Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Dreamweaver on 21-06-2009, 13:01:29</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dreamweaver</strong> on <strong>21-06-2009, 13:01:29</strong>
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				The shadows hung thickly in his room after he clicked off the light, yet the short trip around his desk and to the bed was one he’d made countless times before.&nbsp; Aside from the few pieces of clutter strewn across the faded carpet, there was nothing that would pose him any risk.&nbsp; Despite that fact, he still walked carefully as he brushed his hand along the edge of his desk, listening to the quiet hum of the fan nestled into the back of his computer case. <br><br>He turned and sat down on the edge, blinking his eyes tightly as he pulled off his shirt and tossed it towards the corner.&nbsp; He couldn’t see the plastic bin that was hidden there in the shadows, but he knew where it was well enough to make the blind toss.&nbsp; One sock, then two followed before he rolled onto his back and stretched out onto the firm mattress, his head sinking into the pair of pillows just below the headboard.<br><br>He closed his eyes and exhaled, chest and stomach compressing as he forced his lungs free of air.&nbsp; Wait.&nbsp; Wait.&nbsp; A slow, inhale, lungs stretching, drawing the cool air of his bedroom deep into him.&nbsp; He held the breath as his lungs strained, stretched to bursting.<br><br>A muted ‘click’ came from the right side of his bed as the plastic minute panel on his electric clock snapped down, another sixty seconds passing inexorably as the lungful of air within his chest stretched, tingled, yearned to escape him.&nbsp; Wait.&nbsp; Wait.<br><br>On the edge of pain, he finally released the breath, slow and measured.&nbsp; The exhalation took nearly a minute by itself, and as the air escaped his lungs he willed relaxation through his limbs.&nbsp; Hips and shoulders, thighs, biceps – elbows and knees.&nbsp; Calves, forearms, feet and hands, toes, fingers.&nbsp; Every part of his body willed into relaxation as the tension of the day was exhaled out with that stretched lungful of air.<br><br>When the return breath began to fill his lungs, his mind was already halfway into the depths of sleep.&nbsp; Measured breaths, in through his nose and exhaled past his lips as the muted warmth of complete relaxation filtered through every muscle, every nerve and every joint in his body.<br><br><hr><br><div class="floatright">(http://www.cse.umich.edu/~jhalderm/pics/pu0001/m/full_moon.jpg)</div>The whisper of wind tickled his ears as his feet brushed against the soft grass, lush and green – so green as to seem almost unrealistic, bright and vibrant despite the color-bleaching white glow of the full moon high above his head.&nbsp; He reached down and brushed his fingertips along the blades as they swept back and forth in the gentle breeze, their touch soft yet abrasive – like tiny feline tongues tickling at his fingers.&nbsp; How could it be that something so simple as grass could be so profound?<br><br>He’d made it.<br><br>He continued his journey towards the rise of trees ahead, moving over the soft grass at a varied pace.&nbsp; One moment the trees appeared thousands of feet away, and in the next breath he was merely hundreds of&nbsp; feet from the treeline.&nbsp; It didn’t seem to register to him, the oddity – or matter, either.&nbsp; Either way, he swept on until the shadows of the trees enveloped him,&nbsp; drawing around him a muted veil of darkly subdued colors – browns, greens and blues, purplish glints cast through the moonlight as it filtered down amongst the thickly leaved branches above his head.<br><br>The stark white tunic he wore flowed loosely around his shoulders as he continued his journey into the copse of trees, buttoned from neck to belly, and fastened snugly at each cuff.&nbsp; Long shirttails extended down over his soft cotton breeches, the material of his trousers dyed a dark charcoal gray. About his waist was buckled a plain black leather belt with a gleaming silver buckle, inlaid with a waxing crescent moon in glimmering mother-of-pearl.<br><br>The clearing was replete with shadows sliced cleanly by stark white moonbeams, illuminating in its center a pool of shimmering black water.&nbsp; A thin layer of hazy mist shrouded the pool from its right side almost completely to its left, and the mist swirled with the cool breeze that tickled across his back.&nbsp; At the far left edge of the pool stood a huge boulder, its’ face split cleanly in two.&nbsp; From within this split cascaded a flow of icy cold spring water that trickled down the rock’s surface to combine with the steamy hot water of the pool, pushing back the misty haze as the temperatures swirled and changed.