Thesandman: Dream Walker

"What?" The only word spoken, but it spoke volumes.

Barbara had, with one simply spoken word interjected a hundred unanswered questions.

"Don't fight it Barbara. I am here for you, right here, right now. And I want you, and I'm not going away until I have you." I gathered her in my arms then, carried her into the bedroom where the sheets were already turned down, awaiting her? Us? There was no real answer to that one. Perhaps it was a side eventuality, a possibility that actually did exist even more deeply down inside her subconscious level that she was hoping we would in fact end up in her bed together, and that I hadn't actually turned and walked away.

She started to protest, even as I lay her softly down on the bed, but I kissed her, effectively shutting off her protests, fears, and confusion. A new script was being written here now, and I knew next what it was I was to do, and enjoyed the new version of this screenplay much better. Reaching up, I pulled one of the thin straps from off her shoulder, pulling it down far enough to expose one of her beautifully well-rounded breasts. I lay beside her now, my tongue gingerly flicking her hard erect nipple, my free hand, caressing and toying with her other through the material of her gown.

"I....I....I don't understand..........."

"Shhhhhhhh" I whispered erotically into her ear, "Don't question it....just enjoy it, enjoy the feel of my hand upon your breast, the feel of my lips as I kiss and suck your sweet breast. You know you want me to, have always wanted me to, and now that I am, just let yourself feel it, enjoy it."

I felt her melt beneath me then, giving into her self as much as having given her self over to me.

"It just seems so strange." She tried to begin again. "I know I've always wanted this, needed this in fact, but can't quite believe its actually happening. I just never thought......"

Once again I cut her off before she could continue that line of thought any further. She was after all, still very much in control of this dream, and could at any moment, terminate it completely. And I still wasn't sure of what might happen to me if she did that. All I could do was try and guide it, manipulate it, and maintain her desire and interest towards letting it continue. Failing that, and I had no idea what might actually happen afterwards.

Kissing her deeply once again, I now slipped a hand up, bunching her gown up and around her midsection, exposing her pussy, and the soft tuft of hair that awaited me there. I ran my fingers through it, teasing her and petting her without going any further. Only when the soft breathless urgings of her moans and the next anticipated, now desperately wanted actions enter my mind did I go forward.

Only when the thought finally came of my cock easing into her, when she was already experiencing the delicious sensations of how it would feel as I did, long before I actually began to do so, did I press on. I placed her hand about my cock then so she could feel it, would guide it then of her own accord to the very wet opening of her cunt. She had already felt it slip inside herself, knew how it would feel, so now I let her do it, experience it and give her that which she had been yearning for so long all these years. My cock slid inside, filling her, and she gasped. I knew to hold it there, unmoving, and I did. I let her take the measure of it, feel it as I had become apart of her for the first time, even perhaps if it would only be this way, and only now, never really. But as she briefly considered that thought, began to contemplate and worry about it, I began to fuck into her.

All pretense of worry, fear, and concern fled away then. Only the sweet exquisite sensation of our coupling filled her mind, bringing her joy and pleasure beyond measure. She was now with Andrew, and though for her this would be the only way she would or could ever be with him, it was at least far more than what she would have otherwise allowed.

Barbara climaxed soon afterwards, her pussy exploding in such sweet sensations as to begin the process of actual awakening. I took that moment to join her, and as my own orgasm met hers, drenching her in an even deeper emotional display of rapture, I spoke softly to her mind, coaxing her with the promise of thoughts to hers.

"Anytime you want me...need me, I will be here for you." I said.

As though dreaming within the dream now, she answered, almost sleepily, which was a sure sign she was on the verge of waking.

"Like the Sandman in my dreams?" She questioned, asking.

"Yes...like that." I whispered softly back to her. "Like The Sandman, whenever you need me, want me, I will be here for you. Just call me, and I will come."

I began to fade away then, and knew I must leave now. I saw the shimmering of the door, which awaited me back into the void, but I whispered to her one more time, and watched the smile spreading across her face.

