The war movie "Johnny Got His Gun" is a soul-shattering experience for many. It sticks in the mind for many reasons, not the least of which is the psychological hell that would be caused by loss of all your physical faculties while your mental processes remained alert and very much aware. One quote from the movie has especially stuck with me over the years, though: "How can you tell what's a dream and what's real when you can't even tell when you're awake and when you're asleep?"
It was like that for me this morning, you know. For much different and considerably more pleasant reasons.
I was floating, drifting, wandering in a pleasant haze. Clouds passed over and through me and I was borne aloft on warm breezes. Far below me I saw a landscape of indescribable beauty, rolling hills and valleys, mountains with snow-capped tips, lush forests and rushing cataracts. My spirit sang at the sight. Indeed, I was feeling pleasure radiating outward from my core, buoying me up effortlessly, the good feelings crackling along every nerve ending.
Slowly things shifted and turned, and I sideslipped along another plane of existence. The pleasure intensified, becoming more localized. I felt dim sensations: warmth building to heat, gentle tingling, a velvety smoothness, a slick friction of some kind. They intensified as the pleasure built. Reality reassembled itself, building blocks falling into place, solidifying to the here and now.
Which was that your lips were wrapped around my cock and you were sucking on me gently but insistently.
My eyes flew open in shock and then almost immediately closed again as the sensations swept over me and carried me away. Never had I felt such exquisite points of pleasure. There was no time to wonder how you'd pulled the covers off without awakening me, what had possessed you to awaken me like this, or even how in the hell you'd gotten here in the first place. It's very difficult to think coherent thoughts when a woman has your cock in her mouth.
And so consciousness coalesced around the delight I felt: heat, gentle suction, a most insistent tongue curling around my shaft and concentrating on the head. Your soft fingers stroked me up and down, tenderly but with firm authority. I moaned, the first sound I had managed, and was rewarded with a humming "Mmmmm" from you, my cock never slipping free. Your hair whispered along my belly, your hands caressed my thighs and fondled my balls. Your mouth worked with slow passion, teasing me, gorging me with blood and desire. I felt myself throb intensely with each hard thump of my heart.
The sounds of lust: wet "shlick" and "sploop" sounds as you sucked me, slowly, your mouth moving from head to the base of my shaft, my ragged breathing as the pleasure built, my helpless moans of desire, your soft musical humming. I began to raise my hips, slightly, involuntarily, and heard/felt you giggle to yourself, knowing I was completely and utterly lost, in your control.
And then you pulled back. My cock slid free, rigid as a post, throbbing angrily. I gasped as your tongue dragged over the crown, swirling round it, bringing fresh beads of desire, glistening pearly white. You grinned the most impish grin I had ever seen and only then did I realize you were as naked as I. Slowly, slowly, you crept forward, your skin sliding against mine, your hard nipples scoring trails along my chest as you undulated along my length. You straddled me. Your thighs grabbed me with no doubt about who was in charge here. You looked down imperiously, eyes glinting with mischief and delight. You raised those hips. Your hands caressed your own skin, fondling your breasts. You tweaked your nipples and sighed softly as your hands moved lower, ever downward. Your hand wrapped around my rigid length, angling it, pointing me to your own requirements. More heat, more wetness: slick and ready, you enveloped me before I could even blink, and just like that we were connected, so intimately, so deeply.
You sighed again, this time in words: my name. It sounded like a blessing. With a soft gasp I called your own, the word almost lost in a moan of pure need as you began to move slowly, excruciatingly slowly. You leaned forward, your breasts pressed against my chest, and rained kisses on my neck, my throat. Your tongue tasted my pulse, explored my earlobe. I felt your breath, hot and insistent. My hands went to cup and squeeze your ass, helping you fit yourself to me. Slowly, so slowly, you rose and fell above me. I raised my head to capture a nipple with lips and tongue and was rewarded with moans of your own. Steadily, rhythmically, you drove me onward. Steadily, rhythmically, I was driven higher, the pleasure building, the tempo increasing. My breath came faster. Your velvet walls gripped me, molding me, shaping me for our ecstasy. Your hair swung forward, obscuring your face, but those eyes glinted, glinted. A ghost of a smile from you: you leaned forward, palms on my chest, bracing yourself for harder, faster, rocking and grinding. Your touch seared my skin. Head whirling, every nerve flamed with delight, I could only gasp and moan, helpless to resist the tide, the inevitable burst of heat and light and color, the brilliant nova that sent me over the edge......
.........and then I raised my head, and looked around. The sheets were tangled, my pillow askew, my cock throbbing steadily in a pool of precum. I touched myself: stickier than I should be. The memory of your kisses, the taste of your tongue, the feel of your hot cunt, wouldn't leave me alone, insisted they had been real. I dropped my head to the pillow, and sighed bitterly. Never have I been so disappointed to return to the real world from a dream.