A New Day

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A New Day by SpectreOfHell Normally, Patrick couldn’t remember his dreams. There were vague after-images of things, people, places, but nothing really coherent. Instead, he recalled emotions. Fear, anxiety, happiness. Sometimes, rare times, he realized he was dreaming while the dream was unfolding, allowing him to take control of things. Those dreams were the shortest, as if his mind didn’t want him directly connected to his subconscious. So as he woke that morning, he wondered exactly what it was that was happening. Was he dreaming? If so, he could do something about the strange sensation he was experiencing. The bed was shifting beneath him, his legs were being raised into the air. Something prodded him. He was relaxed, unafraid, so when the prodding became insistent, he opened his eyes slowly, wondering if this was waking, or if he was dreaming of being awake. He saw an astonishingly beautiful woman looming above him. Her hair was very dark brown and long enough to almost cover her large breasts. Her skin was tanned except for two triangular patches over her nipples. Which were erect. She was looking down. He noticed that his legs were being held up in the air by her hands around his ankles. Delicate, feminine hands. He knew he could break free at any moment, but something told him to wait. He felt the prodding connect below his Tunalı escort bayan line of sight. Something stiff was pushing its way inside him. He’d had this dream before, he recalled. Once or twice, at least. He was a woman in the dream, and he was being made love to. It always made him wake up when his dream-self was penetrated. The woman moaned very softly as the pressure in his sphincter increased. He was being stretched down there, but not unpleasantly so. His cock, he saw, was rock hard. The woman eased her hips back and pushed forward again. She must have applied lubricant, Patrick thought, because the thing she was prodding him with slid even deeper inside him. He told himself he should be awake by now, that he didn’t want to be fucked, even if it was by a beautiful woman. Yet…it felt nice. He felt pleasantly full. Not like when he had to use the bathroom, no. It was different. She pushed, he felt her shaved crotch meet his. She struck something inside him that made exquisite sensations of pleasure ripple through his body. No, not struck. Squeezed. Her girth put pressure on something. It felt…good. She eased back and sank into him again. “Oh, fuck,” she groaned. Her voice was raspy, sexy. She noticed his eyes were open and smiled brilliantly at him. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist having Escort ulus you again,” she said. Patrick blinked. He felt the coolness of the sheets, saw sunlight filtering through the shades, smelled jasmine and sex in the air, and he knew suddenly that he was not dreaming. This was really happening. She pulled back and pushed into him again, sinking deeply, moving slowly. The squeezing pressure came again, the same pleasure. His toes curled. It was surreal. He was being fucked by a woman. He lifted his head, craning his neck for a better look, lifting up onto his elbows… She wasn’t wearing a strap-on. It was her. She had a dick. He was being fucked by a shemale. “Oh, God,” he groaned, half in horror, half in…he wasn’t sure. “Yeah,” the shemale moaned in agreement. She was quivering as she fucked him, moving her slender cock in and out of Patrick’s asshole slowly, sinking in as deeply as she could on every stroke. “Hey, you started without me,” a voice complained. Patrick looked to his right, to the doorway, where a short woman stood. Very short, he saw. The top of her head just cleared the doorknob. She was wearing one of his t-shirts, his old AC/DC concert shirt. It hung like a nightgown on her small body. She grinned as she walked into the room, peeling off the shirt, revealing her naked body. yenimahalle escort Like most little persons, she had shorter than average arms and legs, but it wasn’t very noticeable. She had tiny breasts, small pointed cones on her pale chest capped with pink nipples. Below, her pussy was neatly trimmed, her pubes as blonde as the hair on her head. She climbed up onto the bed with only a little difficulty, stretching her body out next to his. She grasped his cock in one of her small hands and stroked him. Immediately, his cock began to drool precum. He watched her wipe it off before licking the goo from her fingers. Then she kissed him. He could taste himself on her tongue. A normal man, he told himself, would have recoiled in horror, but he didn’t. This was familiar, somehow. She was a good kisser, too, her tongue dancing a waltz around his inside his mouth. He snaked an arm around her torso, pulling her closer. Her kiss increased in passion. Patrick’s mind was spinning. He had two beautiful women in his bed and no memory of how they had gotten here. True, one was a shemale and the other a little person, the last two types of female he ever expected to score with, but that only made the mystery stranger. He remembered his friends insisting on taking him out to console him after his breakup. He remembered the first bar fairly clearly, the second with only fragmentary memory, and after that… He was not a heavy drinker, so it had not taken much to get him black-out drunk. What really confused him was his apparent lack of a hangover. Then again, he remembered telling himself when the night began to drink plenty of water.

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