"Just remember.......I am, and will always be, The Sandman"

And so it was that I officially became, The Sandman, Dream-Walker. And I returned to Barbara, frequently afterwards, for it was easy to hear her voice when she called out to me in her sleep, in her dreams. And I would join her there, and be all that she needed and wanted me to be, and more.

And eventually as I prowled at night amongst the dreams, watched for the erotic shades of pleasure to beckon me, I soon after found and met Ginger.

I had been prowling amidst the world of dreams, and had slipped into one of Ginger's. Though her dream bubble wasn't glowing, with the colors of sexual excitement that I generally looked around for, I had been known from time to time to drop in occasionally on people's dreams to see what it was they were thinking about.

Ginger was an attractive woman, a housewife with a loving husband and a son. She was happy, content, and seemed to be enjoying whatever pleasures she had both in the real world as well as in the world of dreams. I was in fact about ready to turn and disappear when the image of a man shimmered into her dream, she reacted towards him with more than a little fear and fright, and I found this both fascinating as well as interesting. Why on earth would anyone with such an easygoing pleasant nature suddenly dream about something that was bordering on the sinister? As she turned as though to run into the next room, I immediately took on the form of this man who was chasing her. I prepared myself to act in whatever way she was envisioning until I at least had a clearer picture of the what and the why behind it all. But what immediately came to mind was unexpected and erotically thrilling.

The man was not a stranger at all. It was someone Ginger knew, and knew well. She had lusted secretly after him for a very long time, something she kept not only to herself, but had never shared with anyone, not even a close neighbor or girlfriend. The man was, a good friend of theirs as well, and as I quickly surmised, would never in a million years do the kind of thing, or act in the way that Ginger was purposely fantasizing about having him do now.

"Greg! I told you to stay away from me!" She screamed at him. Now screaming at me.

"You slut!" He...now I yelled back at her. "Constantly flirting, constantly teasing me. Now your telling me that you really don't want to have anything to do with me?"

In an instant I had the visual images of countless times when Ginger and her husband had invited over Greg and his wife. Of so many sexual innuendoes that had passed back and

forth between them. Oh, there was no denying she loved her husband, very much in fact, but Ginger was also attracted to Greg, and had struggled with that attraction with deep guilt felt feelings. So much so, that the only way she had been able to come to cope with her fantasies of him, was by turning them into being forced to do things with him against her will. This was simply one more little scenario that she had played out several times within her own mind. It would end as it always had ended for her previously, ravished, pleasured, tormented in away, all against her will. But left wanton, panting, and desiring more from him long afterwards, even in her dreams.

Once again I knew the path this particular little play was to run. I knew my lines by heart, what I was expected to do and say. In this situation I would chase her down the hall, she would reach, or nearly reach the door to their den. But here, I would finally catch her, pinning her to the wall and rip away her blouse as she struggled with renewed efforts to flee. Tackling her, we would roll around on the floor together and I would finally force up her skirt, ripping away her panties and bury my cock inside her fucking her into submission. Only then would she relent, allowing me to do this to her, succumbing to it because it was the only thing she could do, taking secret pleasure in it as she really had wanted it, but could not allow it to have happened any other way.

I didn't chase her though. I watched her run down the hallway, she made the door, turning around fully expecting me to block her from closing and locking the door. That's what was supposed to happen. Ginger stood there looking at me, a wild-eyed, very confused expression on her face. She did close the door then. I even heard the metallic click of the door as she engaged the lock. Silence then, followed moments later by a very confused still frightened call of my new name.

"Greg? Greg? Are you still there?"

I didn't answer. I simply stood there silently, watching and waiting for her to reappear. Somehow I knew she would, this wasn't supposed to be the way it happened, because it had always been this way, each and every time Greg had chased her down the hall, fought with her, and fucked her on the floor of the den. Until now.

Once again the sound of the door clicking, but this time opening, not locking, and Ginger peered out from around the door, looking down the hallway. But I had moved away, I was lying on the couch, my clothing gone, I was fully nude, waiting for her.

I could hear her approaching, tentatively, pausing to stand in the entry way of the front room, half expecting me to leap out at her from some place of concealment. A minor deviation perhaps, but one in which she could easily accept perhaps before the expected and anticipated continuation of the near-rape was once again completed.

