life shooting into her. I feel like I could come a hundred times. gathering so much force that she looks like a modern fertility goddess. I groan out loud. the remnants of my windows everywhere after the passage of a violent storm. and I lower her jaw. another hand joining in. widening them. seeing a small hand stroking my tool. It’s just right. infusing her insides with my cum. Sensing danger I freeze. I’m reeling. This is hourglass cum-bunny Mary Poole caught in the moment of having an existential meltdown from the intensity of the fires blazing inside her body. The effect is almost overwhelming — to see her is to want to fuck her. she appears to be about two breaths from coming herself. creating room for her mouth to open in an expectant “O”. lust filling her body. needing to see what I haven’t seen before. like I could challenge infinity to a fucking contest and win. in the hallway. pressure rising and suddenly peaking. inescapable… We're pawns in a game… of re-creation…” I see her eyes widen. my spunk highlighting her form.” she whispers hoarsely. circling the head of my cock. “We aren’t alone. oh fuck. barely breathing.mercilessly somehow. to need to fuck her. my stuff splattering onto the sculpture's left hand and forearm. like all the recent dream lust and ensuing sex has turned my excited cock into a magic wand. feeling like I might pass out if I don’t come. Ahead of me. to check out my cameras and portfolio. the lens. while the spider is… different. a predator preying on a fellow predator. My main camera. like she’s been in this apartment forever. and crucial in some way. I know it’s silly when I do it. not good at all. The place is still a wreck. no real power at all other than the mind-power of my light body when I dream. Maybe agelessness. and sorry — spiders and scorpions just don’t do it for my dick. I’m in a metaphorical version of my apartment. This is not good. My light body has no substance to check the mechanisms. My portfolio is in similar shape. Powerful eruptions of dismay clutch at my spine. confident in the effectiveness of its sting. It’s hard to make out the spider in the shadows. But I do know that the scorpion is incredibly dangerous. perhaps a creature that will become the spider’s food. Again I hear something moving along the floor. going girl-crazy in every room. as in… Shit. instinct telling me that without my help. I think it might have been literally fucked. and there’s a disturbing amount of blood on the floor. but she’s there. no scorpion. not unlike the real thing in that the floor is covered with all this broken crap. the web always present. Still lying on the floor with Anne and Gina Marie and Nicole fighting for my cock? I rise out of my body. doing it all over my stuff and even with my stuff? I may never know the exact nature of the female tornado that ran through my apartment. my body being loaded into an EMS van on a gurney. perhaps where I blacked out. Fuck. and I have no idea which is the stronger — the spider with its bite. and neither are the women. Out there. I’m not sure why I should care… I just do. I’m witnessing something extraordinary here. only I don’t know what to do. I realize with horror that it’s actually stalking the spider. or the scorpion with its sting. hordes of cops and their vehicles crowding the street. barbed tail raised. But I need to feel lust for that to work. a crafty sideways dance… It’s a scorpion. to warn the spider or get rid of the scorpion somehow. Did Anne fuck my equipment and my photographs while waiting for me. Dangerous as well. and the apartment has been in the world since beyond forever. just never noticed. and the blue and red lights flashing outside remind me that I have bigger issues to deal with than wrecked cameras and cuntcreamed art. I have no idea where I am. colorful teddies and bustiers. I blink myself down the stairs and immediately find the real me. black shell shining. my real body is… Actually. but not malevolent. I’m dreaming again. anyway. the spider is going to die. I have no weapons. I catch movement again. but things don’t look very promising. the Leica. My blood. I’m not there. and take that crowbar to my life in her frustration? Or did Gina Marie and Nicole break in earlier. black leather suits of various types. a timeless arachnid death dance. others stained or smeared with what I take to be girl-cum. is fucked. the criss-crossed design vastly more intricate than would be needed for merely catching prey. I’m stuck in a buggy dream where sexual desire is not even an option… Christ. I don’t know how long this web has been in my space — it’s lovingly woven. radiating an aura of… I’m not sure what. and will myself into the main room of my apartment. infinitely patient. but I just have to float to my bedroom. and I see a cop in a yellow raincoat standing out in the landing. photos strewn all over the floor on the backside of the bed. many of them bent.black widow spider. also larger than normal. or that of the women fighting over me? Blue and red light sweeps in through the windows. The rain has eased to a steady . I feel the need to interfere. and there is no spider. Fuck fuck fuck! The bed is covered with a heap of camisoles and stockings. insisting that I be taken to Union Memorial Hospital. Sort of. Anne’s pussy running a fever. and I see Mr. all to no avail… Christ. too. able to look down and see my body withering. to relate with others… I think I’d go nuts. I should thank him for possibly saving my life. He’s telling a man I take to be the driver of the van to follow his car to the research facility. I don’t know what happened to me to make me bleed like that. I finally got my mitts on Gina Marie’s ginormous boobs. Like that wasn’t going to happen anyway. aren’t I? And that’s before even checking to see how badly I’m hurt. but something’s gonna hurt something awful when I wake up. I rise up and track the movements of Eduardo. needing to know.drizzle. trying to reason with her. literally frothing at her injured mouth. my cock in her cunt — I think — and just look at us. for bringing my sexual offenses to the attention of the authorities. I’m finally getting a good look at her. and I’ve been fucked to a pulp. I didn’t know I was actually doing it at the time. Floating over to myself. needs Nicole’s nipples. my landlord. and that includes what I’ve done to her mind. I feel pretty much like dream-shit. Without the restraints I have no doubt that Gina Marie would be banging my damaged body in the other van. because I know in my gut that he’s the element on the scene whom I really should fear. I really do. shouting how she needs David’s cock inside of her. She’s insane. Maybe it’s a horrible thing to think under the circumstances. Would I zip around as I am for weeks or months.” I confess to the woman tending to Gina Marie. There isn’t even any point of asking “what have I done?” because I remember exactly what I did. being questioned under a large umbrella. even if I do have a tube stuck up my nose and a bandage a foot wide wrapped around my hip/dick area. my name is David and I’m a light body rapist. speaking to an agitated EMS guy. fully aware that no one can hear my silly attempt at black humor from in . gorgeous as get-all even with a cut lip and one eye swollen half-shut. but being like this for a long time. A few sentences are enough to gather that he made the 911 call that summoned all this heat. I’m surprised that my face looks so peaceful. I should probably curse him. with Dr. The “crazed babes”. There are two additional ambulances — I float inside of one and find Gina Marie strapped to a gurney. because that’s in his contract and that’s where the crazed babes are being taken. I can see the spikes on a small monitor mounted upon the wall of the van… Okay. It takes some effort to move past those fears. but she’s every bit the super-busty sex goddess I remember. soaked in blood. If I wake up? The idea flashes that I might be dead. making me squeeze her tits even if she had to hold my limp hands to animate them into it. to Gina Marie and the rest of them. needs his hands squeezing her tits. a conscious spirit witnessing its own vegetative state? It’s a gut-wrenching thought — there’s an incredible sense of freedom in here. where laws like gravity don’t touch me. I am totally fucked. trying to calm her down. I could be in a coma. and I even got what I wanted. “Hello. though… As soon as the thought is there. but I did it. her giant boobs nearly bursting through the white gown they’ve fitted over her. and I see the face of the consequences right now — Eduardo. and the EMS guy is putting up a fight. She’s struggling against the restraints. donned in an orange rain slicker. my heart instantly pounding in response. Johnson. Multiple seeds of disaster were sewn before I even knew I could sew them. A woman — a psychiatrist? — holds tight to one of Gina Marie’s hands below me. essentially a ghost. to speak and be heard. I’m definitely not dead. never able to touch anyone. I can’t help wondering what would happen to me if I fell into a coma. the van’s original driver got left behind. trying my best to free Gina Marie and Nicole. experiencing near-death journeys where the freed spirit is bathed in a feeling of blissful detachment. I have a host of superficial cuts and bruises. and Sharon. I’ll do the right thing. and Anne.here. those women must have continued to go at me. I’m not a wimp — I can sit through the grossest of slasher films while . they played the same twisted games they always play. as in raw. Mary too. but that was a fantasy exaggeration. And then. I get none of that — the only lights I can enter are the overhead fluorescents. I’ve heard stories about people rising above their bodies in the operating room. I guess I could go somewhere sunny for a half hour or so. I know where Union Memorial is. which I don’t. fuck it all. or fun… But my body is in trouble down there. And Mary? I don’t even want to think about it. so I’m willing to leave Gina Marie and the others for now. really — not that I used the dreams for sex. no repercussions. assuring from the first moment that my gift came with the guarantee of its own destruction. with no evidence of foul play. and I hover attentively as a small team of doctors and nurses tends to my various wounds. I’d try it on Gina Marie now if I felt the least bit horny. silently promising that I will come back to release them from the grip of my blundering interventions. with some awareness that I’d need to dodge all the speed-traps lying in wait. But later. I need to find out how badly I’m hurt. And is it a total cop-out to feel like the confession is only half-justified. Yes. while this is… red. like the fault isn’t entirely mine? I never asked to have my brain reconfigured — I got snookered into it. And once I know the extent of the damage. maybe even Anne. I probably could have gotten inside all these women. Millie talked about me being a snake ready to shed its skin. but couldn’t understand that it was supposed to be a metaphor. the main one being: Is there any chance of ever being un-screwed. But it’s the state of my penis that makes me dream-wince. replaced by a couple of men-in-black heavies. but that I did it blindly at first. assuming I can find her. smacking head-on into a giant yellow dead-end sign? Chapter Ten — The Bridge They drive me to the lab. and a sizeable knot on my forehead where somebody gave me a good whack. no trail of mind-fucking for the team to uncover. people I know. and it looks like my dick got the message. and know not to trust. I pull myself up and out of the van. stumbling from pussy to pussy with no strategic thinking. enough to know that its problems will be my problems the moment I wake up. when the gods handed me a ticket to lucid sex paradise. It’s not as extreme as when I dreamed about having my dick vaporized. After I blacked out. the puny human cosmically ass-fucked in the end. not even knowing that I needed to think strategically. no real harm — if I’d only known the rules of the road. Until then. and just how deeply life-screwed I am. in fact. but I force myself to. That’s what gets me. or have I dreamed myself to the end of the road. At the facility I’m transferred to a bed on a floor of the building that I’ve never even floated through. drizzle passing right through me. I follow the passage of my damaged body as it moves along Baltimore’s rain-washed streets. and I’m still very attached to that body down there. trying to do something constructive. by people more devious than I’ll ever be. fucking me raw. and I can’t see leaving it unattended in the hands of strangers — or worse. And shit… Sophie. when this storm has passed. my light body no smarter than a sex-blinded bug. I’m not surprised — no anonymous EMS grunt was going to outmacho or out-maneuver Eduardo. not the hospital. peering from my bird’s eye perspective among the low clouds. a whole new set of questions awaits. letting go of this useless bout of what-if-ism. a bright welcoming light of heavenly grace holding out the promise of a better world to come. And I’m going to wake up. no problemo. My dick will eventually be as good as new. Suffice it to say that Anne as we knew her is… absent. Who am I kidding. listening in as an unknown man reads the names and personal information of my victims. because it’s hard to feel desire when my actual body is so battered — I’m afraid to even think of getting an erection in here. though? I’m thinking of dream lust out of habit. Beyond that. Phillips and Eduardo quite easily. while Nicole worked at a Starbucks and played on a semi-professional volleyball team. I find Dr. figuring that it’s time to assess the extent of the non-physical damage I’ve inflicted upon myself. The team obviously knows what I’ve been up to. the exact form of the artificial obsessions. I get a picture of Sharon going mega-cunt-manic when I never showed up for breakfast. too — she was supposed to show up for work at the aquarium today. I hover unseen right above the center of the table. according to what I hear below me. hearing my dream interventions described in language that might be at home on the warning label of a really bad-assed medicine bottle. Gina Marie is — was — a real estate agent in Denver. and they can’t be taking the situation lightly. Satisfied that I’m not going to die. a