(blood, nudity, sex, profanity, body fluids...you've been warned.)
sleeping on someones' couch...a grandmother's, his or mine, I don't
know. had there been a funeral? was one impending? curled up under the
arm of my man, no one I know...he seemed older, edgy. in the morning,
he was gone, and I realized I had gotten my period during the night, and
that I wasn't wearing any pants. grandma was still asleep on the chair,
but there were two young children beside her, one half-waking, the
other awake. I picked up a pair of sweats from the floor in front of me,
and pull them up as I stand, dropping the blankets away, and glance
towards the children to see if they notice, but the girl is curling back
up to grandma to catch a few more winks, and the boy is looking away
with his hand over his eyes. hey, I did my best, and a glancing view of
my ass won't damage anyone severely, I think, as I make my way to the
bathroom to clean myself up, hoping there isn't a large bloodstain on
grandma's couch, waiting to be discovered under the blanket.
I bring a
wet rag with me on my return, and mop up the bloody half-foot and
toe-prints that tracked my path to the bathroom, wondering where they
came from, as my flow hadn't appeared to be coursing down my leg with
the veracity this evidence indicated. a man in navy slacks and a blue
oxford (no idea why that seemed relevant enough to share) had appeared
on the couch - younger than the one I had been snuggled up with the
night before - who watched me in a way that made me slightly
uncomfortable as I mopped my way across the floor on my hands and
knees. having returned to the bathroom to clean the rag, I went to
inspect the couch cushions, sparing a slightly annoyed glance for the
strange man. I mumbled "excuse me" as I pushed the blankets aside to
scrub at the small, light smear of red that thankfully came up readily
off the pearl-colored fabric. the man had stood while I scrubbed the
cushion, and as I folded the blanket, he came close and told me I was
beautiful, those dark eyes of his on me like a devouring.
"oh yeah?" I
replied, while glancing towards where Grandma and the two children had
been asleep - only to see they were gone, now. I sat down in the center
of the couch, trying to puzzle out where I was and why I was here, and
he sat down next to me, draping an arm across the back of the couch, and
began to play his fingers across my right shoulder, and up the side of
my neck. I turned my head to the right as I felt him touch me, then
turned to look back at him on my left, just as he leaned in to kiss my
left shoulder, right where it curves into my neck. instinctively, I drew in a
breath, and rolled my head back, as I felt my upper body lift into his
embrace.
"are you Greek?" he asked me, as he drew me closer, leaning
over me slightly. "no..." I breathed, confused and excited by his
advance. "Spanish?" he asked, as he maneuvered himself over me, and
pressed his body into mine. "no..." I shook my head and wondered just
what the hell was going on here, because I somehow knew that I wasn't
supposed to resist - that I was supposed to wait for my man of the night
before to come and 'save' me. the younger man on top of me was kissing
me, running his hands over my body, and generally indicating that he
was getting very excited. I was getting excited, too - excited at his
attentions, to be sure, but more so at knowing that at any minute, this
guy was going to come up against someone who considered me 'his' prized possession, who would deal with the interloper
accordingly. my allowing the advance gave my male companion the
opportunity to get all puffed up and act like a rooster by getting in a
fight over my honor, an experience I knew he would savor. (I also
couldn't help but notice that I magically knew the rules of the
intricate relationship I seemed to share with my edgy gentleman. the
gift of dreams is that it sends us perfect lovers - the tragedy is that
no Earthly partner can match them.)
so here comes my man on the scene,
and I react to him with my whole being as he walks straight towards us
on the couch, picks the guy up off me by the back of his clothing, and
tosses him...away, out of my sight range. I don't see, he's just gone.
I'm sitting up now, on the edge of my seat, vibrating in every cell as Mr. Thing approaches, undoing his belt and his pants. I can't get his cock in
my mouth fast enough, but he only lets me have it for a minute or so,
just enough to get it slick with spit before he sits beside me on the
couch, leans back into the arm, and uses my hand to get himself off
quickly, only coming a drop while staying hard. I look into his eyes
full of hope and desire - will he fuck me now, please? he thinks about
it, looks at me, asks if I wanted to fuck the young man who had been on
top of me, and I say yes, I would have fucked him. not for any reason
than he was there, and had taken such liberty. I can't imagine he'd
have been a very good lay, but I'd have let him have me and made a good
show of enjoying it. he asks me this because he knows I found the stranger's attentions arousing, but also because hearing it arouses my lover. (again, so interesting the level of
knowledge of this relationship) so I still really need him to fuck me,
and he agrees, but as I climb on top of him and feel him sliding in, I start to wake up...oh well, isn't that the way of it?
I
love the 'older, edgier gentleman' throwing the 'younger lover' out of
the scene! weird that it took place at someone's grandma's house, and
that I appeared to be bleeding from somewhere. the kids were weird, too
- one of them might have been a younger version of mine, the other, an
older version of one of my kid's friends. is it strange that I feel
somehow blessed to experience these sensual encounters by way of the
divine? some may say they're just dreams, and they are. some say I
dream about sex because I think about it a lot and get it never, which
would also be true. but there is a mythological poetry to making love
with the divine, joining in holy communion and touching the face of the
Absolute, so I'll go with that. interpretation to follow...
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