<br><br>At the center of the pool sat a wide, flat rock, its surface slightly convex as it plateaued upwards only an inch above the mist.&nbsp; It was there that he’d met her for the first time, and there where he hoped to see her again.&nbsp; His last meeting had been only the briefest of encounters, a flash of vision, yet it was enough to cement itself into his memory indelibly.<br><br><em>She had been seated upon the flat rock with her legs dangled into the pool, steamy spring water swirling around her feet and calves.&nbsp; &nbsp;Her arms extended out behind her, palms upon the rock supporting her as she leaned her head back, gazing up&nbsp; into the night sky with the dark masses of her ebony hair cascading over her shoulders and along her arms.&nbsp; The sleeveless gown that she wore was little more than mist itself, diaphanous silken material flowing down like water over the rising curves of her breasts and sweeping inward to caress against the smooth, flat planes of her stomach.&nbsp; &nbsp;It moved with the soft breeze with the same mystical quality as the movement of the mist, rippling over her pale flesh like shimmering ocean waves.</em><br><br>Only an instant, and she had vanished - it had all vanished.&nbsp; Torn out of the dream and thrust back into reality as his alarm clock had begun to wail, the incessantly annoying voice of a morning radio DJ hollering into his microphone about next week’s huge announcements of the upcoming summer concerts. <br><br>That was then.&nbsp; He’d spent nights, weeks, months afterwards trying to recreate the image in his dreams, to draw himself back to that particular slice of heavenly perfection that had only lasted the merest of heartbeats.&nbsp; It was here now, painted with a muted brush of imagination as he gazed across the clearing at the pool, the flowing spring, the mist, the rock...&nbsp; Almost complete, yet missing one crucial component.<br><br>Licking his upper lip gently, he moved towards the edge of the water, his nostrils flaring to draw in the olfactory nuances of the scene that complemented his visual and aural delights.&nbsp; Perhaps she would come – but if he were not so lucky, he would at least savor and cherish the unmatched beauty of the moonlit scene painted before him.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oreo</strong> on <strong>09-07-2009, 00:52:59</strong>
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				The day had been like any other day. The kind of day, that comes, passes, and slips away...lost amid mundane activities. The kind of day that filled her life's time. Nothing new, nothing unexpected, nothing to change the empty moments. A day full of plastic smiles, and cheap hello-how-are-yous. Always waiting for someone to see the pained soul that lived behind her eyes. They didn't want her, but more than that, she didn't want them. Everyone seemed to care more about things than each other. A day didn't pass at work without someone complaining about their relationship. Didn't anyone really care about the other person anymore? Were soul mates as far fetched as fairy tales? Two hearts so perfectly in tune you couldn't tell one heartbeat from the other? <br><br>Her thoughts pounded against her skull with each step up the three flights to her studio apartment. Slender pale fingers grasped the knob and inserted the key. The night had already begun long hours before she arrived home. The color of the room was midnight, touched only by the tiny glow of the nightlight. Her body fell against the door as she turned the dead bolt behind her. The dark of the room seemed to fit her mood. Her hand hovered, then pulled away from the switch leaving the lamp unlit. Dropping her purse at the door, she fumbled with the zipper of her skimpy waitress uniform. Kicking of her heels with a sigh of relief, she let the flouncy skirt fall atop them. Half way to the bathroom her peasant blouse followed. In nylons, bra, and ruffled panties she bent to fill the tub. <br><br>After lighting the two wall sconces, Shasta pulled the pins from her bun letting her long almost black hair flow free. Staring at the reflection flickering in the dim light of the mirror, her fingers traced along her cheekbones. Two years now with no bruises, but the inner wounds were harder to heal. The loneliness almost unbearable, what was the point of continuing? Unclasping the front of her bra, her breasts fell free, their weight dropping them just a pinch lower. Shoulders flexing back to let the wisp of fabric slither to the floor before her thumbs slipped inside her pantyhose easing them down her shapely legs. Shasta's gaze returned to her reflection. <em>What was wrong with her? Why was she so unlovable?