team dispatched to bring her to the facility for questioning. Haggerty?” a balding military type asks. “Anne has been upgraded to stable. swollen pleasure receptors and clear evidence of almost incessant genital manipulation stemming from hyper-sensitivity that appears to be addictive and self-perpetuating. I can see where it might set the healing back a bit if she’s my therapist – especially if I decide to dream-stroke her mind. sitting around the big table inside the conference room. ” . only to find her passed out on her bedroom floor.chomping on popcorn. but up here looking at the fuck-carnage down there. especially when I turned one of their own into a lingerie fuck-fanatic. and never called in sick. but one of the nurses has lovely brown eyes above her facemask. chronicling how Gina Marie and Nicole both walked away from their jobs in what has been diagnosed as “extreme cognitive confusion and unnatural single-mindedness of purpose. as well as the movements that brought Gina Marie and Nicole to my door. Her personality. assorted sex toys strewn about the room with my name scrawled all over her walls. They know that I mind-fucked Sharon. written in “organic fluids”. her mind is on the same kind of autopilot as the others. I float up to the familiar floors of the facility. although it will need to stay bandaged. and a tight body with a great ass. Phillips also informs the others that Mary Poole called in sick this evening. and might even require physical therapy. It doesn’t get any better as they read a timeline. I’d probably faint if I weren’t already unconscious. In its place is… well… something with an entirely different agenda. her mind. I don’t have a clue what that means. That sounds… not so good. Dr.” It’s jarring. and I don’t think they're on duty to keep hot women from wanting to do me. has receded. to give a penis physical therapy. Unless they keep me pumped with painkillers. One of her friends checked in on her. briefing the same cast of stiff-assed characters — minus Anne — on what Eduardo terms “the regrettable situation”. as well as corresponding hormonal and glandular imbalances. too. Some of the details are different… There really isn’t any point in dwelling on the aberrations. Everything has changed anyway — there are two armed guards outside the door. “What about Dr. physically. because of the repercussions it might have to my tenderized organ down there. that’s bound to be dreadful when I wake up. combined with behavioral and physical markers indicating an ongoing state of near-maniacal sexual fixation. Eduardo shakes his head. ” Eduardo cuts to the chase. but it's prudent to assume that he does. Phillips asserts. because the answer is the difference between the unintended consequences of an experiment gone wrong. we’ll never know what she thought before she became… what she is. Dr. Dr. a deliberate way. or… or even by David. which goes way over my head after the first couple of sentences. “We knew David Sand had dreams containing elements of sexual longing and wish fulfillment. “Do we have a working theory?” They do. until one bespectacled suit holds up his hand and waves the jargon down. and can be coerced into engaging with carefully selected . It may be that Anne suspected. “There’s still so much we don’t know… Anne’s fixations could wear off over time. loading fresh tobacco into his pipe. If given the task of removing his influence from Anne’s mind. Phillips gives a synopsis of Anne’s research. He could be in this room as we speak.” “I cannot accept that!” Dr. worming his way into the human mind. in plain English. willfully. when he is unconscious. and I will remind you that there is no way to measure his presence. Phillips snaps. or simply had sexually charged dreams about them. “Am I the only one here who can see that we’ve been handed an opportunity that goes beyond our wildest dreams? If Sand has these capabilities and can use them in a targeted way.” Eduardo argues. Past that. asking for an explanation of where the dream science went wrong. Haggerty’s recovery must be our top priority.” Dr. I don’t know if the others are able to follow all this brainspeak or not. We designed him for that very capability. at this very minute. “Gentlemen… David Sand is unconscious right now. his light body listening to every word. or she could be re-educated. “We didn’t know these prurient tendencies could spill out from the lucid dream 'reality' to affect others. to anyone. attempting to fuse the dream-spawning areas of the higher mind and instinctive functioning into one smoothly running unit during REM sleep.” “We have a far greater problem here than the fate of any one person. and create a new team to work from her notes. added to artificial cancellation/stimulation of serotonergic inhibition and neuromodulation. but it’s less complete than I would have thought. I generally get the part about strengthening the bridge (interesting choice of words) between the upper and lower brain functions. whatever they are. there is hope of continuing the program without her expertise.” Eduardo grunts. We have to…” “We have to what?” another military man interrupts. and premeditated sexual assault. even if it's a valued colleague. Dr. Phillips talks a great deal about PGO waves. and now we have proof that he can do so much more than observe. he might succeed in restoring her to what she was before. Phillips explains how the team was caught off guard by the degree of cooperation between my nervous and glandular systems. and speculate that some sort of “trans-systemic field of influence” came into being as I dreamed. “We’ll have to process the information we’ve collected thus far.“How did Sand do these things?” the skin-head military guy asks. Ultimate Stealth just as we wished. He is undetectable. Do you understand what that means? He is a threat — to anything.” “Dr. “Simply put. or was beginning to suspect… Frankly. We have no concrete proof as yet that he does this deliberately. causing damage that may be irreversible. with the effects spilling out beyond my control.” “Anne is already lost. unless her condition is vastly improved from what I’ve observed. weighing our resolve. It’s a key point in the debate that emerges. brought out of the trance through therapy. and the manipulation of their cholenergic hyperexcitability. gathering information from our own lips to use against us. They aren’t sure whether I deliberately went after my victims. ” Dr. plotting to bring the program down. “We changed his brain. distracting or even incapacitating the command structure of America’s enemies. or his job. trusted and dedicated… What if Sand had put it into her head to destroy her notes. the things we know. the human body will eventually require the mind to shut down. “Would we even know when our minds have become infected? Anne sat in this very room. Phillips’ eyes… I’m not certain whether it’s Anne he’s thinking about. Tonight.targets… We could be talking the instant destabilization of foreign governments from the top down.” A general silence falls upon the room. forcing confessions… We all know that the most dangerous enemy is one possessed by religious zeal. with these capabilities. And David Sand. Neil. poses an unacceptable risk. Phillips speaks over him. or the program.” Dr.” the decorated general from the other day pipes up. Phillips pipes. one of us. outing spies. we’ll change it back. I am certain that they just decided my fate — or the vice-president did. He no longer has any rights. I have it on the VP’s authority that it is the secrecy of the program that is our highest priority. or to bring the program to the attention of the media? Any one among us. And he is a national security threat of the highest order. I mean. Don’t they get it. and Anne’s notes on reversing the alignment within the brain are untested. “Sleep cannot be prevented. fuck! Even if they don’t give a shit about me. Now. to expose this and other secrets… My God. “Even with the most sophisticated sleepdeprivation techniques. “David received a severe blow to the head. Whatever we decide in here. this program must remain out of sight. a soldier who can fight ways of thinking. We’d finally have a tool that could undermine that mode of thinking. not without time to figure it out. No leaks. could already be in Sand’s grip. not even the survival of the program for now. “We are to take whatever measures are necessary to keep these black ops pitch black. even if it means never giving me a chance to undo what I did to Anne and the others. He doesn’t exist — you know that.” Eduardo asserts. gentlemen — no possibility of leaks. a man who might have thought nothing about robbing women of their personalities. they’re going to allow their paranoia to kill the only chance they have at getting Anne back to normal? I want to yell out to them.” Silence. right now. to talk some sense into them. And any time David reaches the REM state…” “We’ll go into him. They think I’m an all- . Whether this is the end of the LDSP or merely a significant bump in its eventual achievement. that I can’t do anything to their minds because they don’t get me hot? But they don’t know that — I wouldn’t have known either. all the classified intel that could be revealed…” “I spoke with the vice-president about this half an hour ago. “Sand cannot be allowed to dream…” Eduardo begins. between us. I’ve heard more than enough. toppling not only governments but entire belief systems…” “But everything you’re describing could also be aimed at us!” an unknown man weighs in. “This is a possible rapist we’re speaking about. They’re going to treat me like a piece of rancid meat. by religious certainty. and not without the clues I received from my own brain. and could pose significant dangers to…” “To what — his health?” Eduardo scoffs. a menace to everything we know. Not Anne. and I look from face to face. of their sense of purpose. I see profound loss torturing Dr.” “I must object. maybe to help or maybe not. I’ll heal Anne. maybe to keep me asleep for my benefit. because I’ll be dead. into complying. "Just look at these readings!" the shapely brown-eyed nurse says. I float inside of myself. I shout at myself to wake up. a terrorist-turner or a satellite-hopper of the highest order. heal all of them. or whatever the hell else they might want from me. Heart pounding. or an operate-on-the-brain switch. “Raise shields. the ultimate destroyer of all things clandestine.” I command. I have to wake up.” “They’re in engineering!” I hear Scottie’s voice on the intercom. Passion. Wake uuuuup… WAKE UP! *** I jerk awake on the bridge of the Enterprise. white and blue. wondering how I could have fallen asleep in the captain’s chair. One of the doctors picks up. to be behind my eyelids so I might pry them apart. my body rigged with a kill switch. I will never recover. I try to open my eyes." somebody assesses. desire — I want to fucking live. Maybe I would be if I could. my mouth not working right. can't I feel some passion about that? Only I look totally out of it — fuck. "Either that or he knows what they…" A phone rings and everyone goes silent. but I can't. I can read the expression in his eyes. back in the room where I really am. to merge myself to myself. to will me. eyes jarred open like my eyelids were held fast by tractor beams. or held together with invisible clamps. be a good soldier for the red. make amends. or maybe it's the opposite. really wake up. "Having a nightmare. I have to wake up! Wake up David. They need to know what I can do and what I can’t do. “We are under attack. not David Sand but David Shiva. we have been boarded.” Spock answers flatly behind me. Dammit I have to wake up. listens gravely… Shit shit shit! I don't need to hear a verdict. “Too late. getting nowhere. . trying to fit my formless parameters precisely to my body. they have tubes running into me. try to will it.affecting Frankenstein monster. wondering if I'm going to do their dirty work for them by giving my bruised body a heart attack. I’m there in a second. and reason with them. I take my dream hands to my eyelids to force them apart. everything set for whatever decision is being reached two floors above. or a disappeared shell of myself with cabbage for brains. trying to make the light body me become the rest of me. The invisible grip suddenly releases. not unless the fuckers have hot wives and my dick recovers… It will never have the chance to recover. struggling. “Sijuation?” I ask. figuring that never hurts. but it's like they're glued shut. indicating the bleeps on some monitoring device. accompanied by a sudden sensation of vertigo. droning that in fifty-seven seconds. He's reading the time on an analog dial. I expect applause but only get Spock. David? I thought I was Jim. gripping hard. but the doors won’t slide open to let them in. and it finally dawns on me that I’m dreaming a dream.” Uhura interjects. No. auto-destruct sequence activated. and I’m not really Kirk.” Spock monotones the countdown. She keeps saying that — wake up. somebody is sprawling out of their seat when the cameras shake… Wait. and the time was never accurate anyway. but me playing the role of Kirk. Auto-destruct is at two minutes. it’s another stupid dream and I’m David Sand the butterfly-brained rip-raping sandman. “David — you can’t let them destroy the bridge!” she urges. stopping my aimless momentum. She looks hot.” I slur. “They… they intend to take the bridge. Auto-destruct? What the fuck? “Shut it off!” I demand. yes! Heat is our only chance. I glance down. they’re sending a message.” “Captain. that this isn’t really the Enterprise or even a TV soundstage. “Turbo-lift is down. The vessel shakes violently. but that’s after the before. Which means the attack and the auto-destruct sequence aren’t actually happening. but only if you get to the bridge!” “I’m on the fucking brindge. throwing Chekov out of his chair. and I look up into the deep blue eyes of Mary Poole. fourteen seconds. I motion them to the turbo-lift. Kirk sure would want to spacebone Mary with her body showing off like this.” The bridge.” I punch into my chair’s arm. Me too. so hot that… “Yes. let’s all give him a hand. “Negative. It’s a TV show. dizzy and staggering. mind fuzzy. I always hated these silly countdowns. assessing Mary’s figure in the short red mini-dress and black boots. this isn’t real. fifty-seven seconds somehow stretching out to something like two minutes.” Spock responds to my thoughts. emphasizing her point while holding me up. why can’t they think to put some seatbelts in these chairs? In nearly every episode. keep it straight. wake up.” Spock reports. We probably have more time than… . “One minute. The feeling of vertigo returns and I’m propelled out of my chair. so melodramatic. I always wondered: If this is the future and everybody is so fucking smart.