Wednesday, February 4, 2009


I dreamt of you last night. I don't dream of you often, but I love it when I do. I love that I can see and hear and feel and taste us together in my dreams. These dreams are very rare and welcomed gifts. And, without fail, they always ALWAYS leave me craving you ten times more than I normally do.

In my dream you had your Harley and you wore black leather pants for the long ride. I don't know where we were coming from or where we were going, but we stopped. I'm assuming it was at a hotel. Some of the details are unclear because one scene steps into the next in choppy sequences, not fluid and seamless. I'm assuming it was a hotel because suddenly I was naked and on my knees before you and you were standing before me with your feet apart and wearing only your leather pants.

You instruct me very clearly, "Bury your nose." I know what this means and I do it without hesitation. I press my face to the leather... first along the muscular swell of your inner thigh and then working my way up. I lick and inhale and even try to delicately gnaw on your pants and on your flesh. The smell of the leather is intoxicating, but it doesn't mask your scent when my nose is buried against your balls. I am lost in the feel, taste, smell of you... and in the sound of your low groan - that same sound that makes me ache with desire. My tongue presses forcefully against the leather and my mouth trembles while my body quivers. I want so much more. I want all of you. I want to devour you and be devoured by you - simultaneously the predator and the prey. The leather, although I love the scent and texture and taste, is in my way and I want to rip it apart; but I know that I can't so I just moan and whimper in agonizing frustration and desperate need.

You have one strong hand in my hair; softly running your fingers through the long, silky strands. The other hand unfastens and unzips your pants. I moan and groan loudly as I feel the ache in my belly demand to be satisfied. I stare at your cock springing free of its confines and into your hand. You hold me back with the firm grip in my hair while I strain against your hold to get my mouth on your cock. I know you're grinning wickedly as you watch my eyes fixate on your cock and my mouth begin to drool.

"Open your mouth and keep it open."

I moan like a desperate animal. Saliva gathers on the inside of my lips and I remind myself to not close my mouth to swallow. I begin to drool and I hate it, but at this moment I just don't care. My focus is on your glorious cock and your gorgeous hand slowly stroking it. I look up at you - my big blue eyes silently pleading with you to let me have it... let me taste it... let me touch it. Pleeeeeeeeeease. Looking into your eyes makes me want to fuck - it always does. Just like that Pavlovian dog I start to rock my hips back and forth, humping at nothing and desperate for something.

You let go of my hair and step away from me to remove your pants. I crawl toward you and you tell me I'm a good little cumpuppy. I whimper at your praise. You tell me, "Just your tongue, little cumpuppy." And I lick. I lick the head and taste your delicious pre-cum. I lick along the underside of your shaft and make my way to your balls. They're full and so perfectly smooth. I taste them and weigh them against my tongue. I want to open my mouth wide to nestle them on my tongue, but I remain obedient and just lick. I lick and lick and lick until I'm beneath you with my head tilted and I press the tip of my tongue into your puckered hole.

I taste you. I wake. And I ache.

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