</em> She had asked the question a thousand times, with no answer. There was nothing wrong with her body, she thought. Her hands lightly drifting across her breasts, down her flat tummy to her bare mons. Would she ever know a tender lover's touch? Or were such things fantasies? Was there only violence, pain, the ever present sense of separation from the world? Perhaps it was her hollow eyes that kept men away. Their green depths glazed over with a layer of tears that no longer fell.<br><br>The tub water was running through the overflow before she turned it off. Tossing a gardenia oil bead into the hot water, she inhaled deeply of the scent, but it did nothing to ease the depression riding her tonight. Her foot reddened slightly as she stepped into the bath; slowly sinking into the water with a sigh. Without thought she lay there quiet for the longest time, then slipped silently beneath the glassy surface. Her breath held, her eyes glued to the haunting spot on the ceiling. Paint had refused to cover the stain, vaguely heart-shaped, it mocked her. Staring, she listened to her heart pounding in her ears, ticking as the seconds between life and death slipped away. Still her breath held. It would be so easy to just let it bubble out to the surface, inhale the scented liquid deep into her lungs and go into a long sleep. Slowly she watched one bubble after another rise and pop as she contemplated her life. What was it worth? As the last sphere of air left, she tried to inhale, but her mouth drifted to breach the surface, drawing in another deep lung full of oxygen. <em>It's time for me to get some sleep.</em> Shasta wrested the thoughts away from her mind, and reached for a towel.<br><br>After pulling back the curtain she sat on the edge of her bed watching the neon lights flicker outside her window. The colors, as cold and artificial as people had become created a false brightness concealing the natural glow of moon and stars. Her eyes grew heavy as she combed away the tangles of her still damp tresses. Flinging back the covers, she eased her bare skin between the satin sheets. <em>Get some sleep Shasta. There will be time enough tomorrow for thinking. You can make it through another day.</em> Never the less, her thoughts whirled endlessly until sleep finally took her.<br><br><br><div class="floatleft">(http://i257.photobucket.com/albums/hh216/allybandy/dreamgirl.jpg)</div>She was back. The familiar feel of warm water swirling around her, seductively calling her to the surface. Shasta had been here many times. It was her place, the safe haven from life's hurts. Here is where she came to heal. When wounds of body and soul were too much. When she wanted to give in to the darkness that ate away her life. <br><em>She remembered now!</em> <br>Something had been different the last time she was here. A hundred times she had come here alone, basking in the glow of moon and stars. Someone had found her secret place. Reaching toward him from the rock, he had vanished. The ache of loss within her breast had awakened her. <br><em>Would he be here again? Could she find him? </em><br>The water flowed sensuously across her skin, swirling the gauzy wisp of fabric that covered her into a cloud around her limbs. Odd how she could breathe the water here. Its taste, the sweet nectar of flowers. <br><br>Her eyes scanned the rippled reflection of herself as if she floated amongst the stars, her heart racing as a shadow approached the pool. First all that showed was a white shirt, but as he stood still gazing at the rock, she recognized him as the same man as before. His dark hair and eyes seemed as lonely as her own. <br><br>Almost afraid to leave the water, anxiety that she might break the enchantment, she lay beneath the surface. Only her hand stretched up from the depths, mingling with the mist, hovering, swirling like a ghostly cloak. The cold night air, chill against her skin, but as he remained, she risked emerging from the pool. Strange how her robe and hair were instantly dry, while the water dripped from her flesh. She stood there staring, wondering if he was real at all.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dreamweaver</strong> on <strong>14-07-2009, 23:04:28</strong>
