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My Wet Dream and Sadness

Posted by: Age: 31 Posted on: 14 comments
23 likes 4086 views Category: Masturbation Female Solo Tags: my teenagers
The latest wet dream in a series of dreams left me crying and lonely, and I can't seem to shake off my association between orgasm and sadness. Weird? Probably, but hopefully interesting to some.

"Did you ever dream you had a friend? Someone to last your whole life and you his. I suppose such a thing can't really happen outside sleep." -E.M. Forster, author of "Maurice" I just finished this excellent book and found the quote so relevant and powerful. It exactly echoes my own innermost thoughts. How does this relate to masturbation? It does, although this is not the usual sort of story. This is about my dreams, specifically a wet dream that has somehow inhibited my ability to have an orgasm without breaking down into tears and sadness. I have been having a series of dreams for about 20 years, since I was a young preteen. They are not nearly always overtly sexual, although when they are, they are powerful (see more below). The star of the dream is a man, who is defined not by his looks but by his kind, intelligent eyes and the warmth and affection he exudes. Over the years, he has sometimes resembled a real life guy I admire, always one who is unattainable, whether gay or married. The dreams usually involve nothing more than me walking with him side by side, holding hands, sightseeing, going to the theater, whatever. The key is the intoxicating blend of friendship and physical desire that I feel for him. It doesn't take a psychoanalyst to deduce that these ongoing dreams are simply my deepest yearnings. To make a long story short, I live a fairly isolated life due to a complicated care giving situation. I'm actually a very social person, but my opportunities to meet people are limited, and that includes dating as well as platonic friends (of which I have some, of course, but these days they're mostly long distance.) The dreams are always intensely happy, until I wake up, when the sense of loss and emptiness is terribly painful. A few weeks ago, I dreamed that we were out to dinner and I was feeling him up under the table, my hand traveling further up his thigh until I could feel his cock. I lightly squeezed and teased it, making him laugh and then go a bit quiet as I whispered in his ear, "I want you." I am empathic by nature and this type of scenario turns me on so much, feeding off of the pleasure of another. The dream switched gears, as dreams do, and we were swimming naked together in the moonlight. He couldn't keep his hands off my breasts, caressing them and feeling my hard nipples. Having my breasts caressed drives me crazy, as if there's a direct link between them and my genitals. My back was to him as he delighted in my breasts and I leaned into him, sighing in pleasure and feeling his cock growing and pressing against me. I wriggled my ass against him and delighted in his enthusiastic response. Then we were in bed and I was delighting in his hard, throbbing, dripping cock, teasing him by playing with his balls and ignoring the area most yearning for attention, until I couldn't resist, stroking and sucking the sensitive head and underside, making him gasp and moan in pleasure as his orgasm built. "I can't help it, Sandra, I'm going to cum if you don't stop and I want you to cum with me," he panted, but I couldn't stop. I was building toward orgasm too, just from the excitement from what I was doing to him. He groaned as orgasm hit, and just as streams of cum were beginning to fly, my own orgasm hit me hard, so hard that it woke me up and the real life me cried out in my bed as pleasure exploded into pulsing waves or orgasmic bliss. I slipped a finger in to feel my pussy contracting and felt how slippery I was. A true wet dream only happens occasionally and waking up to an intense hands free orgasm is an incomparable experience. So why were tears running down my face? As I came down from my orgasm, the customary post-orgasmic bliss was overshadowed by my sobs. I always feel sad and empty after discovering that my latest special dream was fantasy like all the rest, but somehow this time was different. All these years, I have told myself that I will one day end up with the man in my dreams. But the older I get, the more I see of the world, the less likely it seems, and that seemed to hit me especially hard after this latest wet dream. Do most men even want what I have described, monogamy in the form of a deep friendship combined with sex? When you rarely get out and have no place of your own because of circumstances beyond your control, you can't exactly afford to be as choosy as I am when it comes to open-mindedness, kindness, intelligence and sense of humor. Thank goodness I don't have any physical requirements, but the same is not likely true of most men. Some are attracted to my body type, sure, if the attention I frequently get is any indication. (Yes, even fat and plain women get catcalled and hit on.) But I hate that type of attention, which makes me feel I'm being viewed as subhuman. I just fear that what men and women want is often different. I'm not painting all men with the same brush, but I am curious and would appreciate honest feedback from the men here: Would you rather have casual sex with as many beautiful women as possible, with no lasting ties, or monogamy with a not so physically perfect woman, but one with intelligence, sense of humor, kindness, who shares your interests and dreams? I fear that the evolutionary drive to procreate with as many different women as possible may win out, and that isn't men?s fault. But it is depressing to me, although a non-issue, since I truly have no time for a relationship anyway. All I know is that ever since my dream, reaching orgasm has made me cry. I still get the physical urge for stimulation and release, but the sadness so prevalent in the rest of my life now seems to have encroached on what was once a blissful escape from reality. I wonder if this has happened to anyone else. I am generally an optimistic person, so hopefully if I work at it, I can once again convince myself that my dream is not so impossible, and try to get my mojo back.

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