Saturday Night Fever: Strange Dreams

I am prone, once in a while, to to dream of strange things. Not ‘strange’ as in, I’m walking my pet velociraptor as one would walk a dog on a leash, but the velociraptor is dressed in a wedding gown and I am conducting this walk on stilts.

More like, ‘strange’ as in, I really don’t have any conscious notion of that action/activity to be a kink of mine — in fact I may quite shudder at the idea of it in the waking world — but for some reason, in this dream it’s really REALLY hot.

I shared one such strange dream before.

I had another a few nights ago.

The setting was somewhat vague — I was on a table of some sort, I think, but everything in the room around me was dark so I can’t give context — and the people involved (men; 4 of them) were not so much people as they were bodies. One of the men — I didn’t know who he was at first, but he seemed to be the only one I had any kind of emotional interest in — was not exactly off-stage but was definitely not directly involved in the scene. He was just watching.

I was laying on my back on the table, naked, with the watcher standing somewhat beyond my right shoulder. There were three men surrounding me — one each on my left and right, and one between my legs. All were naked, all were hard.

It was not threatening in any way, and while it could easily be construed that I was somehow being overpowered in such a situation, that was not at all the case. They were there because I wanted them there, and they served no purpose except to bring me pleasure. I had my left and right hands wrapped one each around the up-and-ready phallus (and really, it was the piece of flesh I was interested in; their faces did not imprint on my dream sight and I had the distinct feeling that these men – as people – meant nothing to me) on my left and right, respectively, and the man between my legs was poised to fuck me.

Which… That doesn’t seem so odd, does it? A foursome, essentially (me + 3 men = 4), with a fifth serving as voyeur.

But then they got… Leaky(?)… And *that* for me is where it went to WTF?! territory.

Because I don’t have a big thing about cum. I don’t fetishize it, and where male cum is concerned, I certainly do not prioritize it in any way.

And that counts for precum as well.

Which is essentially what my three nobodies were leaking.

And they were leaking it all over me.

My skin was being soaked — the men on the right and left were drizzling on my nipples as I stroked them, and it was smearing over my breasts and down my stomach; the man between my legs was essentially performing frottage, gliding up and down over my slit, and dribbling… no, it was more like a leaky faucet than a dribble… his precum across my mons, soaking my pubic hair — and, for some reason, this soaking seemed to be the entire purpose of the activity.

There was more, eventually. Penetration that I didn’t ‘feel’ in the way I normally experience sensations in my dreams; a pulsing release of ejaculate inside me that I did feel, the dripping excess of which poured out of my insides against my thighs even while he held himself braced still in the thrust-forward position inside of me; eventual recognition of the watcher; a bodily-flush suffusion of pleasure at having accomplished what I wanted…

Whatever ‘what I wanted’ even was. I have no earthly idea.

But the thing that kept striking my half-lucid mind (I was attempting to wake myself from this weirdness, so I had that half-awake awareness that comes with ‘witnessing’ a dream with a conscious mind) was, “But that’s not hot. You [talking to myself] don’t get off on that.”

And, given the completely un-aroused state I woke to, I’d have to say my conscious mind was correct in its assessment. I don’t get off on that.

But somehow, some way, for some reason I cannot fathom…

My dream self does.

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