There are nights when it's three a.m. and the world is asleep...you're the only one up and it seems like you just don't have that much to lose...when you could pack your bags without looking back and slip quietly from the safety of the world that you occupy. For me, it's always been true that I haunt the nights...I turn out the lights, turn on my cd made specifically with songs that allow my muse to flow and then I close my eyes and type. But here in Germany, this morning is interesting. I am watching other mothers take their children to school and I'm thinking... "Ladies, how is your sex life?" I just want to ask, "When is the last time he made you scream?"
We all know that my husband is gone so much that much of what occupies my brain is the rich imagination that I was gifted with. So when I write what I'm about to write...keep an open mind, because...well, it is my fantasy...
Last night was not like any other...I took the dog out for a last walk, showered and got the kids ready for bed, put the dishes away, another load of laundry in the dryer, mopped the floor...and collapsed into a scented bubble bath and called my best girlfriend. I told her that I'd had these weird dreams lately and that the dreams were so real I would wake up, no kidding, satisfied. Lucky for me she was always good for a naughty story and loved my ability to spin a tail...so when she said, "Ohhh tell tell." I obliged her.
I knew that I was dreaming...I knew it in my dream, but I could feel him next to me. I have no idea who he is. Only that he is the most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on. He's the one who I want most in this world. His touch his so achingly sweet he inspires the softer side of me and my tears run freely while we make love. In my dream, he has no name...no distinct facial features that I could recognize if he were ever to materialize and become real. But he is a large man, fair skinned, with calloused hands. In my dream as we are laying in my king sized bed, underneath the fluffy down comforter and we are giggling as he snuggles up behind me and pulls me close to him. He is whispering naughty things in my ear as his hand slides up my legs, telling me how smooth they are, how he can't wait to feel them wrapped around him. In my dream, there are no clothes...just that comforter and his warmth to keep me covered and warm. I roll into him and give him my mouth for a searing kiss and I feel his body move over top of mine and my legs part for him. We do this dance as if we've done it for years and years and we know the rhythm intimately and already know the steps. I feel him, heavy and swollen, waiting for me to accept him...to meet him at that point where I need him and want him more than my next breath. He kisses me and trails his lips and tongue down my body to the tips of breasts that peak and pebble underneath his exquisite skill. The love bites he grants me, marks me..as if he worries that another would should come and try to be where he has been. I jump under each nibble and he soothes the mark with his tongue and a kiss. Suckling each patch of skin until it is sensitive and I am giggling from the intensity. He smiles as I laugh and giggle....he knows it's a reflection of how sensitive my body is and he enjoys knowing that he's made it possible for me to have such a heightened state of arousal that I can be like this, here, with him. Only him.
I feel my thighs drop wider and my feet curve around his large, muscular thighs and I grasp his ass and pull him into me. What amazes me is that it always feels so real, so right, worth so damn much to me that in this instance, writing it out makes it more real. I tell my girlfriend how good it feels when he rocks deep inside me and inadvertently a little moan escapes as I retell the story of his lovemaking and how he pulls me upwards to sit on his lap. How we rock together with the rhythm of the rain that is hitting my window pane and my nails are clutching his shoulders...holding me as close to him as I can get. My orgasm sending me over the edge. I'm not gonna lie and tout multiple orgasms during every sex session...c'mon now, get real...but I will tell you the truth. In each of these dreams...I was granted the beauty of a single, earth quaking, body rocking orgasm that lifted me so high and forced me to splinter into a million pieces as I floated back down and watched his body tense as he prepared for his own to follow. His breathing was labored in my ear and he laid me back down on the bed. He rocked me back and forth and I held his hips fast in my hands, murmuring to him, asking him for more, demanding that he come for me. That he give me his climax...that it was mine and I wanted it. I reached up and sucked gently on the lobe of his left ear and his mouth closed around my breast...his pace picked up faster and faster and faster until he managed to ground out through clenched teeth, "I'm coming, baby." and I wrapped my legs around his narrow waist, holding on for dear life and bucked my hips underneath him and drawing out the intensity of his climax with everything inside of me.
"Then what?" My friend breathlessly asked me.
"Then what, what?" I replied. "I woke up. I was drenched in sweat, satisfied and in need of a shower."
"No way." She said. "That is too much."
I swore on my honor that I had been having these dreams since my husband left for the field almost two weeks ago. She swore on hers that it was a ghost. That I was making love to the ghost of a dream lover each night.
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