What dreams may cum

I had one of those dreams last night.

It started out an anxiety dream. You know the ones... You're taking a final exam and you realize you haven't attended a single class all semester. Or it's closing time at the restaurant. You're not allowed to lock the doors until the last customer leaves, but as long as the doors are open you have to continue letting people in. And they just keep coming.

In this one I opened my front door to walk the dogs and before I could get the leash on them they bolted. Gone. Totally. Miles away in an instant. No clue what they were after. So I'm walking through the neighborhood looking for them. I need to get them back before they do something regrettable. Or before the neighbors complain.

Dreams are amazing in how you can be in totally familiar surroundings and suddenly they change to someplace you've never been before but you still think if it as that place you know. Or you can be interacting with some one you know, but the face and body you see belong to a stranger--it's not X, but at the same time it is.

I entered a forest and started climbing a steep hill (familiar unfamiliar surroundings) searching for the dogs. Suddenly I remember the wolves. I feared for the dogs because there were wolves. They were big dogs, but they were domestic. They wouldn't be able to defend themselves. When I reached the other side of the hill I saw the pack. In the distance at first, but ambling toward me, a pack of five grey wolves. They took no notice as they passed me, but still I was afraid.

I continued down. Past a pasture with a barbed wire fence. In it was a huge, angry bull. The bull snorted. It grunted. It charged the fence to get at me. Again, I was scared. But it couldn't get past the barbed wire. I inched slowly along until I was a safe distance away, then continued looking for the dogs.

Then I came to a thicket of heavy overgrown brush. I pushed my way through. There to my right was an old VW Beetle. It was painted baby blue, but had been neglected for many years. The brush grew in and around it. Just past it, the thicket opened up. There I stood on top of a huge boulder, looking down at a house. The wall of the house was entirely glass. The better to enjoy the view, my dear. In the clearing between the house and the bolder was a woman. Middle aged. Auburn hair. Naked. Not nude. NAKED. Big tits and a shaved pussy. Not clean shaven though. It had been a few days, at least. I could tell by the way she carried herself, by the way she fondled her tits with one hand and held her cunt with the other, that she was proud of her body. She had reason to be.

She was looking up at me. She said something about what I was wearing. Something complementary. That's when I noticed what I had on. A wife-beater and boyshort panties. (Check the archive for more on the panties. I don't know why I like 'em. I just do.) I responded something unintelligible. She came closer to the boulder opening up to me as she approached. I stepped off the edge and slid down to where she was.

Then she was lying on the ground, her legs were spread, and I was kneeling beside her rubbing her pussy. She was very wet. She said something about her husband, George, and I look up at the house. There through the window I could see a man, scruffy and unshaven, sitting in a chair, also wearing a wife-beater, and khaki pants, watching TV.

"That's George?" I asked.

"Don't worry about him," she responded.

So I didn't. I continued fingering her. Rubbing her clit with my fingertips, fast and hard. I wanted to do more. I wanted to eat her out. I wanted to fuck her.

Instead I woke up. Looked at the clock. 5:30! Time to hit the treadmill.