“Quarterly sales projections are down nearly eight percent, so as a result we’re going to see a slash in budgetary spending in every department until the next reports come through…”
Your eyes glazed over, unfocusing as you stared at the digital time display of the conference call phone, your boss’s voice a buzzing, indistinct drone. This conference call didn\’t have anything to do with your department anyways. You wondered if the co-worker seated beside you saw the way you moved your legs, and if he would simply assume you were just jittery, as eager to be out of this call meeting as everyone else.
You hoped so.
It wouldn’t do to have him notice the way your plump thighs pulsed together rhythmically, to have him wondering if you were aroused, if the subtle movement excited the delicious tingle between your legs.
You were and it did, but it wouldn’t do for anyone to know that, wouldn’t do at all.
You simply couldn’t help it. The end of the call meant the end of the workday, and the end of the workday meant you could go home. The sooner you went home, the sooner you could go to bed, and the sooner you went to bed, the sooner you could have the dream.
The dream had been all you’d thought of since waking that morning.
The weekend stretched before you with no plans, nothing that would keep you away from the softness of your mattress and the darkness of the room, from floating away on a cloud of pleasure for several days in a row as shadows crowded your mind. You had discovered if you retired early enough, while the sky was still lit with a muddled swirl of fading orange and indigo, you could manage to have the dream twice in a single night—two times the spine-arching pleasure, two times the leg-twitching, stomach-clenching convulsions.
It had first happened during the very first week in the new condo, your first real grown-up home of your own. It had been stressful, moving away for your first job after graduation, and that first week had been an anxiety-fueled roller coaster. Unpacking the new kitchen wares, waiting on the utility companies for hookups, figuring out where the grocery store and gas stations were, panicking yourself over the new job you’d start the following week…you’d dropped into bed in the middle of the afternoon after successfully putting together an overly-complicated Swedish lamp, in desperate need of something to take the edge off the stress you were feeling.
Your hand had wandered beneath the elastic waistband of your lounge shorts, rubbing slow circles against into your heat in an effort to relax, but it was no use.
The packing box containing the small travel case inside of a larger makeup bag– the hiding place for your vibrator while living under your parent’s roof between graduation and finding this new job– had not yet materialized, and you were simply too tense to be able to enjoy manual efforts. Plumping the pillow, you’d forced your eyes shut, hoping a midday nap would be enough to relax you.
The afternoon sunlight had seeped into the room at the edges of the hastily pulled curtains, but the room was oddly dark when you felt the bump against the front of your shorts.
When it came a second time, pressing into your mound, a spark of bliss arched your back and your legs fell open.
You couldn’t explain why you hadn’t looked down to the end of the bed, only that it hadn’t seemed important to do so, and too dark to see in any case. The room was swaddled in shadows, thick with an impenetrable darkness. Instead, you’d writhed in pleasure as it—whatever it was—pressed against your clit through the thin cotton barrier. A wide, thick tongue licked a stripe up the front of the panties before repeating the motion wetly, pulling a small moan from your throat. A deep grunt sounded in return, before licking again…and again, over and over, soaking the fabric as you cried out. When you’d seized, shaking with release, the grunt had come again, lapping at the new wetness that flowed from you. The heavy darkness crowded your mind, and the world slipped away
It must have been a dream, you’d realized upon waking. You were horny and came in your sleep. That would explain your sodden underwear, why your thighs slid together easily, still wet with release. A wonderful dream…
Curiously, you had the dream again the following week. Those first few days of work had been accompanied by all of the normal nerves associated with such a huge change, but your co-workers seemed friendly and the on-boarding straightforward. When you came home that Wednesday evening, it was with a lighter step than the previous two days.
The travel case inside of the makeup bag had been located, and the vibrator inside had accompanied you to the shower, your first orgasm of the night occurring beneath the water’s hot spray. You’d only been settled against the pillows for a short while when the already dark room seemed to grow darker.
