Rude Awakening

The setting sun bathes me in warm yellow light as I stand high above the ground in the little attic window.  Peering out into the yard below old but beautiful antique cars are parked haphazardly in the gravel driveway leading to the house.  Well-dressed young men and women gather around the cars and under a giant tree whose golden leaves shimmer against the brilliants of an azure autumn sky.  Downstairs a crowd is gathering, muffled voices, indistinguishable chattering, an occasional laugh, echo up the stair, penetrate the floor.  I’m secluded here under the unfinished ceiling, among old gray rafters, musty boxes and long discarded furniture.  I’m alone here, safely escaping the revelers below.

My unbuttoned light gray trousers and pale blue cotton boxers lay open across my legs, splayed out slightly to keep pants and all from falling to the floor.  The tales of my clean white shirt dangle against my pale, naked ass and thighs, the open fly of the shirt exposing my sex, my stiff erection protruding through its slit.  Distracted from the gathering crowds below my hand firmly strokes the length of my rigid, swollen and sore, rosy red shaft and its magenta head.  Through dreamy eyes I watch the glide of my hand as it passes up and down the thick shaft, blood surging into the fat, twisting blue-green vein running its length to a swelling mushroom head.  A warm wave of pleasure washes over me, rippling from the tender underside of my cock head, through the shaft, then my core to my extremities, hands and feet.  A strong urge to cum ebbs and flows, but none come.

Suddenly there is a creak on the stair, very close, then another and footsteps climb rapidly up.  Panic seizes me, I scramble to dress and hide my debauchery, but too late, she has caught me.  Seized by embarrassment, my face reddened, I stand erect in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun, my red and swollen cock throbbing with every beat of my heart.  There, amidst the clutter of the old attic she stares at me through glimmering sapphire eyes, first with surprise, then with lustful curiosity.  Watching her as she stares in bewilderment at my throbbing hardon I slowly begin again, stroking my eager erection.

Waves of long black hair frame a youthful, pale white face, caress her delicate shoulders.  She moves forward, sleepy eyes watching me stoke myself.  She is wearing a lovely white dress, adorned with delicate crimson lace, a wide skirt stops just above her knees.  Clenching in her teeth the lower of her rosy lips she reaches down with long slender arms, slowly begins lifting the skirt.  Inch-by-inch the skirt is raised, revealing slender pale white thighs.  My masturbatory beating stops as the dress is finally drawn up to her waist, exposing wisps of thick black hair covering the mound between her legs.  As she reveals herself a surge passes through me, causing me to convulse, my vision briefly tunneled and blurred.  For and instant I expect long ropes of sticky white cum to spew from my pulsating erection, but recovering I realize climax has not come, no thick and sticky white globs have splattered to the old wood floor, dribbled on my trousers or slathered my stroking hand.

Finding an old sofa, she lays back, spreads her legs for me, revealing the soft pink lips of her pussy adorned with wisps of thick black hair.  A trickle of glistening liquid dribbles gingerly from between her lips as long, dainty fingers begin to stroke the little electrified nub crowning her sex.  White and red fabric adorn her waist and torso, while another hand exposes a full, pale breast, begins messaging the supple flesh, cupping and pinching its small maroon nipple.

Holding my sore, red and swollen erection a strange unnatural feeling overcomes me, makes me question the reality of the vision.  Standing with my pants draped around my thighs, I realize I’m watching a lovely young woman I do not know masturbate in an odd old house I do not recognize.  It’s all to surreal; she is close but oddly unafraid, somehow knowing she is safely isolated from me as my pants, like a heavy lead weight, hold my feet firmly to the floor so that I cannot move to approach her.  It seems too much like watching a young woman performing a pornographic act for my entertainment, seeing without touching, all out of my control.

Then the sound of people approaching radiates through the attic, loud voices, clomping feet on the stair warns me that we must move quickly or be discovered, exposed.  I abandon my pants and move half naked deeper into the old attic, where curiously I discover a dark stair leading somewhere downward.  I do not see her, but somehow know she is following me, and together we slink away into the darkness until we arrive at a little door that miraculously opens into the great yard, just ahead the trunk of the great tree looms large.  Ignoring my nakedness from the waist down I stroll nonchalantly across the yard, a cool breeze tickling my extended manhood, the warm sun caresses my naked ass.  The revelers gathered in the yard seem oblivious to me as I cross to the trunk of the great tree, reaching it astonishingly unnoticed and surprised to find her already there.

Somehow, she lost her dress on our way to the tree, completely naked, her once pale white skin now a delicious honey tan shimmering in the warm sun.  Bent at the waist, her supple, plump, round backside blazes in the brilliant sunshine, thin wisps dark hair protruding from between her naked thighs.  She hugs the massive trunk of the mighty tree, curiously peering around its enormous circumference, watching the revelers in the yard.  She turns to watch me, places her index finger over her mouth, the universal symbol for “shh”, then she slips a hand between her legs, gently separates her soft pink lips, probing the wet opening just under the little sunflower of her bum.  Clutching the tree, a finger sinks into the fleshy folds between her legs.