"Greg? Are you still here?" Her tone sounded more than confused, it also had an edge of disappointment to it as well. I listened to her footfalls, heard her approaching the front room where I continued to lay upon the couch waiting for her.

"I'm on the couch Ginger. Waiting for you."

Once again I heard her turn to run, but she stopped midway down the hall. I still wasn't chasing her, wasn't coming after her at all. I heard her returning afterwards, this time with determination, if not a little resolution as to find out just what exactly was really going on. I looked up, one hand behind my head, one hand softly stroking my cock up and down.

She peered over the top of the couch, still looking like she would spring and run like a rabbit if I made any move whatsoever towards her.

"You're.....you're........"

"Jacking off?" I finished for her.

Her face blushed crimson, but she neither turned to run away, nor attempt to avert her eyes either.

"Don't deny it Ginger. Ever since our camping trip together last year, when you got up in the middle of the night to take a pee, and stumbled across me jerking off, I was thinking about you then, and you knew it too. That skimpy little top you'd been wearing all day long, your tits half falling out of it? What did you expect? I was mad with lust for you, but couldn't say or do anything about that, and you knew it too. But still you teased, and flirted with me anyway. And so...you caught me masturbating. And have been wanting me ever since. But only with my forcing you to actually do it will admit it, and even then only afterwards to yourself, as long as all the blames on me."

I knew it all of course, in the fraction of an instant I had known and felt everything.

"How? How could you possibly know all that?" She asked. Fear rose above all else now, fear of discovery, fear that her secret was widely known, perhaps even by her husband.

"It doesn't matter." I answered simply.

"Perhaps you'd better go." She stated matter of factly.

"If that's what you really want." I said, sitting up and reaching for my pants.

"No....wait!" She stammered out, once again, confusion and uncertainty at the forefront of her exclamation.

"Take off your clothes Ginger." I said simply and succinctly, leaving no room for argument in the tone I had used. It was a moment of decision for her. And I knew that. Ginger would either force herself to awaken now, or she would go on with the dream, curious now as to how it would finally end. I hoped for the latter.

She came around to the front of the couch. Already the button's on her blouse undone, her skirt, that same skirt she now unzipped herself and allowed it to drop to the floor around her feet. She stepped out of the pile, and began to slide down her pink untorn panties as well.

"Now the blouse and the bra." I ordered. I was still in control here. Perhaps she still needed that, being told to do it was at least easing her conscious. She wasn't being forced to do anything, but she also knew this moment would somehow end if she didn't go along with it either, so in a way, she was still being forced against her will, and that thought won out. I sensed it, felt it, and knew I'd been given the leeway to write the new dialogue here.

Ginger was nude now. Still standing above me looking down. I continued stroking my cock, looking at her, watching her.

"Touch yourself." I told her.

"I can't!" She half moaned aloud.

Once again I rose up as though to leave. I projected the thought towards her that I would too. It seemed to work; at least that thought went against what it was that she really wanted away.

"Ok. Ok!" She managed to say. Her hand dipped between her legs, but hardly moved.

"You know what I mean, you know what I told you to do Ginger. You've seen me do it, now it's my turn to watch you do it. Now!"

Only then did her fingers truly begin to pleasure herself. I watched as she began to slide them easily, quite easily actually, inside her very wet slit. She even cupped one of her own breasts without being asked or directed to. I watched as she thumbed her fat stiff nipple. Watched as it hardened and puckered up the dark area of her areola.

"That's it. That looks good Ginger, keep playing with yourself for me. Tease yourself the way you've teased me, pleasure yourself to orgasm, or nearly, and tell me before you do though!"

She did as I'd asked her. She twirled her clitoris, actually bending slightly at the knee in order to gain better access to herself, resting one hand on the arm of the couch, she inserted first one, and then eventually two fingers, I watched her sliding them in and out of her pussy, stopping occasionally to softly thumb and stroke her clitoris in-between times.

"I'm gonna cum." She announced after a time.

"Stop then!" I commanded her.

