Thursday, April 14, 2011

Shadow Lover

I’d been dreaming. I couldn’t tell you what about—tall buildings, certainly, and streets full of people. Clear, bright skies, and a leaf-scented breeze. Beyond that, I can’t recall. The noise of my phone vibrating in its charger was like a bar of ordinary household soap dropped into a tub overflowing with delicate, aromatic bubbles; the dream immediately fizzed away and evaporated into a dirty ring at the edge of my consciousness.

Nothing of it remained when I opened my eyes a few seconds later. The older I get, the longer it seems to take for me to come to consciousness in the middle of the night. I realize quickly that I’m in bed, but which of the many beds in which I’ve slept am I? The bed of my childhood, hemmed in by bookcases, or the bed of my first apartment, fourteen stories off the ground? Is the bed of my first house, tucked away in a corner on the second floor?

The choices spun in my brain like a reel of a slot machine until I realized that I was in my own bed, in what has been my home for thirteen years, and will be so for another six weeks. It was nearly five in the morning, according to my bedside clock. And the screen of my phone was blinking off, but not before I saw that I’d received some kind of text, or message.

I’ll be frank. I hate it when people try to call after my bedtime, or too early in the morning. It arouses an irrational kind of rage in me that can only be soothed with a good strangling. Usually I’ll ignore any texts I receive after a certain hour, but I was awake enough—and curious enough—to grab my glasses, clumsily shift them onto my nose, and peer at my phone’s screen. I’d missed three messages.

Hey buddy I know it’s late but I am in Ur area, said the first. Apparently it had arrived a couple of hours before, and I’d slept through its announcing buzz. It was from the Greek, the hot, lean little muscle stud from a couple of weeks ago. U around if I drop by later?

The second and third message had come in only a minute before. Listen if U get this I am parked outside Ur house. I’ll stay here for 10 minutes. If U want me 2 come in, flip on the front light and I will come in and come up to your bed. Hope U get this buddy.

My urge to strangle someone was forgotten. I’d mentioned to the Greek my current situation, separated from the family until my final move. As normally irritated as I might have been by the early-morning intrusion, the memory of our last hot fuck session made me feel a little more generous in spirit.

My dick rose beneath the sheets, as if knowing the texts had arrived especially for it. I considered the way I probably looked, with my crazy Bozo hair and an appearance as generally rumpled as the pillowcases. I slipped out of the bed and, in the nude, crossed to the front of the house. The cat that had been sleeping with me hopped down and rubbed around my leg. Sure enough, the guy’s showy muscle car was parked outside my house, still running, lights on. I’m probably not real presentable, I texted back, after a pause.

Don’t fucking care what U look like, came the text. Let me take care of U.

I thought about it a moment, popped a breath mint, then walked down the stairs and flipped on the porch light. Before I sprinted back up to the bedroom, I turned the lock in the door.

At that time of morning, and in my tree-lined neighborhood, only a few stars and a distant street light kept it from being pitch black. I was lying on my bed with my dick in hand and my sheets pulled back when I heard the door open and shut below. I listened to the footsteps on the staircase, and their old wood creaking. I saw a shadow hove into the room. He said nothing. First I heard one thud, then another, as he kicked off his sneakers. A faint shimmer of sound announced the dropping of his sweat pants. Then finally I heard him skimming off his shirt.

He found me by touch. His hand landed by chance on my calf, and then felt his way up to my knee and past my thigh. He claimed his prize when his hand wrapped around my stiff inches. The bed shuddered as he hopped onto it, and then I felt his lips around my shaft.

He was hungry. Without hesitation he went all the way down on my dick, not caring that the last shower I’d taken had been the morning before. He cleaned my dick of sheet lint and the day’s piss and precum and impaled his throat with it, moaning to himself as he sucked. I reached down and let my palm rub over his buzzed head.

When he clambered forward and roughly ground his mouth against mine, I was glad I’d taken that mint. His own breath was freshened as well. The stubble of his face ground hard through my beard and against my jaw. He pulled his hips so that they hovered over mine. Then he didn’t so much lower himself onto my upright cock as reverse-spear it with his hole. It was as if he jabbed down in one determined, savage motion, as if his hole knew exactly where to snatch at my rod. There was absolutely no resistance as I slid in him. His chute was not only warm, but already wet. Very wet.

Several loads wet.

I could feel other men’s sperm slicking up my dick as he began to raise and lower himself on top of me. I could only see his silhouette in the darkness, but my hands could feel his posture. I imagined him grinding my dick with his ass as he held himself erect, shoulders back, head lolling back as he let out the grunts of pleasure and need that punctuated the night. His own dick, restrained and bound in a ring of leather, had the spongy hardness of a man who’d been playing for several hours.

I tried to roll him over so I could pound him, but he wouldn’t let me. His gruff, deep voice cut through the dark. “Pretend you’re sleeping,” he said, pushing me back down. “And I’m the good dream you’re having.”