Intently watching her slide a glistening finger in and out of her love canal, the flower of her bum opening then puckering with every plunge, I renew my stroking, imagining my orgasm drowning the supple cheeks and flower of her butt in sticky spunk.  My beating intensifies as my orgasm approaches, wave after wave of pleasure splashes over me with every stoke of my hand.  My climax is close now, slick precum glistens the throbbing mushroom head as I stand over her, ready to shoot sticky loads over her plump round ass.  Then, suddenly voices interrupt, laughter close by, and a strange creaking noise interrupts our debauchery.  The object of my masturbatory lust suddenly stands, hugs the gnarled trunk, stares in astonishment at the sudden interruption.

My heart stutters, my stiff, swollen and sore erection bouncing with each erratic beat.  Cautiously I glance around the trunk at the source of the intrusion, and much to my surprise I see a knot of hansom young men watching a lovely young woman soaring back-and-forth on a large swing descending from a high branch in the tree.  Giggling childishly, her yellow dress and strawberry blond hair fluttering in the breeze, the girl on the swing sores ever higher into the golden leaves, the men pushing with each pass while she pumps her legs back-and-forth, disappearing momentarily into the golden leaves.

Astonished at the bizarre intrusion I back away from the swinging girl and her entourage to discover the naked woman has disappeared.  My heart sinks with disappointment, so close to climax, the opportunity lost.  Quietly I wander across the yard, ducking behind the old cars to conceal my embarrassing nudity.  Inspecting the beautiful old cars, I seem to go weirdly unnoticed by the people mingling around.  Holding myself I wonder if I should quit, allow the dreamy interlude to fade into oblivion.  But then I notice an open car door in a large car, painted a radiant crimson, adorned in shimmering chrome.  My heart suddenly races again with anticipation.

She is there, laying in the back seat of the car on velvety soft upholstery, her knees drawn up to her shoulders, held tight with one arm wrapped around the back of her legs, exposing her smooth round rump, swollen clit, glistening pussy lips, pink flower of her butthole.  Watching me with sleepy blue eyes she traces the tender fold of her inner labia with two fingers, then in a brazen display spreads her fingers, opening the canal between her thighs.  My heart jumps, pounds in my chest rushing blood to my brain, limbs, stiffening erection.  It’s seems almost inconceivable, this delicate, lithe beauty, engaging in such an obscene display of her reproductive anatomy.  Then she stretches out a delicate middle finger, folds the others under to form the universal hand symbol for “fuck you” and vigorously rubs her clit with the end of the profanity.

I am drawn to her now, a strong urge to lick and suck her swollen lips and clit overwhelming me.  Sinking to my knees on the jagged gravel in the open door of the car I lean in close to her, eager to sink my tongue into her gaping hole, taste her salty wetness, lick her asshole, bring her to orgasm sucking her clit.  Lowering my head, tongue extended, ready for my first taste, she firmly clutches her thighs spreading herself ever wider, opening herself even more to me.  Glaring into her gaping hole I vigorously beat myself ever closer to orgasm.  I can almost taste her now, but then a sudden shock, rapid, even painful spasms rush thick sticky goo through the length my cock, drowning its head, saturating his confining underwear and flannel pajamas.

My eyes open to dark surroundings, the dream still vivid in my memory, I lay motionless for a short time, remembering, while the slimy goo in my pants cools, saturates my crotch.  Eventually reaching into my pants I stick my hand into the slimy mess, making sure I’m not imagining my orgasm.  “Ah, jeez,” I groan softly realizing I’m going to need a change of clothes.  Then quietly fold back the covers, gently roll out of bed careful not to wake the woman lying next to me.

Softly descending the stairs to the laundry I get lucky and find a pare of clean shorts, strip off the soiled and dump it in the basket of dirty clothes, making a mental note to get up early and put on a load of laundry before the embarrassing mess is discovered.  Then ducking into the bathroom, I wash the slime from my crotch and wonder about my sudden spat of wildly obscene wet dreams, this evening’s being the third in as many weeks.  Although I can’t deny enjoying them, I can’t help wondering why now I’m having these vivid, pornographic dreams.  As I stand over the toilet to take a piss it occurs to me that I’ve been watching a lot of porn lately, wondered if, maybe, it really isn’t good for me.  So, I reasoned, it would be a good idea to find a hobby, something to distract me from what I fear has become a pathologic obsession.  And there, as I shake the last dribbles of clear liquid from my bladder into the toilet, I decided to take up writing – porn (naturally).