The pressure had begun at your calf, slowly climbing up your leg, nosing at your skin, snuffling when it reached the junction of your naked thighs. You’d been unable to fully appreciate the texture of the thick tongue through the material of your clothes the first time you\’d had the dream, but then you\’d been bare, able to feel every bump of the foreign appendage—wide, velvety, and dripping with saliva. It had made quick work of lapping at your still slick folds greedily, and as you’d done the first time, your legs had fallen open at the sensation of being devoured in such a way.
Immediately the tongue had delved deeper.
Sliding through your folds, licking back and forth, the tongue had pressed into and circled your clit repeatedly before dragging down to seek the source of your nectar. Pressing into your tightness, it fucked you deeply, massaging your inner walls until you\’d been a gasping mess, gripping at your bedding, shuddering through another orgasm in no time.
It had gone on that way for weeks.
Now…now you were free—finally, blessedly free as the call ended, free to go home and settle into your bed, undisturbed for days with no responsibilities.
You liked your new job. The work was untaxing and the people were nice, although you keenly felt the cloak of invisibility placed on you by the men who populated the office building. The sensation of not existing to the opposite sex was one to which you were well-accustomed, particularly to the white collar set at work. You’d always been the great personality friend growing up, which had morphed into the even more patronizing such a pretty face in University.
Your weight had been a hurtful bone of contention with your mother since your teen years: well-meaning yet cutting judgment over your dress size, not-so-subtle laments over your single status, and eagle-eyed monitoring of every single thing you’d put in your mouth. You loved your parents, but moving away had been a relief.
You weren’t in a hurry to be in a relationship, not when you were finally independent enough to work on yourself…and for the moment, the dreams were filling the gap of having someone to share your bed.
You settled back, eagerly anticipating the darkness that would pull you into unconsciousness.
The dream began as it always did, with a snuffling pressure moving up your leg, pressing at your full thighs until you relented, opening your legs to its exploration. It made quick work of your first climax, having learned what sort of pressure you like and how to get you off efficiently.
You’d tried googling intelligent dreams once, curious as to what part of your brain was at play, but nothing you’d read described anything like what you’d been experiencing several times a week for the better part of the last few months.
You were surprised then, when the darkness did not recede, allowing you to wake up as it normally did.
The tongue was not done, nor was it alone. A slick, slippery appendage tickled at your foot, caressing each of your toes and smoothing up the arch, curling around your ankle as it journeyed up your bare leg, before it was joined by another. A million tongues, you thought happily, wondering if this augmentation to your normal dream was a manifestation of how relieved you were to go home that day. Not tongues…tentacles. The slick appendages seemed too slippery and muscular to be tongues, although they caressed you in the same way.
It occurred to you, as one of the thick limbs wrapped around your middle, flipping you to your stomach with ease, that you probably shouldn’t be capable of such contemplative thoughts in a dream, but you didn\’t have the opportunity to explore the thought further. You were filled then, one of the slippery tentacle-tongues plunging into you over and over, thicker than the tongue you’d grown used to, with an unceasing rhythm no cock could hope to match.
Filled to the brim, the thick length undulated within you, finding and caressing that spot within until you were keening out your pleasure, the sound of your cries swallowed by the pillow your face was pressed to. The tongue chose that moment to make its return. Sliding around the pumping tentacle, it sought out that aching bundle of nerves, dripping with lubrication as it moved over you, tonguing you hungrily.
It did not stop until you came again, arched in pleasure and gasping your release as your body shook, the greedy tongue unceasing in its movement until you shuddered from the overstimulation. It was then that the darkness in the room began to recede, the dim evening light illuminating the corners as you rolled to your back. Your eyelids were heavy, so heavy as the slippery appendages slid back down your legs, licking at your feet as they disappeared.
You lifted your head.
You didn’t know why you attempted it, for it lolled as soon as you completed the movement, your neck unable or unwilling to support it, but it was just long enough for you to see what appeared to be several slithering black tendrils disappearing over the end of your bed.
That’s silly, you thought blearily, settling back into the pillows once more, letting the darkness press you down.
It was only a dream.