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There's Something About Fucking a Married Couple - That Dream (2)

"When they begin to haunt Scott's dreams..."

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I woke up from 'that dream' again. It's only been a week, but already it's become 'that dream.' It's just like that video she sent me. Well, not just like. In this dream, it's my stiff prick that the lovely lady slobbers all over.

Oh, it's a lot like that video, but not quite. She sucks my cock and slaps it against her rosy cheeks. She speaks all manner of obscenities that would make a sailor blush. Her husband becomes the enamoured onlooker feverishly tugging his cock.

Just like the video so far? I suppose you could say it is. But that is why it has become 'that dream.' In my dream, her husband watches and licks his lips and encourages her to perform. But then, he is suddenly on his knees next to his wife, with his fingertips grazing against my balls as he admires me.

He holds himself in one hand, massaging my balls with the other while his wife deepthroats my dick.

I see all the little details, like the precum glistening on his cock and his long eyelashes when he glances up at me, grinning.

Next thing I know, he is sucking one nut and then the other - popping them in and out of his mouth like candy. All the while, his wife continues to suck my cock, running her fingers through her husband's hair. I feel his manhood pressed against my leg as he sidles closer. His mouth roams freely all over my loins.

Before long, husband and wife are kissing each other and smacking their lips against my prick while they do it. It feels like their tongues are having a wrestling match, and the tip of my cock is the ring. They work their mouths in unison, one on either side of my shaft, jerking me off between their lips.

It feels so real. It's as if I can feel their hands groping and touching me. Even in my dream state it's intoxicating not knowing whose finger is where, or whose hand cups my balls. A fingernail traces a path down my inner thigh. A tiny wet finger wriggles its way into my asshole.

It's a chaotic maelstrom of hands and tongues everywhere. I take pleasure in losing myself in their loving embrace. Time slows and then stands still. Nothing exists except those tender caresses.

Together, they suck me, and I love it. Abruptly, my lovely lady withdraws, fixing her hair and wiping spittle from her chin. She sits gracefully on the edge of a bed, her eyes sparkling with mirth. In that instant, she is flawless. She carefully licks her lips before she speaks.

"Mmm.

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Perfect. Now finish up for my hubby," she says. "Cum down his throat. He loves it."

It's a dream, so I don't hear her say it, but I feel her musical voice inside my head. She wants me to cum for her, to fill her husband's mouth with my cream. I don't want that, do I?

I know my heart races at the thought, because every time I have this dream, that's the part when I wake. Every time her husband places his hands on my hips, grins at me, and opens his mouth wide to swallow me, I wake up. Just like that. Every fucking time, I wake up.

I've had that dream three times in the last week. Three times this week, I have taken my cock in my hands, squeezed my eyelids shut, and played that dream over in my head.

"Mmm, Paula. You want that? You want me to fuck your husband's mouth and flood it with my jizz?"

I stare at the back of my eyelids, desperately willing her husband to caress me with his tongue. I want her hands on the back of his head, driving my rod deep into his mouth. I want to hear the sting of her words as she calls her husband a whore and a slut.

"You naughty bitch. You're going to send me over the edge. I'm going to hold his shoulders and bury my cock between his lips while you watch," I say breathlessly to myself.

Three times this week I have felt my cum splash on my stomach and my chest. Three times, I have drawn in a rush of breath, surprised by the violence of my climax. Three times this week I have opened my eyes to stare at my alarm clock with the name "Eric" on my lips.

That's about the time that I curse myself for being foolish, fish an article of clothing off the floor, and wipe myself down. I try not to think about him, or her, as I shower and get ready for my day.

A dream is just a dream, right? I only climax so hard because of the sheer depravity of it, I think. I'm straight. I was married for two decades, and never once thought about another man. I settled my curiosity in college many years ago, didn't I?

A little voice in the back of my mind urges me to wonder what would come next, if 'that dream' didn't always end. Twice as many hands and mouths and willing holes conjure up countless possibilities.

When I leave for work on those mornings, there is a spring in my step and a smile on my face. Whatever the reason, I go to work happy. Those days, everything seems right in the world.

To be continued...

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Written by Couple4Play
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