NEW Series *** DREAM Lover *** Chapter 1
She looked imploringly into my face as she did, and I saw that her eyes, which had been so dark in the previous dream, were actually a clear, light grey. The sense of darkness was because they were deep-set and shrouded with concern. She tugged my cock expertly as her other hand glided over my chest, stimulating my nipples just like I had felt in the meeting. She bent to kiss me, and with her face nuzzled against my neck she kept saying "Please, save me. I know you're the one. Can you take me? Will you save me?" It was a mantra, a supplication, her voice inside my head, tinged with a need deeper than I could fathom. Something about that sense of need, and the unseen way it seemed to feed her hands on my body, infusing them with desire beyond understanding, was more erotic than I can describe. Before long, she sensed my climax approaching, and began to chant "Oh yes! Yes. I know I can reach you! Yes, yes..."
When I came, my dream-self ejaculated in a huge stream up over my chest, jet after slowly-subsiding jet. My ghostly lover milked the last drops from my cock and began rubbing the sticky, viscous mess all over my belly and chest. The last tingling sensations of my orgasm were just fading when I awoke to find I had jizzed in my underwear, and copious amounts of cum had soaked through and wet my sheets in cold spots of dampness.
Dammit! I hadn't had a wet dream since junior high school! What the hell was happening to me???
While it was clear to me the girl from the séance, the strange physical sensations, and the girl in my dreams were all related somehow, I just couldn't make myself believe that it was all real. I mean, I knew it was REAL -- I had the load of messy sheets in the laundry even as I was thinking about this -- but I didn't accept that there might be another entity involved. A ghost. Who believes in ghosts these days? I knew something was happening, but I still thought it was coming from my own mind somehow.
I pretty much thought I was going crazy.
Now that I had dreamed of direct contact with her, my ghostly visitations became both more frequent and more overt. No more isolated feelings of fingers on my chest, or kisses from unseen lips. No more foreplay, so to speak. Oh no.
Now the girl was getting me off at every opportunity. She seemed to thrive on pleasuring me. And it was damned embarrassing and inconvenient on occasion.
I'll give you an example. I was taking the subway train into work one day when my unseen companion decided it would be the perfect time to give me a blowjob. Like I said, no one else can see anything she does, but my erection was unmistakable as I felt the first stirrings of her touch. A young lady across from me looked at me with a withering glare, her eyes flashing lightning bolts of disapproval my way as I wriggled and squirmed to get my cock comfortable in my pants. That's not so easy when you're in public and can't just reach down and rearrange your package! I ended up slipping off my jacket and throwing it over my lap, but the woman across from me seemed to think I was just going to jerk off under there, so I made sure to keep my hands in the clear. She had the hawkish, bitter face of someone who would just love to report me to the authorities for indecent exposure.
I was pretty amazed that I was able to experience such sexual pleasure under her hateful scrutiny, but I did. The feeling of soft lips and a deft tongue working over my cock soon blotted out all but the most vague awareness of the eyes on me. Not just her eyes, either. She was the only one really watching me, but the car was full. I leaned back against the gently rocking seat and let the stimulation take over. I've always been a very visual person, and I like to watch when a woman gives me head, so feeling my lover's supple mouth suck me deeply in, feeling the tightness as my head penetrated the back of her throat - all this was strangely intensified by the deprivation of sight. I could feel her hand stroking and tugging at the base of my shaft in unison and in counterpoint to the wet mouth engulfing me. She sometimes stretched my skin taught, almost to the point of pain, and lightly moved her moist lips and tongue over the tight, sensitive skin. As she sensed my approaching orgasm, her hand took over in firm, rhythmic, dedicated strokes. Only occasionally did I sense her tongue flickering over my head and toying with the slit, already wet with precum. Though I couldn't see her at all, I had the feeling she was watching my face, enjoying my expressions as I edged nearer and nearer to the brink.
At last, I teetered over the edge, cumming in great heaving waves that passed through my abdomen, emptying my balls. I came to my senses to find that we were nearly to my stop, and the woman across from me was regarding me with the horror one might reserve for a bearer of the plague. I was never unconscious or anything, but I had been totally absorbed in what I was feeling, and I could only hope I hadn't made any obnoxious noises.
I started to put my jacket back on only to find that I had stained the front of my pants in a spreading splotch of dark wetness. I quickly held the jacket back in front of me, mortified and hoping against hope that no one else saw before I was able to cover up. I dug my cell phone out and called in to work, explaining that I had ruined my pants on the subway and needed to change before I could come in.
This would never do. I couldn't just go around jizzing in my pants at seemingly random times. I realized I had to do something to preserve my job and keep me out of jail. Not to mention the psych ward.
So, I did the only thing I could think of. I know you're gonna laugh, but I started wearing Depends. Yeah, yeah, I know. Adult diapers. Yuck it up.
What else could I do? I tried mind over matter. I mean, it seems like I should be able to keep from getting a woody, right? Much less, keep myself from having an orgasm. But whatever hold my visitor had over me, it seemed to override my own sense of embarrassment and self-preservation. She could make herself known and make me cum, anywhere, at any time. Honestly, I didn't mind in some ways. But it could still be really embarrassing, even with the protection of the Depends.
She never spoke to me when I was awake, but she began to haunt my dreams more and more often, and in the dreams she did talk. Most of what she said was very cryptic and hard to understand. It dawned on me that she had an accent, one that I couldn't place but seemed to be vaguely eastern European. I also learned her name -- Elisabetta.