“Security to engineering. we’re all going to die.” Uhura informs us. Hands grip my shoulders. Jim is Kirk and I’m not really Kirk. in the dreams to come! We can have it. Mary pleads with me to hold on. the original one. not even digital. There are two security guards standing stiffly on the bridge. to wake up. “The hull has been breached. For some reason that hits me even harder than the prospect of the entire ship blowing up. thirty-two seconds. “Security!” “Inter-ship channels have been cut off. “They’re going to destroy the bridge!” “Forty seconds. I didn’t mean to yell at her — I’m not myself. I couldn’t even flap the flutterfly wings in my head for lift-off. the bridge! There isn’t any time!” “Well where the fuck is it?” I complain. Mary rushes back. and I see an insignia that’s all wrong. not the inverted V of Starfleet but an organic looking “O”. her lovely tits exuberant. orange-red color washing over everything. Uhura lets my dick pop out and I’m pulled inside the turbo-lift. “Lift your skirt!” Mary demands. “Hurry!” I think she means me. like we're finally getting somewhere. supporting — it’s Uhura. that’s one of the dream symbols and I’m dreaming. Mary aims the phaser at Uhura’s pussy and fires. aims it at the door and fires. “Somebody help us!” Mary yells. drag-walking me to the turbo-lift door. pulsing into it. the bridge. determined. because of the drugs. stretching out into what . Uhura moans a Swahili moan. making it glow. which is actually a snake eating its tail. the sound so luscious it makes my cock feel like it could fire all phaser banks right into her. taking me by the left armpit while Mary holds the right. I fall to the floor when they move forward to grind their pussies into the doors. “You shut up. I feel other hands on me. turning the area between her legs into a glowing molten mass of sweet dark fuck-flesh. She unclips the phaser from my belt. Mary trains her weapon on her own sweet juicebox. but it’s Uhura lifting hers with her free hand. David.” Spock counts. right. feeling pretty smart. Snakefleet? Oh. but she unzips my pants and draws my cock into her mouth.“There isn’t any time!” Mary shakes my shoulders harder.” is all I can think to say. Uhura collapses to her knees. I groggily watch the red-hot beam of light strike the door. those cock-hardening Glands of Montgomery hiding somewhere under the red dress. too. voice even. “Won’t open. magmatizing her petite pussy.” Mary reprimands. The bridge. two female furnaces radiating to either side of me. only the entrance to the bridge. suddenly feeling a bit more clear-headed. “They’re going to change you back… They might even kill you! We have to get you to the bridge!” My eyes roll around her boob area. making my Kirk head jerk. voice urgent. Fuckin’ right no object can withstand desire’s force. only there is no inside. dreaming that I’m drugged and only half with it already because my brain’s being reconfingered. “Whoa-ho!” I bellow. sucking like crazy.” I remind them. that went nowhere. and somebody tells him to shut his Vulcan pie-hole. I take control of the dream by floating out of my body… Well shit. Crap. opening nothing. reaching down to tug me to my feet. gasping — I think she’s exhausted or broken. swirling saliva everywhere. waves of heat stereo-kissing my rigid cock. “Not only drugs — they’re trying to reconfigure your brain!” Yeoman Mary explains. “Do you understand? You have to get to the bridge. accomplishing nothing. “Fug. lifting. two red-giant sun-cunts vaporizing the barrier in an instant. making them pulse with white-hot heat. the key conveniently dreamed into the ignition. twisted sound growling from inside myself. The old guy wanted heat? He got heat and I’m sitting on it. bent right into my breaking skull… “Uhhhh!” I cry out. “Where… am I?” I choke out. the air turning to pressure and howling sound that gnaws at me. ride. “Fuck being a hapless pawn!” Mary declares. being eaten. am I?” . pressing. mine welling with tears. waving his arms as if to say “no”. Mary sets my rear on the seat and instinct takes over. She leans into me. squealing rubber as I kick into first gear. opening the engine. yowling wrenching curling streams of turbulence buffeting not just me but everything around me. I see it leaning on its kickstand. giving it any gas it wants. just ride. planting her lips on mine. I could never cross that. The gas tank is her next target.” Sophie snaps. creating its sweet purr-vibration against my crotch. surging at high speed onto the bridge I could never cross. and the engine roars. “Uh? You jerk. “But he hasn’t paid the toll!” the old man objects. She whispers. you fell asleep!” It’s my head that jerks up. squeezing tightly. I don't think I'm going to make it — even my wrist working the throttle feels like it's breaking apart. just riding. beyond even the stars.” I say. pointing at the twin candles and gesticulating. I see the ancient toll man ambling forward. my screams of defiance devoured before they’ve even been uttered. foot working the gears. wind whipping at my face. my body shattering. my lungs caving in. bumping against something soft. riding like the allannihilating wind… I hear distortion. but I twist the throttle. air sucked out. not without… My Honda. “I’m sorry” right before she lifts the phaser and vaporizes the guy. “Shoot him. ride as fast as I can. I open my eyes and I’m staring at the underside of Sophie’s chin. my cheek pressed into her sweater and the plump young tits underneath the sweater. like the flesh is being ripped off the bones. the surface of the bridge itself wavering. letting go. “He can’t cross to…” I think I hear Mary say. have always known I’d have to cross but dreaded crossing. engine whining. the engine catching. “Nine. letting any residual fear be eaten too. “I’m that boring. Mary fires her phaser at the two round candles on either side of the bridge. the stars winking above us. hand turning the key. Her eyes are moist and it kills me to leave her. too. “On thin ice. my legs assuming a riding position. I take her hand. needing. pressure battering at me in waves. our tongues meeting. not in a million years. “Never forget how much I love you!” before urging me to ride.looks like forever. beyond the water. eight…” I look into Mary’s eyes. ride! I hear Spock say. everything including light and sound sucked inside. the bike humming like I’ve never felt before. everything consumed except my hand on the throttle. peering into her curious eyes. or dead-dead. the irresistible dimples. which cannot be. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I try to lift out of my body again. all the people I know. Probably the same thing as right here. “David?” “I’m. in a dream about right here. and they happened. I take Sophie's hand in mine. and he falls asleep on me. being injured and drugged. not seven years of my life. Her eyes convey something that I didn’t see before. right now. trying to lift out of my body. or drugged. My head slips back into Sophie’s lap. my brain in danger. but it’s more than that. I’m dreaming again. taking in my surroundings.” Sophie mutters to the stars. or delirious from my injuries. Crap. hoping to fucking survive… “What?” she asks again. I feel her warm hand on my cheek and I turn toward her. but I feel my cock tingling. watched my parents separate. We’re on the hood of my old truck. went to college and half of grad school. then I’m actually here. I shiver. dream-Mary proclaiming again and again: There isn’t any time… “I… I think I need to lie back down. not convinced she’s real. but I’m already awake. “What’s gotten into you?” What do I say? What do I even believe? It can’t have been a dream. on the bank of Freeman’s Cove. in the dark. I'm in an operating room. “What?” she asks. I recognize it this time because I just saw it moistening Mary Poole’s eyes as we had . other voices flood in. growing. all that the entire world went through — I remember seven years of experiences dammit. absorbing the lovely planes. um… confused. “Here I am thinking this might be a special night. Nothing. Or.” she urges.I sit up. dream-Nicole’s voice reverberates in my brain. What about the research facility. like echoes from another world. trying to see underneath the surface. I surmise. made art and suffered through the aftermath of 2/18… All those things I did. got and lost jobs. fucked girls. or lobotomized. Sophie's face looks so beautiful up there beyond the shelf of her boobs. or brain-dead. hearing my own voice asking dream-Sophie what’s on the other side of the bridge. back then when we briefly had something of a chance. the full lips. I finished high school. ’Back then’ is a deeper concept than you realize. I know they happened. and she softly strokes my brow with the back of her hand. “Tell me what it is. not raw and needing physical therapy. And once it’s there. she answered. if not one of those.” I say. although “here” would also have to be “then”. as though I might find all the answers in there. seeing myself reflected.” I tell Sophie. or perhaps to me. my face too young with no knot on my head. “Just give me a minute to… to…” To what? It depends on whether I’m dreaming. Sex is not the first thing on my mind. I am definitely awake. And just a few minutes ago. I peer in even deeper. or in a coma. and it feels strong. feeling like I’m going to faint. She looks completely real but I'n not here. her mouth and eyes so expressive. vaguely. what she looked like — looks like — and whether I can remember any play at all.to go our separate ways. back now. My mind rushes in all directions to remember who Jackie Hill is. She misreads my expression. And I definitely want things to be different. Chapter Eleven — Déjà Vu All Over Again. They wink impassively as always. or whether this is all a perfectly lifelike scenario taking place within my sleeping mind. my heart sighing as my tongue reaches out. Almost I keep looking to the stars like they might smile upon me. not if now is now. because this is the night that ended up leaving a bad taste in my . and tell Sophie that she should think about being an actress because she’s so lovely. I don’t suffer in that way now. Every instant is not an exact replay. It's all just right. the me I knew trapped in a reality — or a dream — inside a body that isn't quite seventeen years old. my goosebump breathlessness — or maybe she doesn’t. My face and body say seventeen — I did a quick check in the truck’s side mirror just to make sure — but my mind is years ahead of my body. more chills washing over me that have nothing to do with the damp spring air. our separate… times? I look at Sophie. my body heating up just as it should. Only this is a different kind of desire. skipping flat stones on the lapping waters with Sophie. because so many moments that pass are like reliving a script that Sophie and I both read from seven years ago. She bends down. not at all. but that lack of certainty has been replaced with a new kind — I’m more confident. I think I see her cheeks flush with color even in the dim silver light. yet also torn in two. Only now. every blade of grass is completely delineated. but I don’t even know whether Sophie and I actually exist here. only I keep getting these chills that make the hairs on my arms stand on end. and my brain is… just a brain? I am one confused soul. though. The pattern is just like the lucid dream of The Pizza Escape — minus being able to float out of my body — where things repeated the known form of this night unless I consciously intervened to make it different. Here on the bank of Freeman’s Cove. So I dodge. containing memories of experiences that shouldn’t be. then Mary Poole and I haven’t even met. or a more inclusive kind of desire. The twist is that all of my interior thoughts are different. a David considerably changed from the teen version. I feel all filled up. the result of being hopelessly lost even though I know exactly where I am. only it’s different this time. Desire. terribly confused yet almost certain that the truth is all around me. with a lawful chaos that our senses know to be true. rearranging themselves to give me some sign. if “now” is “then”. the product of events I’d rather not think about. the ripples on the water moving as water moves. my mind filled with memories of things that haven’t happened yet. I can. Don’t forget how much I love you. a girl's hot tongue deep in my mouth. eager but afraid. I remember being so unsure of myself at this age. my senses telling me that this is all happening even as other senses tell me that none of this can be real. lips wet and full. feeling so unformed and shy. and we kiss the way we did that night. no errant elements or areas of vagueness — but then I never could prove that a dream wasn’t real. leaving me to compare the patterns and recognizable constellations that I see with memories of what a night sky should look like. but I can’t remember how I answered the question back then. Being here with Sophie is different because I’m different. what I’m completely certain of is that I didn’t make this particular comment before. so it isn’t like I’m stuck with being the exact same me that I used to be. Or worse. From horizon to horizon I detect no flaws. even when I knew for certain that I was dreaming. as I experience when Sophie asks what I thought of Jackie Hill’s performance in the school play. That feeling of vertigo comes back. within a deformed or distressed mind. what are the chances that this night is really this night? I try to lift out of my body again… Can’t. this is a great way to go. pulling Sophie to me with no warning. She makes little cries in her throat as my hands roam up her thighs. All of a sudden what I want to do — alter the preordained flow of events. and I’d be a fool to live to regret this night twice. but …” I remember saying it. emptying the mind of all it seeks answers