Since Wednesday all my dreams, and even a good portion of my idle waking thoughts, have been all sexed over.
Last night’s dreams included rarities for me: Encounters with women I’ve been with in the real, in the fleshy-flesh of earthly delights. They don’t appear in my dreams too often.
One woman was lesbian but we made out a lot. I wanted more but she said no. Her breasts were stupendous and she bragged about how, during her pre-lesbian years, she sucked cock better than the best of them. She bragged to me about this, taunting me, as I came to grow accustomed.
She used her sexuality as a kind of power. It’s nothing esoteric or hard to interpret.
All that’s real. The dream last night was not, though it had elements of truth from my experiences. I was on top of her. She had gained a good amount of weight, providing a lot of room to cushion. She felt nice.
The troubles came after our smalltalk ended and we started kissing. I went at it too fast, too furious, plunging my tongue deep into her throat. She made me stop, saying it was too much, too much.
That is an oft-repeated line from my encounters in bed. I go too fast, too hard, too much. I remember the withering, dismayed tone of voice one woman used when saying “It’s too much.”
I always felt humiliated when incidents like this happened. I backed off, completely, and kind of cowered, with things resuming after some minutes in a softer, slower way.
I learned to know better, to build in to that kind of intensity, at least where it seemed necessary. I have since erased fears that I am too aggressive. It just depends on the woman. Some want nothing less than for things to start right off with frenzied passion.
Getting back to last night’s dream… I was on top of her, kissing like my life depended on it, when she turned away. She didn’t push me away or outright complain. She just said it was too much, too much.
Another element of this encounter I could have mentioned earlier is that we were being watched by another woman who, in the real world, I slept with a number of times. She was evaluating and scoring our performance, not just mine or hers but the totality of our encounter. She agreed we should stop for a moment and try again.
This woman watching us was one of a number of strippers I’ve dated. I did not always know, at least not at first, that they were or had been strippers. But this woman I knew from day one spent her nights working the pole at a club I knew of but had never entered.
In the dream she watched the lesbian and I try to make something happen. This reflects comments she had made during our time together that she would like to watch me have sex with another woman. Voyeurism was one of her turn-ons in life. Unfortunately circumstances where I could have helped indulge her in this never occurred.
All in all she turned out to be a pretty horrible human being, and especially, determinedly mean to me for as long as I made myself available for her abuse.
In the dream she organized the resumption of the lesbian and I making out, maybe more.
I wore a tongue condom, something I did not know existed until I looked it up online after waking from this epic dream. I wore it not to prevent STD transmission during cunnilingus but to prevent spread of Covid. Yeah, I know…Dreams aren’t supposed to make sense.
The stripper approved of the performance put forth by the lesbian and me. When it ended she softly held my hand and asked me to come with her to a different space, an auditorium where we could have sex on the stage and trade partners as an audience of a few hundred observers watched. She was calm and ingratiating in her invitation but her lustiness was unmistakable.
The dream rambles and ambled off into countless other directions. There were near death experiences, Hillary CLinton appeared, I dumped the earth’s oceans into a small yogurt container…
As in life, circumstances never reached a point where she could have watched me make love to another woman. Oh well.
That’s all I have time for. Have to work.
