I have happy dreams.

I looked up into the bleachers and saw him there, sitting patiently in the cool autumn weather waiting for me to hit the stage.  I was terrified and nervous.  My fellow talent show participant had rubbed my shoulders moments before and asked me what I was so afraid of.  I’d told her, “Well, this is pretty much my worst nightmare: performing a song whose words I don’t and a dance routine whose steps I also don’t know.”  I shrugged it off as I looked at him smiling back at me.  He was there with me.

I stretched out under fluffy covers and turned my head.  My eyes blinked open and he laid there on his side facing me.  “I just had a nice dream about you,” I said quietly, testing to see if he was awake.  He didn’t move.

I fluffed my pillow and sunk my head back into it, wondered if it was the one he’d “dedicated” to me all those long months ago during that magically hopeful day, and drifted off back to sleep, a smile on my face.

I’d come over the night before at 2 am after a long, cold night with friends huddled around a bonfire and a mass of goddamned hipsters with the sole intent to cuddle.

I pulled my hat down around my ears and tied my coat as I trudged up the stairs in the blistering cold.  I unlocked my door, but turned to knock on his.  He opened it smiling and pulled me inside.

I shook with a chill and he took my purse and phone and keys and set them on the coffee table.  He peeled off my jacket and hat.  As he slipped off my cardigan I noticed the house was spotless, candlelit and filled with spicy incense.  “Come on, you,” he said as he took my hand and led me to his bedroom.

Gone were the piles of clothes and tissues I’d noticed earlier in the day, the random chair.  Warm light flooded the space and his bed was turned down.  He swept his arm out in invitation before pushing me down on the bed and removing my boots, socks, and tights.  Still in my dress, I crawled under the covers and he quickly disrobed and joined me.

Nestled in his arms we talked about our nights and he pet my hair as I splayed my fingers through the pelt on his chest.  I removed the rest of my clothes and pressed my swells against his side, he trapped my icy feet between his warm thighs.

As I dozed off he excused himself to go play on his computer, said he might go to a coffee shop.  he was wide awake.  I drowsily wondered if he’d want me to leave, but fell asleep before I could do anything about it.  Some time later I felt him return to me and snuggle close.

When I awoke again later in the morning, we were facing each other again.  I closed my eyes and felt his hand reach for mine and place it on his erection.  It was hot and stiff.  We giggled conspiratorially as he coached me on the perfect handjob.  Soon, I gave up and fell on hit with my face.  Fuck that shit; it takes too long.

I lapped and slobbered and gripped and sucked until a distant pounding at the back of my skull forced me to stop.  “I think I have a hangover, TN.  I have to stop.  I’m so sorry.”  I’ve never stopped a blowjob before.

“It’s ok.  I have a plan B,” he said as he sat up and pushed me down.  He reared up between my legs and slid deep inside of me in one long thrust.  He stared into my eyes as I groaned and I peeked back up through my lashes.  “You like that??” he asked.

“Uh huh,” I moaned back.

We bucked and slammed into each other until my pussy squelched and I cried out for fear of death by pleasure.  I gripped the headboard and pushed with all my might against him.  His flanks pounded into me as my hands ran up his chest and across his shoulders.

He leaned back and swung my legs up together in front of me.  He rode me hard and swung his heavy hand on the softer undersides of my thighs.  With each thwack I cringed and almost screamed.  Pound, pound, pound.  Slap, slap, slap.

I could see him gazing at me through the gaps in my legs, helpless to move, dependent on him completely for my release and my salvation.  Warm climaxes washed over me and I sobbed dryly as he collapsed exhausted on top of me.

“I’m sorry I had to stop blowing you,” I said again, knowing he wasn’t really disappointed.

“I don’t care.  I love fucking you,” he replied.

We lay tangled in each other’s arms with blankets and sheets awry for a while longer until he suggested breakfast.  I wearily gathered my things and only just barely covered my nudity before jumping across to my doormat and my unlocked door.  I’d had a feeling I wouldn’t want to be fumbling with keys when I finally left his apartment.  I’m glad I’d thought ahead.