to.” Sweet on me — it's a quaint phrase. I might be in bad shape in a reality outside of this one. True to form. I think she’s still speaking about Gina Marie’s knockers being fake. When she adds. “You know. until she finishes with “…I’d think you're saying nice things because you're getting sweet on me. looking out at the moonlit ripples on the water. “Is that right?” “You said earlier that I’m as pretty as Gina Marie.” Sophie responds. kissing her insistently. inviting more contact. Only. her breasts two swells upon me. her words the living echo of events long passed. very warm. and in the vivid dream about back then. and I feel Sophie’s shoulder lean ever so slightly against my arm. she feels much closer than ever before. and my body responds. which tells me… maybe nothing. . sometimes I can’t believe them either.. Now I simply want Sophie.mouth. We’re standing side by side. getting the taste of what I always wanted. we’re back on script. her voice trailing off. It feels so right to do it. I also feel Sophie’s shoulder. I know how it will play out if I say and do the things I did then. I’m not sure what I believe when the thought comes. getting another chance and taking it.” “Oh? Then why couldn’t you take your eyes off her boobs. in fact. “If I didn’t know better…” she begins. a lost chance that I’m not sure I ever recovered from. “I know. and suddenly I'm on the defensive. We’re going to be awfully embarrassed someday when we discover we were staring at balloon-filled sweaters all along. She grinds herself against my hand. the touch of her shoulder hauntingly familiar. She pushes away for an instant. The touch of her hands on my hardness is like a release valve. then doesn’t.. You're being…” She laughs. I thought I was being nice to her. or trapped in a dream-coma inside the research facility. I almost feel like I’d give my right arm just to know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m actually here. I feel my heart pounding. Sophie. and I don't remember her ever using it. mouth disengaging to take in more breath. She's enjoying herself when I stammer: “They’re… I'm. both in real life back then.” I shudder with this complete sense of the déjà vu creeps. “That’s twice tonight you’ve told me that you think I’m really pretty. because after a brief sidetrack. an experiment aimed at seeing what is possible — has completely changed. “You know me. I’ll bet my parents are closing up the diner right now. both of her hands seeking the shape of the erection that we both know is there. just as I did then and have ever since. maybe stuck in a state of dreamanesthesia. as opposed to being back there. I can see that Sophie likes having put me there. and a louder throat-moan when I press hard enough into her delta that I know I must be opening her up underneath her jeans. our hearts hammering together. no matter what. but the silence isn’t tense or distant. her tongue seeking mine as her body boomerangs. I wouldn’t keep repeating it if it weren’t true. Not like I believe that.” She goes silent for a bit after that. when mine were right in front of you?” “Well…” Shit. almost roughly. but screw it — if I am. wetness… She sighs when I finger her. dipping underneath to cup my balls. her eyes still raised. but she’s also relatively inexperienced. carefully. I sense her insecurity — as far as I know. or nearly the first. but I’m not now. her other hand clutching at mine. looking down at my erection. kneading her and needing her. This is all new — none of this transpired before. offering her pussy to direct contact.” when her tongue takes it’s first light taste. She must assume that I’m similarly inexperienced — and I was. so moving… This can’t be real — I’m about ninety percent certain that it’s not — but the warm wet of her mouth snailing around my thick meat. “Oh jeez. She slowly squats. almost cold. not out here. gently kneading the wet terrain. nothing ongoing or serious. and they were experimental unions. unsnapping the snap above to let a small hand flatten to my abdomen. resting her head on my chest. “I’ve… wanted this!” she exhales. yet I don’t know where events are leading me. my width spreading her cheeks. “Jeez. wishing to see the results of her efforts on my face. pulling at my jeans. I say. My underwear are white — they look silly to me. this is the first time she’s given head. pulling just slightly. David!” Sophie repeats. to the impulses screaming inside my body to jam my hand inside Sophie's silken panties. circling as they can. She looks up into my eyes when her tongue reaches out. though. but they’re already quite impressive.” she whispers. She’s breathing rapidly through her nose. her fingers exploring. forcing it inside the waistband of her jeans. she’s only had one. pulling the zipper down. staring eyes to eye. not in this way. her tongue flicking underneath. her young firm flesh pale before me. and I'm a lot for a mouth to take in. and only when we have a bed of cotton to sink onto does her mouth seek my cock again. seeking confirmation of what feels especially good. gliding down until its flow is interrupted by hard hot horizontality. almost hypnotically round. fingertips touching hotness. lips wiggling. It’s chilly. like I’m being mouth jellyfished. I place my hands on the back of her neck. She goes at me slowly. and can just respond to the moment.Sophie lowers my zipper. lightly caressing it with both hands. my shirt and T-shirt pulled away and thrown to the ground. and everything feels good. her hands manipulating my sensitive flesh to make me need her even more. I know that Sophie is not a virgin. I know. “Oh yes. lowering them to my knees. giving me a tentative squeeze. saliva giving me a slow-motion hot bath… I’m beginning to hyperventilate when Sophie slips me out. . my cock throbbing in her hands. hotter. which is so normal that I’m reassured. My jeans and jockeys become history within living history. arranging our clothes into a makeshift ground cover. She keeps looking into my eyes. unclasping her bra and letting it fall away. She unclasps them. Holy fuck her mouth feels like liquid silk. She undoes her jeans completely. affectionately kissing the tip of my dick. David. lips slowly engulfing my cock-head. so welcoming. bringing her head in line with the ramrod thrusting out like nobody’s business. not yet aware of how fabulous it feels to me when she does the things she's doing. Her mouth goes at mine again. She's hesitant. bringing them down with her panties. stepping out until she’s completely naked. but I don’t care any more than she does. but she stands. Her tits are wonderful — they’ll get even bigger. boy underwear from the past glowing silver in the near-dark. almost walking the entire length of me. I’m repeating a night I lived and have dreamed about. Her fingers mold themselves to the shape of my cock’s base. Sophie kneels down. letting her know how I want it. If I have my facts straight. I don’t want her to stop. taking in more of me this time. apparently caught off guard by what she sees. almost undulating. pulling her sweater over her head. tongue pressing harder. maybe two lovers before. Her jaw unhinges. guiding her forward with reassuring slowness. I can see the moment when the lightbulb brightens. the textural Glands of Montgomery slightly less plentiful. somehow knowing I can do it. the sounds going more liquid. “Uh! Oh God. trying to take all of it. She’s a natural tease. my mouth going to her left nipple. liking the feeling of power over me. I call out her name. dabs. my head thrashing from side to side. pulling harder. hands wrapping around the base of my cock. cheeks sucking. feeling my cock swell. only the areoles are wider and paler circles. She struggles a little to take me in all the way. lips pulling and twisting. so creamy and pale. her pussy so tight. when experimentation changes to a kind of ownership. a gifted tease. head bobbing. “I’m going to suck you off. like she’s just realized that she can give an orgasm. liking it even more when I hiss or groan. and she doesn’t hesitate. this time with her lips touching the tip of my dick. She grins a devious grin. each time with her lips and tongue doing a tiny bit more. She no longer tells me what she's going to do because she's doing it. a rope of cum leaping up at her nose as cum she’s already taken in trails from her lower lip. her pussy worming frenetically around my pole. Her hands clutch at my cock.” she repeats. I ease her onto her back. her fire blazing like she has clits for tits. Sophie. and her hips grind against me like I just discovered a secret on-switch. her body wrapping its heat to mine. oh fuck. They’re so much like Mary’s. penetration still a relatively new experience. She slowly pumps the flesh. my body in her hands. I get a flash of her head disengaged from my shining cock. don’t be afraid of hurting me…” Her eyes smile for an instant. her lips puckering. David! I… Oh my God. driving her mouth down my length a little more each time. sliding in the wet from her mouth. And then the salty mouth is on my neck. the sounds involuntary. her tongue circling. with the inspiring nipples that mostly eluded me before. losing any fears that she doesn’t know what she’s doing because oh God does she know. cock expanding. and she says it again. going for it. my balls ache. oh my God…” I’m not sure what’s happening — I’m touching Sophie’s nipples. her head still bobbing. “I’m going to suck you off. a novice getting better at cocksucking by the second. teasing it with my tongue… “Uh!” she cries. her hands clamped. has she figured it out. not less. This is Sophie. pulsing insistently like even after coming I’m getting more erect. my cock twitching. “Yes. pumping. peering up into my eyes.” I encourage. adorable dimples deepening as her hands becoming more active. moaning as my cum spurts into her mouth. fucking Sophie. making me cry out. her tongue cunning in the way it flicks. my cock hot and pulsing in her mouth. liking it when my dick jerks expectantly. I hiss.” I urge her on. warming her and loving her warmth. I start with her breasts. I keep coming and she keeps swallowing. the pressure building… “Oh God Sophie. my cock still eerily hard. allowing saliva to flow onto me. “Use your hands. finding it still hard and wet. her lower body jerking. more forceful. Knowing what I want. and again. Sophie!” She tears the orgasm from me with a long wet tug.” she whispers. my fingers starting to tingle electric and numb. grasping it and gently pulling. failing. tapping the tip of her nose. I stroke one nipple with my fingertips. squeezing tight. And all the . “Yes!” She says it again. the sucking ramping up.“Keep going. I take her in my arms. licking at my tip with her tongue. give it even more. making her howls turn to a scattered growling. and it’s only when we’ve come to a rest.while the breathy “Uh!”s. heat meeting heat so deep inside this bizarre opportunity to fuck a perfect peach of a desperately needy pussy. opening her up further without even pumping yet. like an animal fighting for its life in the night. like she's going back in time. cleaning up as we can to go home. Home. Sophie coming yet again. Real or not. coming again. I’m not sure which feels stranger — that I’ll slip into my bed under my parents’ roof. going for it just like I went through all the gears on my bike on a bridge that couldn't be there. mixing with the moonlight. or real if I've somehow retained something from what happened before. soundwaves of passion glancing off the ripples in the cove. louder this time. her pussy expressing nothing but more. my balls still super-heated. where our parents live. her eyes even wider. just keep pounding. my dick still hard as stone. her hips thrusting to egg me on. the enhancements still enhanced. Sophie asks me to stop a block away from her house. Though she can’t say it. I’m being begged to fuck her hard. Her screams turn to owl-like whoops before I’ve even hit my stride. I feel myself hardening more inside of her. and she’s already reeling before we’ve even started fucking. why did I never get to see this look on her face before? I pound into her. her eyes roll back until nothing but the whites show. forehead wrinkling from the absurdly wide eyes. I don’t know who Sophie fucked before. gifted in this version of the past by the backward reach of the butterfly-brained dreams to come… *** The moon is high and blue-white. either coming in a dream or coming like I never could before those dreams. She cries out again. the dimples sucking in even though her smile is more about being stunned. impossibly hard unless this isn't real. and her pussy is clenching around me like it never wants to let go. too. can’t hope to form the words with her distorted mouth. the water just as cold as the air. but they weren’t this big. The thing is. just going and going even harder. future-estranged mother and father still together. my lost love from the past finally found. I’ve never been held this tightly before. the glow of my brake lights rimming . crying our cries. because in only two thrusts she’s screaming for all she’s worth. finally taking me hard and deep. legs clamping around my back. or they never went this deep. the two of us hurling liquid fire against each other. everything be damned. I know it and she does too. still alive. this is going to be one fabulous pussy-reaming. faster. calling out my name. Her face is beet red. her expression a mixture of shock and need. her boobs rocking. fuck her fast and deep. like her wet cunt is a greased too-small glove managing to contain me without ripping. I go slow inside of her — for about ten seconds. and she can’t hide the shock at what she’s feeling in there. We cling together. more and more and more… When Sophie comes. or that Sophie will go back to her parents’ place behind the diner. her eyes sort of crazed. We dip my T-shirt into it. where a younger version of Millie resides with Dan. into a place of wonder where impossible pleasures are real and true. D…David!” sounding out over the waters. so big and wide that she suddenly looks like a child version of herself. “David. a new wave of deliverance building inside of me. God fucking damn. being devastated. her fingers digging into my arms as her eyes roll back further. using a tiny piece of the Chesapeake Bay to rinse the sex from our bodies. Driving