Dream from 11/23 in Book Five: Working Through the Maze 2018

WARNING: THE CONTENT OF THIS ENTRY IS SEXUALLY EXPLICIT. LANGUAGE, SUBJECT, AND CONTENT ARE ALL OF A POSSIBLY OFFENSIVE OR TRIGGERING NATURE.

I woke up this morning from a very graphic, enjoyable, sexual dream. But of course… when I wake up from those dreams, even when the dream “finishes”, I wake up disappointed. Seriously considered editing The Letter to include a portion about the emotional content of waking up after an intense sexual dream to an overwhelming sense of disappointment knowing that even a standard kiss IRL would be asking too much.

THE DREAM:

Tiffany 2 and I had hooked up for reasons beyond my understanding. It was us in the now for obvious reasons… largest one being that her already half-Japanese skin was much darker than ever when we dated because she’s been living in South America for 15 years (true irl). As happens in dreams, we went from talking to flirting to making out to in a bedroom naked with no transitions. I worshiped her breasts and she started rubbing herself begging me to do something down there for her. I gently laid her on her back and went down on her. It was very graphic and very detailed and there was no “time lapse” or “skipping of details”… it was a vigorous tonguing of her vagina with a very thankful and appreciative vocal response from the young woman. After she orgasmed and clung to my face, she begged me for my erection. We had sex until we were both drained and exhausted and passed out in a sweaty content pile of flesh and blankets.

Then it gets weird. Because I woke up and the woman next to me was not Tiffany 2 but she had the memory of what we did as though they were done to her. Tiffany 2 became a kind of version of Aoife that was more Nu Goth Emo Punk and taller and thinner. And my memory of events were altered as well because while I could remember it being with Tiffany 2, the more I tried to remember the events…it wasn’t the dark skin, dark haired vagina I remembered eating out but a pasty white skinned, thin long legs, wrapped around my head pushing me towards a bright pink vagina.

I propped myself up on my arm and looked over the baked beauty next to me. A traditional dancer’s body, white skin that would make most Goths envious, her hair cut into a pixie cut with pink hues going through it. Her breasts small but sensitive. As she woke up, we kissed passionately. She said, “That was fucking amazing last night. I know you have court, but I just want to get off one more time.” So she climbed on top of me and rode me until she came; the orgasm causing a convulsion through her body as she moaned long and loud before collapsing limply on my chest.

I got up and got into my suit, she got up and dressed into an interesting outfit. Fishnets with holes under a knee-length red skirt. Black boots with silver studs. She wore a gray punk band tank top over a fishnet undershirt, no bra. On top of that she wore a black leather trench coat and did her makeup with heavy black eyeliner, bright red lipstick and some blush. We entered the courthouse together and things went well at trial for a while. Then during a brief recess, someone came up to me and said, “You can’t have your whore in here!” And I got super pissed and made a note to destroy the man later. But for the time, I simply made sure he was looking at us before she gave me a big kiss and then a small kiss on the cheek. She said something super supportive to me, I thanked her for being a part of my life, and we shared a knowing look that said, “Wait ‘til tonight!”

Then I woke up with a large erection and a hollow feeling of disappointment.