"What? No....please." She begged me. She was so close to orgasm, close enough that even I could feel her teetering on the edge of it.

"Come here!" I demanded of her once again. And she opened her eyes, almost floating over to me, and if she'd realized it, she had.

"Suck it. Ginger. Kneel down by the couch and suck my cock!"

I proffered it up to her, and she took it in her hand, and then guided it into her mouth. I reached down between her legs, felt her wetness, and impaled her with my finger.

"Don't you dare cum!" I warned her, but continued to finger fuck her pussy as though I had every intention of making her cum regardless of what I had said.

She began sucking my cock with an urgency borne of need, and not my need, but hers.

Her lips sucked, her mouth suctioned and drew me inside her, she languished the feel of my prick inside her mouth, tickled and licked the head of my cock with her tongue, swirling it around and over it. The memory of my prick, now more firmly encompassed in her thoughts.

"You'd like to cum fucking it wouldn't you?" I asked.

"Oh god yes!" She breathed around my cock saying.

"Then come up here and sit on it then."

She moved without being asked to. I felt her slip her cunt over the top of my cock, it slid into her easily and so smoothly that even she didn't realize that it had until I was inside her, fully and deeply so.

Reaching up, I captured both breasts in my hands, thumbed and toyed with her nipples while she began a nice slow arithmetic rocking motion against me. I felt her cunt nearly reach the point where my cock might actually slip out, and then she would slam herself back down once again until our flesh slapped together, until she felt my prick filling her entirely and banging against the entrance to her womb. Over and over we fucked in this way, in this fashion until the juices were streaming down between her legs soaking us both.

"Oh Greg...fill me please with your cum, fill me until its pouring out of me as well!"

One thing about dreams I really liked too, was you could cum in them as much as you wanted to, as much as you could handle anyway. And the amount of juice, cream, spunk, squirt...whatever you wanted to call it was entirely up to the mood of the individual. She wanted to feel a river of cum filling her, and a river she got. The spurts I ejaculated were hard felt, they filled her completely and with such force that it triggered a series of multiple orgasms for her. She continued fucking me, but now the creamy white nectar was being forced from within the depths of her cunt. There was no longer any room for both it as well as my cock, so that with each continued lunge inside her even more cum was being forced to evacuate itself from her pussy. The frothy, swish-sloppy sounds that emanated from inside her cunt were heightening the sounds of her orgasm in ever widening expanse of her senses. I watched her eyelids fluttering then, and by experience knew she was on the edge of her bubble, knew that it was about to pop, and that in seconds from now she would no doubt awaken to a very wet sloppy cum-soaked pussy.

"Next time....." I whispered. Think of The Sandman, think of me, and whatever you want to do, or have done to you, and I will be here.......just call my name, I am......"

"The Sandman".......she finished. The last word spoken still vibrating off the tip of her tongue having spoken it as Ginger opened her eyes; alert now and aware that it was indeed morning. Her husband lying beside her still asleep, she reached down, her panties soaked, her cunt still quivering from the fresh orgasm she'd just experienced.

"Honey? You awake?" She asked her husband. And she reached over towards him then.

Shelly. Now that was (and is) an interesting experience. Again, though I had certainly learned much in my Dream-Walking, I had only really explored the tip of the proverbial ice-burg. I was drifting around in the void, having already popped in on a few erotic little dreams. One or two young men having their first true-wet dreams, it was always interesting to see what it was that inspired those. People would be surprised I suppose, a lot of misconceptions for some, certainly a lot of very naughty thoughts about people that young boys would never ever admit to having had impure thoughts about, that's for sure. But anyway, it was during this particular trip that I ventured into one of Shelly's dreams. And I was glad long afterwards that I had, as it gave me insight into areas that I would have never thought possible or ever really considered before.

I had by now been able to easily distinguish between the dreams of men or women. When men dreamt, especially erotic dreams, the color of their translucent little bubbles took on a sheen of deep rich, nearly blood red purple. When a woman had a particularly erotic dream, it was more of a dark violet color, each one having an obvious difference, with variations on the color in-between, entirely dependant of course as to the extent or the eroticism of the dream.