back into town. rolling on cotton and dirt. consequences be damned. "You have one sexy penis. what I mean is… I wanted you — I've wanted you. lightly rocking back and forth." she finally lets it out. “What?” “I… I don’t know if I could have lived with myself if we hadn’t gone all the way tonight. even if the circumstances could be a complete fabrication. And maybe I do.” I say. too. like remembering the feeling of my hands and tongue there is bringing it all back." she adds. but that’s nothing compared to the cluelessness I’m living right now. placing her hand on my groin. I think I can recall what I aimed into a dream-Sophie several days before — or half a dozen years from now. . I’ve been… you know. and make some semi-lame comment about how much she turns me on. like she's preparing to get out. “I love you too. depending: You need to fuck me tonight. "I didn't know guys could do that. I don’t know fucking anything any more. it just doesn't quit!" A completely honest response would be: "Yeah. Only she's breathing heavily. horny before. We might have been overdue. then disengaging. a dark feminine shape moving briskly under a canopy of eternal stars. No excuses. kissing me with a bold and probing tongue. When my hands and lips touch your nipples. Sophie kisses me again. believing the words to be true. I sit there with the engine running. watching my Big Regret." "No. expression shy. and I’m finally alone. But I… I just went crazy inside! I needed you! Kind of… desperately?” “I understand.her face with red. It's a pretty half-assed answer. just insufficient. David. She rests with her back to the passenger door for a moment. "So many times. and beautiful… But shit." "We were both ready. something happened. watching her wonderful rear sway in the headlights. She leans down and whispers. "I mean. and I'm sensitive there. maybe only a quarter-assed. When she gets out of the truck. breathing out that she loves me." I state. Could it be? I don’t know. and looking like she can't decide whether to say something. get smaller and dimmer. too. I noticed that. it's big. since I barely even believe I'm this age. no delaying this time. banging the fuck out of you. “I love you. “This is going to sound weird…” she whispers. and waves. without some sort of… Aren't you supposed to need a rest period?" "I'm seventeen. that she leans into me with two hands on my cheeks. I was a blundering dream idiot just the other day. and you have to have my cock buried deep inside your pussy. Sophie Moran.” giving the throbbing loved one a goodnight squeeze. When she reaches her parents’ door. arms under tits. the desires inside of you become overwhelming. which resurrects the beast between my legs in about half a second. Which is true. she turns. But once we got started and you…” She hugs her body.” I say. As she sits there in the passenger seat. “When you kissed my breasts… I mean." Instead I just shrug my shoulders. like that says it all. If I’m even here. Returning to the faster roads. where I find myself. their reflective whiteness glowing blandly on the deep green field of an exit sign. I could be anywhere. what would be the point in keeping me around? They’d put me somewhere hidden. Or. anyway. the whole LDSP not yet a blip in her brain. the show suddenly over. tuning to a pop station where the music is all old music. untouched by the riots. Who knows what they did on those floors before the program came into being — I don’t know all the history. with the knowing ahead. *** I don’t go straight home. driving along the manicured streets in the nearby cookie-cutter housing developments. Pepper mostly so I have something to do with my mouth. that the prime minister of Great Britain still has the initials of a disease. dreaming that I’m out here on the road in another time. I guess — if they turned my brain into vegetable matter. not unless it's the date a relationship breaks off because someone forgot Valentine's Day four days before. It’s too freaky. And then pro basketball scores. not yet. the chances of my ever entering that building seeming like several million to one. which make me laugh because I already know who’s going to win the championship this year. and I don’t think I’m ready to hear them. waiting to see what I’m going to see. can I? Not unless I wake up. because my heart is beating too fast. and the next. . perfect tinder for torches lit with anger and desperation. realizing that I've fallen in love for the second time in one day.Alone. one more invisible victim of the War On Nuclear and BioTerror. parching their dreams until they and all their possessions are dried out. getting a Dr. A couple minutes further on I pull to the shoulder and stop. or a junior researcher somewhere. and I’m merging onto an all-too familiar highway. I get the sense of an immense quiet. I could be inside the building right now. I don't know how to be with that. I shake my head when I come to the area where the box stores sit closed but tranquil. either letting me rot slowly or seeing to it that I don’t stick around too long. The research facility is over there through the trees — the building. but Anne could be a student right now. the stock market up with nobody having a clue how fast what goes up can come down. peering towards myself with no way to know that I’m doing it. the thought of just strolling into my old house like I belong there. believing in upward mobility. or just die. anyway. stopping to buy gas at a ridiculously low price. I can’t really be sure. I shudder. when the middle class hadn't been gang-banged and gas was affordable. the flames. I drive towards Baltimore instead. I try to distract myself by turning on the radio. I can't resist turning off the highway. like tonight is just another night back then where everything is normal. I’m not quite sure where I’m going… Yes I do. If they’re real. If she’s real. The people living here are hopeful. with people sleeping tranquilly under intact roofs. I’m afraid that without it I’m going to start talking to myself. not seeing that a glass ceiling can blow down upon their trimmed lawns like an ill wind. One of my days. or shoved me into a comatose state through which I dream this reality. The Iraq War is still going. Traffic seems unnaturally heavy for this late at night — I guess I’d forgotten how many people drove cars back now. To my ear it sounds like the wrong guy is president. the date 2/18 representing nothing. the news recap at the top of the hour all old news. just needing to collect my breath. what I do see just a few miles in — the letters NSA. and the next. giving voice to some of the loopy ideas swimming around in my brain. That's . Pepper. I jerk awake — it's my alarm going off. but I want to know what will happen when I sleep. I’m teen-aged David Sand. one last memory flashing in drawn-out time while all that potential — or hell. and there’s nothing there but another spider dream. To the naked eye it looks the same. My brain hurts. I jump out of bed. will I dream? Will I lucid dream? And if I lucid dream. and the overall composition is altered. it probably is. Considering the alternatives I can easily dream up. we’ll see when the time comes. I’m kind of grateful for being pooped out — I probably would have driven to my apartment building. the locations right even if the timing is all wrong. I have a couple of seconds of total disorientation. with the faint stubble on my jaw a little too peachy. repeatedly protesting… Yet she. if there's any way I can. With her devotion the pattern is restored… Almost. *** I watch the black widow spider carefully weaving her web.A memory surfaces. Maybe that should fill me with anxiety. or the shadow of a bee. I should write it down. to think about his life. I just want to fucking know. is subject to the patterns within her web. needing to see the places I know. contemplating whatever he felt the need to contemplate. Each thread is arranged where it was always meant to be arranged. Only the wind is free. I hear the spider crying out in alarm. time stops for him — as I remember it he sees the stilled smoke of the guns. all crunched into one miniscule moment. This is still my bedroom in my parents’ house. even my life — ebbs away. Yet there are times when strange winds snap one of the lines. where I remember falling asleep at three in the morning. everything frozen. When he's executed and the guns fire. Thinking of dreams. Fuck. whichever time that is. and mentally work out all of his unfinished projects. the intersections carefully planned. he got to live out more of his life inside his own mind. can I still work the lust magic that got me into all that trouble in the first place? And when I wake up… Fuck knows where and when I’ll be. but a little too lean. I try to remember any I might have had as I shower. hovering motionless on the ground. and the irony almost hurts. It’s plausible that they’re clipping my butterfly’s wings at this very moment — a miraculously extended moment — and reliving this night is what the death-throes of a deflating brain look and feel like. No tear can be faithfully replaced at a molecular level. which was the moment of his death. coming to the area where the order has been disturbed. perhaps it's even the same within her superior vision. though. her multifaceted perspective. and think I have it. carrying her beeps of protest to my ears. and a new pattern exists. I look at the building again. A short dream — I don't even know where I was in it. mending the tear or oozing out a new line in place of the old. I think I’ll trust that reality more than I trust this one. instead I just feel fatigued. If I can sleep. But it is not identical. and there was a wonderful image of a bee. and look in my dresser mirror… I’m still too young. I try to remember the particulars. Wherever/whenever it is. And then… Well. add one more possibility to the long list of where right here could be. and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. looking all around. In other words. And if I can. The spider is meticulous in maintaining her web. the pattern set. or if I was in it. I think what I really need to do is go home and go to sleep — sure it will feel bizarre under that roof with my parents in the next room. to the university and even the pool hall I frequent. then sit up. even after the Dr. too. I read a brilliant short story by Jorge Luis Borges in college — which possibly hasn't happened yet — about a guy condemned to die by firing squad. I’m me. And he came to understand that God had granted him the passage of a year's time within frozen time. I deliberately narrow my focus to what's right in front of me. or my good cameras. because I have to become acquainted again with my clothing choices. and God help me when I’m sitting in class today. Mary. Freshly frustrated by not knowing what's true. Only… shit. Shit. He shouldn’t have died — everyone always said that. I fix coffee and put some granola with strawberries in a bowl. I think I have to try. where I have a book report due and I never read the book. a recurring pattern. and watch the world go to hell again. I’ve lost everything I ever owned and most of the non-childhood things I've done. I don’t have my own place. and my balls are definitely enlarged. I'd swear that it's a little bit bigger than it used to be. and I wouldn’t have any way of proving it when I can’t even prove it to myself. which Mary would almost certainly say is significant. that his death was just plain wrong. and I did nothing… I can’t do nothing. It takes me a while to get my things together. I’d have to repeat the whole shebang again. . If last night was The Pizza Escape night. right here in town. and sit on the front porch steps in the morning sun. Curious about the ferocity of my erection. But Dan is different — he’s Sophie’s dad. or I could actually be going to school. She wouldn't believe me for one thing. I examine my penis. because what are the assignments. then Dan will be dead in a couple of days. only they’re not here. or my motorcycle.two spider dreams. and his hour of need is nearly here. and my dad would be reading the paper. and his loss was devastating to the entire community. because it all looks like gibberish. If this is real and I know what I know. Everything is quiet down in the kitchen — normally my mom would have cereal out. but he’s a friend. I'm just generally too big down there. including my high school diploma. I get hard thinking about her. although I can’t see myself telling Millie or anyone else that I’m from the future. so hard that I have to grit my teeth to not jerk off in the soap and spray. drowned in a boating accident. I can’t let that happen — can I? How would I stop it? And if I could stop it. Or my history. I heard my dad snoring in their bedroom when I slipped in last night — they’re here. and that's a fact — almost. getting ready for work in the patterns I remember. I don’t remember exactly what I own and what I don’t own. the night I didn’t make love with Sophie the first time around.” I hear my mom say behind me. being this age again if that never changes. my college degree. who gives a crap how I score on any test? It’s either unreal. or there’s a test in front of me and I must have blanked on the need to study for it. which is getting ready for school. when are the tests. and who’s to know the difference? It’s funny — either way. I could be dreaming something like that right now. watching disasters repeat themselves… I stop eating. because I think of Dan. It will change — I didn’t stay this age before. my books and bags. what other things should I try to prevent? My parents’ divorce? The 2/18 attack turning Australia into a lost continent? I don’t even want to go there when I’m not convinced that this reality is really real. I never got as close to him as I did Millie. trying to decide whether I can live like this. and can I even remember half the names of the teachers and classmates I’m supposed to know? I’ve had dreams like that. or I already know that a few fractions up or down on my GPA are meaningless to my future. and it’s safe to assume that I won’t now. knowing the crap to come ahead of time. A mistaken detail that proves I'm dreaming this? Symbolic phaser-heated candle-balls made flesh? Fuck if I know. “Beautiful morning. and it’s the weirdest feeling. “Saturday is up. absorbing their