I laid back down, seduced by the idea of it. “So, how many?” I asked, after a few moments.

He knew exactly what I was asking. “Four since midnight,” he said. “Give me number five, then I’ll be out of your way.”

In a way, the fuck in the pitch black did seem like a dream. I was close enough to sleep that all I had to do was close my eyes, and I’d find myself drifting and dozy, though kept from sinking back into my dreams by that insistent ass clamped down on my meat as it rose and fell and clenched and loosened. I have an ordinary mattress and box springs, but so intense were the tides of pleasure that I felt as if I were floating on warm water, bobbing up and down upon the waves.

He said nothing. The grunts he released betrayed his own pleasure. His dick, halfway between soft and hard, flopped heavily against my stomach. It left a trail of ooze wherever it landed. When I began to moan more loudly and my own hips rose and ground into him, the closer I got, he leaned forward once more and kissed me. His tongue darted in and out, slippery between my lips.

“Give it to me,” he commanded, his face close to mine. His hips buckled violently, demanding the load. “Give it to me, buddy.” His growls grew more insistent. “I want it. Fucking give it to me.”

When I released, it was with a heartfelt cry of mingled shock and amazement. His hands clutched my forearms, pinning me down to the bed as he pulled his ass down as deeply as it could go. He rested there for a moment, and then very carefully pulled off.

The pressure on my arms and upper body abated. I felt him shift; his shadow receded. Then I felt warm breath on my dick, and the sensation of his mouth on my still-wet shaft. He cleaned off his own juices slowly, carefully, and with an obvious relish. Little whimpers of pleasure issued from his nose and the corners of his mouth as he engulfed the entire shaft, trying to get every drop.

When he finished, I again attempted to sit up. He pushed me back down, and lifted the sheets from the floor and covered me with them. “You go back to sleep,” he told me. “I’ll let myself out.”

I heard birds, over-eager for a dawn that was still a long time coming, chirping when he opened the front door after his stealthy trip downstairs. After the door shut, there was silence, then the sound of a car door closing and of his engine as he pulled away. My dick was still tingling as I lay there flat on my back, marveling at his hunger.

When I awoke again into the daylight, a couple of hours later, I wondered if it might have been a dream after all. But there on my phone were our messages, letting me know that my unseen lover had been more than a thing of shadow and sheer will.


  1. LOL. The last time Marcus drove from Alabama to fuck me, he was too tired to have sex, so we cuddled in bed. But I woke up in the middle of the night, and his cock was hard. So I lowered myself down on it.

    I rode him for a while, but pulled off before he came.

    When we woke up, I told him what I'd been doing in the night. He said he dreamed he'd been sinking in quicksand. :)

  2. Writer,

    That's the kind of quicksand I wouldn't mind. Sexy.

  3. Yummy story. Waking up to a fresh, cum-lubed hole. Jealous!

    Hmmmm. "and will be so for another six weeks." Does this mean we have finally sold the homestead?


  4. Definitely redefines "rude awakening" huh? And "curb service" too. Hot to imagine the Greek roamin' around in the wee hours needing more cock and cum. He knew just where to get it!

  5. Gee I woke from a dream this morning right at the point where I was about to give a blow job to a dentist sitting in the drivers seat of my car. But the only real thing after that was getting up and getting ready for work. I hate when I wake up from a dream before the best part.

    I like what happens after you wake up from you dreams

  6. I picked up on that obvious snippet -- 6 weeks. No wonder Spencer's been freaking out. I imagine there will be a hiatus from real-time stories and we'll be reading of previous (Earl?) experiences. Of course, there is also the NYC muscle guy. Anonymous Rimmer

  7. Amazingly, spectacularly hot. What can I say? Lucky bottom? Lucky top? see you some time after six weeks?


  8. That's what i call a great way of waking up and you can imagine, a dream like that would be amazing, a wet dream for real and the stress is out without making any moves or effort. That is what i call a goog relaxation. I would love to have that kind of dream too from time to time.
    You made my dick sprung up again today my friend as always, just keep the good work and have a great day man.


  9. VersBearCub,

    Yep, that's what it means.

  10. cyberi4a,

    I think I like my dreams better, too. The dentist is not a favorite of mine.

  11. Rimmer,

    I hope reading about past experiences isn't too much of a burden.

  12. M.B.,

    Thanks, and let's hope you will!

  13. Yves,

    I've never had a wet dream, so I'll have to take your word on that one. :)

  14. That's the kind of 'intruder' that porn movies are made of. Who knew real life could supersede art. :)

  15. It's those final early morning hours when I usually get good sleep. And make me most annoyed when I don't get them, for whatever cause. You have my sympathy on that account.
    In this case, your recompense is fairly commensurate with the aggravation. What a hot story! Even with the drowsy, drifting feel to it. Thanks to the Greek for getting it out of you.