vastness. did it? The blue and gold of her uniform shines brightly in the sun. That’s right. too. dressed in one of the ways it should have been illegal for her to dress.I stand up. I can see that I’m starting to believe in all of this. My mom looks like an imposter. and dressed in a bathrobe. the way they jut out like they know how incredible they are. too. The pecker in question must be learning-disabled. I look at the cup in my hand. knowing how this blonde gazonga-goddess ended up begging me to squeeze those monster tits. feeling like an imposter when she steps outside. and my ass is beginning to get uncomfortable on the hard wood of the porch. what was nature thinking when it granted this girl a set of whopping wonders like that? I think they were even huger in my apartment back in the future. You don’t think I deserve a weekend?” Saturday! What a fucking relief! “When did you start drinking coffee?” she asks. My mom just behaved like my mom. marveling at the way they move. She gives me a knowing look — I’m pretty sure it’s one of those “mother always knows” things. “I saw you at The Pizza Escape last night. am I supposed to boycott everything I see happening around me. listening to the birds. I shift uncomfortably. but I never got to stare at them like this. which was about the extent of our communication at this age. not her work clothes. really? If tomorrow follows today just like today seems to be following yesterday. and our eyes meet. thinking some things over. even though I don’t think we ever had that particular exchange. I ask her what’s up.” she adds. concerned that my dick is going to stand up and salute so exuberantly that it will make a fool out of me. My mom asks if I want some eggs and bacon. Sitting there. I’m looking up at her. The boobs are not where I expect them to be. to get a good long peek at those boobs stretch-torturing her uniform top. I give a shoulder-shrug for an answer — I think I did that a lot back then. all dressed up in her cheerleader’s uniform. And what choice do I have but to believe. because it’s tingling with the same energy that was its undoing before. and Jeezus Louizas. and I tell her that I just want to sit out in the sun.” Gina Marie says. the same wish there as always. brushing away the yellowjacket that arrives with an interest in the strawberries in my cereal bowl. Glancing to my left I see it’s Gina Marie. and it seems kind of rude to me now. Seven years of living and drinking in one night will do that to you. That never happened. She looks in my direction. She’s going to an early practice. because she’s walking in my direction. cutting across the grass. sees me here… I give a slight nod. why she isn’t dressed. my head pretty much at her crotch level. and remember that I barely touched the stuff until I left for college. After a few seconds I glance again. “You took a picture of me from your table. standing on her front stoop. declaring it to be false just because it should be false? I'm lost in these kinds of thoughts when I hear a porch door slam. considering the effect she had on my penis and all the other functioning ones in town. coming to a stop just a few feet from me. pertaining to how late I stayed out. The sun emits light and heat. too — she’s too young and about ten pounds too thin. I have a hangover. so horn-crazed that she fucked my pecker into needing therapy. I guess. “Can I ask why?” . and I kind of remember doing that with a digital camera so primitive that I'm embarrassed to own it. “That’s not what you want either. because every minute that passes. “What do you mean?” “You want to photograph me?” Suddenly I can't even breathe. as though I actually proposed something here. “Let me think about it. which is quite an event. Nevertheless. and I always thought she did. and her breathing is like the sunlight finally finding something big and round like the sun to rest upon comfortably. just a guy into photography who wondered whether it’s even possible to fit these boobs within a picture frame. Painfully hard. “Of… course?” I venture. in a past that my senses confirm as real. she could take my existence the wrong way. There might not even be anything there.” She hesitates and I expect her to mutter “don't ever point a camera at me again”." I say.” she says. my eyes resting meaningfully on the school letters being distorted by bucket-fulls of tit. I spend part of this early Saturday morning on my computer in my bedroom.We definitely did not have this conversation before. or something like that.” She turns and steps onto the lawn making her way towards her car. Hell. "I haven’t even had a chance to see whether you showed up in the low light. Chapter Twelve — Second Chances I am not a maker of lists by nature. and that doesn’t make me a bad guy. or at the curvy behind and the legs that are almost as wondrous? Good God it’s still hard being around this girl. But I’ll delete the picture if you want. I suppose she could take that the wrong way if she wanted to. because I can't draw in a breath. and I finally exhale: “We will?” And then I’m left with a dozen new questions. added to the well-known Gina Marie backside conundrum — part of her tits are still visible even from behind. that’s not what I want. bracing for the unseen trap. needing to challenge the extended silence. when she wasn't before? “Look. Instead she just stands there breathing." She stands there without saying anything. what’s under that uniform much bigger than two suns from where I’m sitting. so do you look at that particular wonder when she walks away. He’s a kid named David Sand. People like to document the… the remarkable. and let me tell you — some potential there. “We’ll… talk. The tops of her tits are awash in brilliance. tells me I have an often horny and sometimes-slackerish teen on my hands. mostly because I have a hard time sticking to them. trying to organize my thoughts.” she finally says. It's human nature. but it never came together for him. They need organizing. He got a few moments where he could spread his wings and fly. More epic breathing — in fact we've become respiration opposites. “Gina Marie… You’re like the ninth and tenth wonders of the natural world. I mean…” I look up the length of her strong legs. I have a moment of feeling that deer in the headlights thing… But fuck that — I wanted to try to get a shot of Gina Marie’s headlights. and then the world fell apart under his feet. "Just think how many people take pictures of the Grand Canyon. or…” “No. and it's just enough time for me to regret the Grand Canyon metaphor. So why is she here. and it might be a sign of good . except me. 2. Find Mary Poole. It might be hard being a teen again. And I must be superstitious. because I . A bike just like my old one would almost be new. Fuck Sophie again. Multiple times now I’ve missed rather obvious warnings from the subconscious mind. I go back to number one and start to think about the recent dreams I’ve had… And I get this niggling need to add to the list. 13. 11.s. In fact. Do not stress over successfully altering the future. It looks like I can. I mean. What a dick. I appear to be living a life where somebody pushed a reset button. Is she really contemplating a photo shoot of some kind? Why? What does it mean? 12. 7. Then again. Get a motorcycle. and high speed internet. with dial-up internet instead of high-speed. what an opportunity. That’s probably why lists don’t work for me. 6. Get a computer that isn’t a piece of crap. 4. Figure a way to keep Sophie’s father off that boat. and it’s disconcerting as hell that I’ve had two dreams featuring a poisonous spider. Write down what I remember of every dream I’ve had since I stopped recording them. 5. although some of it will take more time than I’d wish. and what I can’t. It needs changing. Crap. and the early stuff quickly feels old. 10. Call Sophie. because Sophie and I got in each other’s pants last night.judgment that he didn't try flying too close to the sun. because my mind keeps getting excited about new things. Figure out what’s up with Gina Marie. Try to lucid dream when I sleep. 8. 3. Duh.a. If it's even available here yet. My dick probably cut in line. I need to find out what I can still do in my dreams. which goes like this: 1. just immoral. Good — the future I know sucks. try to have the entire fishing trip scrubbed. That last one is for no particular reason — I just feel like I have to. Believing that I know the future. Like this yuckbox of a desktop. so I question whether it’s actually number three. Nothing horribly illegal. Which still makes me too clean for most positions in corporate America. figure a way to use that knowledge to make some dough. it might only be that he was too focused on getting laid. I think my dick came up with that one all by itself. everything is old to me in this reality. Obvious. Get decent camera equipment a. 9. but I think I’d go batshit if I constantly resisted the evidence bombarding my senses. A phone call early today is a must. I come up with a hierarchy of must-do’s. Believe that I’m really here until something proves otherwise. I look at these things and I think I can do them. For better or worse.p. We hooked up last night and that was not a casual thing. On a mission to set the poor guy’s life straight from my position of superior experience and utter existential confusion. rather than writing down the dreams. of a snake eating its tail. She could be a cheerleader.don’t like seeing Mary’s name next to unlucky number thirteen. but it’s no coincidence that the helpful and sexy dream women appeared right when the butterfly pattern came into being. no exact date or place of birth. I glance at the top of the list. The first is the insignia on Mary’s uniform. They were uttered by a dream woman. But fuck. With nothing else coming to mind. making her number fourteen. where what created the means of escape also created the need to escape in the first place. where I could flee the consequences of all the mind-sex — the heat — that I’ve understood needed to be there for the bridge to ever be formed. and get nowhere. It’s like a circle of cause and effect. like a piece of me did die. and start writing down what I can remember. I employ elevator logic by leaving thirteen a blank. I try her name with “dreams”. then hers. per number five above. I try adding “behavioral science”. and she got a degree in behavioral science. or a debate team leader. but the real Mary never got the chance to say those words. I need to type something else to bring the search closer. What did I expect — she wouldn’t have studied that yet. because the messages about crossing the bridge appeared early on. culminating in crossing the bridge. do I? I’m pretty sure that she’s my age. or touring with the freaking circus… I squeeze my eyes closed. If that version of Mary was also a dream woman. However that happened. the bridge served as an escape hatch to back here. or perhaps a senior. So what does it mean to have an anima figure say goodbye like that? I don’t really know. and that disorientation carried into the subconscious. and why it won’t let go. I’d have to assume that I always knew. that I’d end up back here contemplating these questions. or a singer in an obscure band. The dream about the Enterprise bridge feels selfexplanatory — my mind was fucked up from whatever they were doing to me at the facility. no hobbies. I never got to know anything about her. I see that there are a lot of Mary Poole’s around. All the rest was like a gathering of previous symbols. and — big surprise — I upend the purpose of the list by starting right there. telling me to remember how much she loves me. or close to it — she’d be a junior in high school. then re-begin at the beginning by creating a new folder named “Dream Notebook”. no idea where she grew up or where she went to school. Stymied. because it makes me feel sort of weepy. I have no middle name. I got nuttin'. The other oddity in that dream is Mary. no nothing. only I don’t know crap about Mary. not the real one. And what would I do if I found her? She doesn’t know me here — she barely knew me there. It was the beauty of her body that got to me. a real loop. After a bit of waiting. Only two things strike me as being peculiar. We talked about my dreams. That symbol has shown up in so many dreams now that I’d be a fool to keep ignoring it. I make myself type that idea. followed by what I recall of the dream where I created a clay statue of Mary. Moreover. then what would it mean that she came to life when my spunk sprayed on her? Is she also a symbol of the new connections that . that special ability feeling the need to say farewell? That’s one of those loopy ideas I’m almost afraid to ponder. I keep thinking of that as the real Mary tearfully letting go. making everything almost ridiculously sexy. except that she had life-altering sex dreams in her teens. clicking on my tortoise browser and typing her name into the search engine. which was either a real time-bridge or… Or nothing. and that doesn’t help either. my brain/body connections returning to normal. a figure inside my own head. no parents’ names. Could it be that the new potential to relate with myself within my own sleeping head knew it was being killed off. that’s all I know. deep down. especially when I carved her further. trying to think. and the rest happened in on a bed. I need to know what it is. or sacrificed itself so I could be here now. Or repairing it. why would the dream Mary need to say goodbye like that? I won’t know the answer to that one until I lucid dream. I had that dream as everything was turning to shit. maybe Eduardo. could they? The newest spider dream has few clues because it was kind of story-less. and the miraculous abilities that appeared to satisfy that need. I get the feeling that the changes to my brain in the lab were exactly like that. like their brains were nothing more than an extension of their snarling pussies. I had those kinds of dreams before entering the lab.” Am I talking to myself when I say that? I sure hope so. Get some books on symbols. the spider a symbol for… I don’t know. “Dan will not die like he did. Somehow when I ended up back here. But except for Mary. because number four is calling out to me. Which prods me into adding another important thing to my to-do list: 15. . Either I need to become a thousand times better at reading dream symbols. the lucid dream abilities. I’m not sure what to think. Being back here I've not only lost Mary as a lover. the sting of the scorpion representing the physical pain my body felt. “I won’t let him. The changes I made to the Mary statue were really tiny — except for her tits. my cock being damaged from too much fucking.were formed. if I can. then why have another spider dream here in the past? The NSA couldn't have followed me here. the cops and possibly Eduardo in my apartment. I think about how awful that all became. which became so freakin' sexy that I really must not think about them if I want to get anywhere here — yet that little bit of tweaking created a creature that just oozed sexuality. And what they did to my poor dick in their fuck-frenzied state… Shivering. thinking positively. Other than a sense of extreme danger. “We changed his brain. they all became too deranged. just a few itsy-bitsy enhancements cascading into all that heightened sexual need. maybe even evil. If it was just that. I've lost the one person I knew who could help me unravel these images. It’s possible that the other enhancements.” I speak out loud. I’ll need to be a hundred times smarter this time. And if I can still do weird stuff while in my light body. then my balls are for-real bigger than they used to be. Repairing it like Eduardo said. too… But if so. we’ll change it back”? Or is it more like the way I’m thinking of repairing what’s going to happen to Dan. to avoid repeating my mistakes. or find someone with a gift for dream interpretation. That explanation sounds pretty good. the unique alignments fueled by a newly available amount of sexual energy? I think that’s mostly right. even if I’m not sure how. but it’s a place I might start. I mean. I need to talk with her today anyway. Maybe… Millie? I don’t know if reading the I Ching is anything like reading a dream. or I need someone trained or gifted in the art to help me. because I’d hate to think whom I might be challenging. trying to alter an unfortunate event that's part of my history? I write all of that down. Only not all of the enhancements were symbolic. and I have to do it. I go to the dream with the black widow spider being stalked by a scorpion. but extremely rarely. and if any of being here is real. wishing I could ask Mary for help. but it feels wrong. focusing on the black widow maintaining her web after it was damaged by the wind. It could be that I sensed all of that around me. I stayed hard non-stop with Sophie last night. followed me here. I’m not going to lie — getting all that sex was fabulous. or the NSA with its tangled web of deceit. one of the things I dreamed about resulted in physical changes to my actual body. with her tits so amazingly responsive. It’s the kind of science experiment I can get enthusiastic about. so I didn’t write it down. grabbing hold of my straining cock. It’s very demanding. I slip off my pants and underwear. If your… words.” Sophie says. Engorged.” “Oh! I’m… touching them…” I believe her. and maybe half an inch longer? I cup the palm of my free hand under my balls. maybe even slipping a few adjectives inside of her. but I think it’s even thicker now. and says to tell you that if your folks are working at the diner. all breathy. I have a question about Sophie's sexual enthusiasm. and doesn’t waste much time in asking whether I want to get together in the evening. away from our parents with a roof over our heads. and it isn’t an act. so I reply to her usage of suggestive language by telling her that I might want to talk with her for hours tonight. Making sure that my door is locked. her voice all low and sexy with sleep. We need a place to be. trying to measure. “Keep telling me what you like when we’re together. it's not so much a to-do. I’ve always had a biggish dick. She hisses on the line. where we can find someplace private to… talk. or later have my lopsided apartment. “God I want you in my mouth again. I can’t stop thinking about how that felt last night. “Stiff. I take the opportunity to inspect my equipment as she tells me how she couldn’t sleep for hours. She sounds drowsy. and draw out the word. No problem in the future. get to me like that again… I might become…” “Excited.” .” she tells me. But I want to know — has she been affected by the dream commands I aimed into her from the future? It sure seemed that way last night. David. her voice still husky.*** I call Sophie. “You don’t know… how much I’m dying to feel your words there. and would guess that I’ve gained an extra third or so of mass there. But here at seventeen the options are limited. when I live in a college dorm.” she plays along. “tex-tur-al”. her body getting all reheated every time she thought about how tight I felt inside of her. I want to drive you fucking crazy…” “Sophie… Maybe you’re not aware. The only way I can answer the question is to keep fucking her. I didn’t catch all that. watching a finger slip into a dripping slit. I’m not going to masturbate — it’s obvious that I’ll get Sophie soon enough. which means I can scratch two things off the list now. hoping it will glide right around her beautiful nipples like my tongue wants to do. It really was a tight fit. “…some place warmer and softer than the ground beside the bay. I want to learn. I could come over right now. but my penis is listening in on this conversation. She’s happy to hear from me. and that we’ll fuck like rabbits again.” I say. Sophie makes a sound so delicious that I feel like I’m right there in bed with her. coating her body in adjectives and rubbing them everywhere. watching to see if she goes sex-deranged or can keep things more together. “Make sure you rub some adjectives on my breasts. and how you like it. but I get it. her need so extreme. Her annunciation of the word “talk” is not very different from having her lips reach right through the phone to wrap around my dick. ” she says in way of greeting. early Sunday morning. only now I see how losing Dan aged her a bit extra. it’s not that. and then how she lost any interest after Dan passed. Dan got brand new boat shoes — they were on his body when he was found — and some other things for his overnight fishing trip. Millie. It feels so strange being here.” Definitely a gifted tease. but that isn’t what I’m thinking about now.” Millie says. She whispers. “I’m here because I need to talk with you. *** “Sophie’s out shopping. browse Victoria’s Secret to see what I see. Just ten minutes. putting about fifty hash brown orders of determination in my voice. I think I want to go to the mall today where I might. no. because I remember how hot she was for a deck.” Her eyes tell me she’s acquiesced. Today is Saturday. My dad’s off today and he’s puttering around the house. I’ve been wondering whether she might be able to sense that her daughter and I hooked up last night. sitting across with a cup of hot tea warming her hands. “Dan’s going on a fishing trip. because I suddenly remember a detail from this day. and here she’s telling me that she thinks we’ve been at it for weeks or months. with Millie looking spooky-wonderful. a problem I’ll probably have to deal with for a few days. She’ll increase the sexiness of whatever she chooses.” I begin. Please.” Her eyes narrow. I take a seat in the most private booth available and she uses the black phone behind the counter — no cell yet — to call for back up. “Sophie’s pregnant?” I can’t help but laugh. and it truly is a crowd compared to seven years from now. “Can you carve out ten minutes?” Her eyes dance around the diner — it’s the late breakfast crowd.“This evening. In less than fifteen minutes a thirty-ish woman arrives to spell her. although she doesn’t look happy about it. and she’s going to put me off until later. I know that woman. under the same curved roof as my yesterday. has an ailing mother in a nursing home… Can’t remember her name.” I probably wince. and I think he leaves tomorrow.” I’ve rehearsed some of it in my head. “This had better be damned important. We have to have this conversation now. And Millie it is. Millie.” she repeats.” I say. She was still a fine-looking woman in the future. I can see for myself that things are too busy. “It’s really urgent. . the main reason why Sophie looks so good. or… Millie. “Shoot. try to head him off somehow. Besides. oh I don’t know. much younger than the version who helped me out in a time that hasn’t happened yet. She looks really good here. Somehow. “I could be convinced to tell you where if you mow my lawn and promise to build that deck on the back of the house. I promise. She only has one young waitress as help. “I’ll make it worth the wait. Either I have to confront him. I don’t know how else to put it. “No. It can’t happen. but nothing ever sounds right. with the right idea. Only there won’t be any swelling string accompaniment to pull at her heart. “No.” “Why not?” “You just can’t. “He’d put up a hell of a fight but I’d win. the boat shouldn’t go out at all.” “Dan and Phil Wheeler have had this fishing thing planned for weeks. “Did you and Sophie…” “No. because you’ll trust your coins! Just do a reading on…” “How do you know about that?” she asks. silently probing. and what do I do when she simply replies. I… can’t explain it any better than that. David?” “Just that Dan can’t go on that trip. Leaves tomorrow morning. and…” “Jesus! How do you know that?” .” “You can’t let him get on that boat. He’ll listen to you. Dan’s going. She glances sideways to see whether anyone is listening to what we’re talking about. “I won’t lift a finger until you tell me how you think you know this thing you can’t tell me”. because I always win.” she finally says. “Somebody did something to Phil’s boat? What do you know. no. because it has tragedy written all over it. and I know how Soph feels about you. You have that little box with the coins your mother gave you.” “You have to stop him. That’s why I’m here. and not let Dan get on that boat. Only… why should I listen to you? I really like you David — we've always been close. her hands on the table like she’s about to get up. or. In fact.” The friendly eyes go wary. Millie. suitable for cinema. only they can’t see that it’s there. But just coming at me with this… this… request… I don’t know what to make of it. So you came to the right place. to have blind faith that I know what I’m talking about.” She looks deep into me. I have this idea that I can tell her that she’s standing in front of a bridge right now. and I try to let everything I know rise onto the surface of my face somehow. In some ways it’s a great and impassioned speech in my mind. this is crazy”. You have to. and I’d just like to see you try to stop him. so why wouldn’t she answer like that? “David. “You don’t have to take my word for it. You just have to trust me on this. I really don’t.” This is where I rehearsed — never to my satisfaction — some kind of rambling monologue about whether she remembers how I used to have dreams about crossing a bridge. hoping all to hell like she can pluck the truth out of my flesh on some unseen I Ching frequency or whatever. and how I was always afraid to do it. Millie. the words present almost before the thought is. and the only way to do that is to just trust me. she and Dan together. And Millie is a sensible woman. She needs to cross it right now. I just… I just know. I’m afraid I can’t…” she’s beginning to say. then. “Dan will listen to me.“That’s right. her voice hard and low. “Your coins!” I blurt out. I feel all charged. Hope to die. and in about forty minute's time I'm the newly adopted sort-of son/grandson. as though I know they won’t mislead. and there’s nothing to do but double-down. . “Not one more word about it. occasionally renting a cabin through sweat equity.“I can’t tell. “Millie. not to Sophie. Can we just go that far? If you can’t trust me enough. Johnson. I’m guessing that she never told people back now about her mom passing those coins to her. where I have a totally strange encounter with my future landlord. *** Time must be malleable.” She’s staring at me. We strike a deal where I’ll provide free carpentry work on the unfinished upstairs apartment — my apartment — in exchange for being able to use it every now and then as my totally informal love shack. Just staring. shutting me up. his collection of rare baseball cards. “Not to Dan. Bill Perkins' cabins come to mind — cabin three served me beautifully in the future. because the word would get around. Doesn't do it for me. the history of the hardware store’s founding. I know you only do a reading when somebody is in a true emergency situation. only you don’t know it. He doesn’t know me for boo. the time he met Cal Ripken. showing me that our conversation is over. I’ve either failed. or she thinks I’ve spied on a hidden diary or something. And that’s the end of it. and scared. Thinking outside the box. I’m anxious about Millie and Dan. Mr. You just have to…” “Now listen here — I don’t play around with this stuff. so what I’ve said just doesn’t compute. almost looking like she could take her teacup and smack my head with it. and I don’t… I can’t believe we’re…” She’s turning red. You’re in one. then trust your coins. and it feels kind of like sacred space belonging to Mary. or placed Dan’s life in the roll of three coins. and all the stories he’s told about his grown kids.” “I… promise. I open my mouth and she shakes her head vigorously. not anyone ever.” she says.” “But…” “You promise me that. It’s a very serious business to me. with an expression suffused with so many contradictory things that it begins to hurt and I have to look away. I get this inspired idea — unless it’s more crazy than inspired — which leads me into the city. and when I bring my focus back to Millie. David Sand. They’ll show you. wishing she hadn’t put it that way. They’ll help you. David. You promise me that. Without being too obvious. she’s already pushing out of the seat. and fill the afternoon by brainstorming on a place where Sophie and I might be able to go at each other without getting cold or bitten. because the next seven hours pass like they’re seventy-seven. or sex with Mary. which I don’t. I’m deep into it. I use my wealth of biographical leverage to establish one of those instant connections that rarely happens. but I know him. and I might be able to work out some sort of yard work deal with Bill.” I say. Probably. “Is it too gross to think about your parents having sex?” I get a mental picture of Millie as she is now… Truth is. with several of the crooked walls blocked in with two-by-four studs and occasionally some unfinished drywall. “My mom and dad are having a terrible row. opening all the windows as I sweep to let the wind carry the dust where it will. along with a small table and some candles. When I’m finished the space is not at all presentable. The kitchen is nonexistent. which will have to do for tonight. and just do it?” “Nope. and the effect in the primitive bedroom is construction-nouvea with a New-Age Spartan twist. dimples deepening. Back home I shower. even though he’s been looking forward to it for weeks. of controlling him. “My dad bought all this new fishing gear today. whenever they get too angry with each other. It’s understandable — the testicles I soap and rinse are far too big. not a bit of privacy. Anyway. because my nerves are in that state where they pretty much believe I’m going to make love with a really hot girl later in the night. I pick out some sheets with Navajo-like symmetrical designs in rust and black. she's pretty fucking hot.” “What ways?” Sophie laughs. I’m sure he’ll love me for that. even if the bathroom itself is nothing but wood studs with a ceiling and raw floor. If he is. All this anxiety is amplified. She has this box hidden at the back of her bedroom closet.It’s a real kick. “Maybe. I buy a futon mattress from an incense-filled store that won’t be on this block in a few years. but she calls ahead of time.” she speaks in hushed tones into the phone. She doesn’t play fair. She won’t let him. is all. I was going to pick up Sophie at eight. or her mother’s coins.” “You might have noticed that my mom is still a good-looking woman. touring the space I know so well in its half-finished state. like… demonic!” “So is your dad still going?” “No way. and tells me she’s coming to get me instead. I think she… She’s probably good in bed. or the whims of whatever mystical things drive readings like that. and afterwards my dad’s like a sleepwalker with a cartoon grin drawn on his face. I’m lucky in that the bathroom fixtures work. and I still don’t know whether Dan is planning to get on that boat. She’d probably die if she knew I knew about it. . but it’s relatively clean. “I’ve got to get out of here!” I take it as a good sign. feeling kind of edgy. they disappear for hours. She was. and when he got home my mom came at him like four days of fishing is no different than going to Las Vegas to screw a bunch of bellydancers or something. Anyway. “I don’t even know if I want to go back home tonight. especially when he learns I’m also boning his beautiful daughter.” she begins. When I was a kid I thought mom must practice voodoo on him. So I picture my parents going at each other in bed. And I might be — it all depends on Millie. I’ll have to go down to the launch in the morning and… I don’t know. the electricity not yet going.” “Any chance he’ll ignore her. My bedroom is filled with carpentry debris and piping. the way he’d suddenly change. maybe hit him with a baseball bat or something. She has these… these ways. All the mismatched windows are already in place. which they’ll be doing much less of fairly soon. filled with little outfits and… things. although I’m not really sure until after our first passionate kiss inside Sophie’s car. and I clear it all away. I want to think it’s the latter. gifting this girl with nipples so sensitive to my touch that I can send her into a convulsive orgasmic state just by going at them hard enough. reaching over to give my cock a too-hard squeeze.” the full lips confirm.” “I think I might envy them.” “You fucker!” she laughs. Thankfully it’s a cool night. I decide that rather than concoct some white lie. “Then you must believe you can keep up with me. It could be that these very fine breasts were always itching to be fondled by me. With her naked body a pale yellow-orange shape writhing on the Navajo background of the sheets. We could use more lubricant… And I've no sooner had the thought when she directs me to get the baby oil from the bag she brought along. why couldn’t Sophie end up with nuclear nipples? I send them into critical mass almost entirely with my tongue. because I was always The One for them. I don’t think she’s even sure where she is after a couple of minutes. to see whether that knocks the silly questions out of her head. and guiding her into fucking my cock with her tits. but with some side pressure from her hands. their thrilling texture defined by the wavering light of the candles. There is an addictive element in having a girlfriend who can come just from having her beautiful breasts manhandled enough. too. afraid that someone will call the police.it’s safe to say they won’t notice how late I come in tonight. because in my mind I see: 16. She might not have even realized it. and I’m going to learn how to do that.” “That’s bullshit. I will think it’s the latter.” “I feel like I just might be the luckiest guy in the world. Sophie comes. Because she’ll fall for it. I search for a way of blending our desires by smearing her boobs with her juices. making them glisten. Only I think I just added a new one. her vocal chords stressing. Goad Sophie when it comes to sex. Either that or my dream commands leaped back into time right along with me. With the manipulation of her tits producing the same kind of effect as the night before. Because she wants to fall for it. “Are you challenging me? Because if you are…” “You’ll what?” “Tell me where to drive and I’ll show you what. Sophie has enough up top to do it. I’m just going to slip my hands under her blouse and start pinching her nipples.” “You are.” I can cross Dan off my list. She giggles when she sees the futon set up on the floor. too. so when I have her in a more breathless condition I take a moment to lower the windows I have partway opened. It does. With you. *** I give Sophie the candlelight tour through our very own slice of crooked construction privacy. I like the . asking how on earth I came across the place. arms and legs thrashing. because if I got bigger balls somehow. I’ve seen how much power a woman can wield from knowing how to turn a man to jelly in bed. It's hard to say which of us enjoys this more — she has two tits to my one dick. David. which lull us towards sleep. whereas I explode right where we're fucking. then takes my wrist to pull my finger out. which gets her screaming again. telling her that she’s getting everything backward. ripping me into the most forceful coming of the night. I’m the one who’s supposed to be expressing that kind of devotion. “Because I’ll do anything you want. In time she draws me to her body. I didn’t think of it like this when I finagled my way back into this shell of an apartment. my big cock gliding inside of cleavage made all slick and shiny. with an index finger that wets itself inside her pussy. Sophie uttering drawn out moans and surprised gasps with only half of my cock spreading her open. “I mean that. though. but she comes elsewhere. I do tease her. deep-milking her supernaturally sensitive tits as we rock below. this exquisite girl I never got to fuck nearly mindless with hard-assed fucking come true. making her soft flesh even slipperier. going at each other until our hormones are eventually placated. not in that way.way my girlfriend thinks ahead. my hands wrapping around to compress her tits. and then she’s on all fours with her back arched. applying just a bit of pressure. that if she’s going to be the expert she seems to think her mother is. By candlelight I watch her duck between studs. smiling open-mouthed while staring up at that familiar — to me — crooked ceiling. then slides with deliberate craft to her anus. and getting Sophie primed. my front absorbing Sophie’s warmth. I like it even more when we resume the tit-fuck. panting. reeling. panting into the night sounds of the city. fucking it.” she grins. I’m yours…” I could tease her. I had a couple of awful breaking-up fights with Sharon in this very room. I might have liked it. back. Oh God. Barely able to speak. her torso wrapped inside a waist-scrunching corset with sinful undercups that lift her tits into two milky-fleshed meals. I don’t skimp on the jelly when I'm ready. breathy urging to go faster and harder. telling me she’ll be right back. I can’t help thinking that she looks like a blonde angel of sex to Mary’s dark one. hearing “Oh God Yes! Yes!” repeated at full volume. I’m yours. I’m yours. this night of nearmiracle tightness and breathless cries. I could never get Sharon or my other smattering of future girlfriends to go there. amazed by the grip. “I thought even more ahead. digging into the flesh around her nipples. the tit-fucking faster and harder. They might have liked it. We detour a bit as I dine on the breasts so scrumptiously displayed. standing. getting it all wet. and this fallen angel has a tube of thicker lubricant in her hand. taking her sex-condiment bag with her. Sophie hoarsely asks what I’d like next. Sophie smears my cum into the mix.” she adds. to try. I blow out the candles and we lie there spooned together. pulling them out and twisting. front. When she returns to the bed. It isn’t a moment to tease her. morphing again into deep satisfied gasps. passion turned to exhaustion.” Sophie whispers. “Anything. Pretending that I can’t see her every movement in the next room. and we just lie there together. only I don’t even know. thoughts fluttering without direction from the present to a future that feels like the past. she slips her legs into black fishnet stockings. I probe. her ass smacking hard. and my last . arching her body so my finger slides in of itself. I just love the bubbly shape of this girl's ass. Sophie coming again and again as my fingers twist and pull at her nipples. She gasps some. and it’s a slow smooth glide inside. but I have the sense that I’m repairing the future somehow. sucking it. Nothing is out of bounds… if it turns you on. offering herself to me. and we just keep going. me coming again from the glorious bouncing boob-job. A cautious rocking minute of experimentation morphs into a harder boob-swaying rhythm. and gets me driving my dick inside her pussy. her gorgeous young late bloomer of a body accepting my cock again and again. . Which things are important to hang onto. 3… Rather. sigh. anyway. or an extended trip to France. Yeah. because I don’t even know one of the women yet. That one reads: Do not stress over successfully altering the future. some things are non-negotiable. I can do things better. so I made the numbers reflect that. we both know that. Unless all the rules don’t apply. I wrote it up just today. I’m in love with two women. and what do I willingly let go of? I could give up living in this apartment again. and three deranged women whose minds had become like something out of an X-rated Invasion of the Hormone Snatchers film. the same or very differently? I can kind of see her as my awareness gets more fuzzy. and my motorcycle. but so far I can’t see where she’ll end up in a straightjacket. which I have mixed feelings about. and the cops. I’m not completely comfortable with being here in this time. I’ve been here just one day. I suppose — whether to feel nostalgic for some experience already lived. It could be fun to do some crazy things I never really considered before — a road trip across the country. I skim down and see that I drew the same thing after 2/14: Find Mary Poole. of a snake eating its tail. but only when we’re fucking. perhaps. No one woman will ever be enough. which is socially and ethically problematic. Sophie can go crazy-horny. so why can’t I remember the reasons behind the strange numbering system? The numbers aren’t the typical 1. Just as long as I get my cameras back. too. we do. Because there is no Sophmary Morapoole. or preparing to fuck.m. I typed them out as 2/1. my eyes stopping at 2/6. or whether to strike out in a new direction to see where it leads. I didn’t ask to be a teen again. 2. I’m being given a second chance. 2/3. I might have an altered destiny. I suppose things could change. and if I had the money to do something different. just like I never asked to have my brain tinkered with. It looks like that from my perspective. too. something better. and succeeded at improving things. which seems like a very good thing. *** I stare at the list glowing eerily on my computer screen. blathering to anyone about how much she needs my dick pounding into her.moments in this space involved blood. without shedding too many tears. I sigh a two a. for instance. and Sophie’s entire family has a different destiny. why wouldn’t I try that? I’ll have to examine those feelings often. sometimes mistaking Sophie’s warmth for the touch of Mary’s body. I don’t even think I could have sculpted a wonder of womanhood like that. I mean. I skim my notes. I remember writing that. I can see where every day that passes will take me farther away from a replay of events just as they happened before. And Mary Poole? Would I do her again. in this younger body… At the same time. awake with my body all sex-relaxed. What I don’t remember is drawing the little symbol that follows. 2/2. I’ve already taken some second chances. Too much history here. can maybe even make some things better. I think it must be that I was preoccupied with the idea of second chances. I’ve drawn the snake symbol multiple times here. 2/18. I shouldn’t keep my parents’ marriage from unraveling? Why. . which is the very last one. because I shouldn’t. I think. but the spine-chilling numbers do not sit alone. and far too small. No snake symbol afterwards. I scroll down to the next one. or because I can’t? Feeling uneasy. which reads: Save my parents from splitting up. Nothing is written afterwards. I see one item on the list I don’t remember typing in at all: 2/17. something about the second chances especially important. which makes me feel… Anxious? Determined? Scared? All of the above. but this one stands out because I’ve crossed through it.I’m pretty sure that I added that symbol because these two things are related. as though I changed my mind. Checking ahead. But mostly just too weak.