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				The soft night's breeze touched the pool, swirling the mist over its' glassy surface as Pierce reached the water's edge.&nbsp; He paused there, inhaling again and savoring the slightly musty scent of the forest - and marveling at the vivid reality of the dream he'd created.&nbsp; It was almost as if the place was more real than reality itself, every nuance and variation perfected to the most minute detail.&nbsp; The leaves of the trees, the swaying blades of grass, the dark gray pebbles that decorated the water's edge, even the deep crystalline blue-black of the steamy water that spread out before him was so intricately perfect that it left him literally stunned at the beauty of it all.<br><br>It appeared almost ghostlike as the hand slowly emerged from the water next to the flat stone, thin fingers outstretched as if to test the air as it continued to rise.&nbsp; A forearm followed, graceful and smooth as he stood transfixed by the slow emergence, watching as it slowly drew upward - elbow, bicep, then the rise of the mist as it bulged, then parted to reveal the crown of a head, a flowing mass of shimmering satiny dark hair, the pale expanse of smooth forehead, and the emergence of her eyes - meeting his from across the ten feet of water that separated them.<br><br>She was here.<br><br>His heart jumped into his throat, and he swallowed it down as he stood transfixed by her gaze.&nbsp; She continued to rise until her entire head and face was revealed, only stopping as the swirls of mist clung to the slopes of her shoulders just below the diaphanous gown-wrapped swell of ample bosom.&nbsp; His mind raced with emotion as she lowered her arm, sending soft ripples through the mist as she lowered it back into the water.<br><br>Oddly enough, her hair seemed perfectly dry as she gazed at him from the water, as did the pearlescent white gown - yet her skin glistened with moisture, rivulets of the pool's water trickling from her forehead, cascading down her smooth cheekbones and dripping from the tip of her narrow nose.&nbsp; He gazed deeply into her hazel eyes, so perfectly flecked with hints of gold, and felt a tingle of sensation cascade up his spine as he returned her stare.<br><br>Pierce opened his mouth to tell her how overjoyed, how relieved he was that she was here, yet no words issued forth.&nbsp; He puzzled for a moment, twisting his mind around the sensation of not being able to comprehend words, language, spoken dialect in this strange and serene place.&nbsp; It was something that he needed to puzzle through, but not right now - at this moment he needed only one thing.<br><br>He needed her in his arms, pulled into his embrace, cradled within his grasp.<br><br>Without further hesitation, Pierce stepped into the pool.&nbsp; His bare feet touched the steaming water, and his skin tingled with the languid heat that seemed to flow up past his ankles and through his calves, preceding the touch of the water upon his skin.&nbsp; It was almost ecstasy in and of itself, the touch of the hot liquid upon his body as he walked deeper into the pool, the water swirling up and around his knees, calves, hips.<br><br>Pierce stopped as he reached her, hungry to touch her yet hesitant at the end of his emboldened walk into the spring.&nbsp; Would she simply vanish again if he tried to place his hands upon her?&nbsp; Would his fingers find purchase at all, or would they simply pass through her like the passing of his hands through the thin blanket of steam that shrouded the crystalline pool?<br><br>He couldn't resist.&nbsp; The draw of her allure set his body afire with emotion - a hunger that only the touch of her skin under his fingers would quench, and then, only temporarily.&nbsp; Lifting his arm, he broke the surface of the water with his hand and reached his fingers up, towards the smooth alabaster skin of her perfect face.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oreo</strong> on <strong>24-08-2009, 10:33:02</strong>
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				The surreal feel of the entire scene was overwhelming her senses. Everything was different. Not just the fact that he was here, but her eyes took in the entire setting. What had once been a lonely pool of water with her small bit of stone in the midst of it, was surrounded by grass and trees. A breeze stirred the air, scented with lilac. There was life beyond the nothingness...Never before had there been anything but herself and the pool. <em>Had he brought the change?</em> <br><br>Though the water was filled with warmth, her arms still shivered, both from excitement and the gentle breeze that tickled across her flesh. Staring across the short distance that separated them, she wanted to move, but fear welled up that any such action might spoil...defuse the moment, and he would again evaporate into the mist. Shasta tried calling out to him, wanting to know if he were real. But some unseen hand clutched her throat, clinging tightly, and all the words that wanted to spill forth were snared. Neither a sound, nor a whisper issued from her. But her eyes...they pleaded with a silent longing. Shasta needed him, with the desperation of a starving soul, she beckoned him forward. <br><br>The instant his foot hit the water, the vibrations of it rippled through her frame. She could feel him, and his need was as great as her own. Hands clenched into the liquid, desperate to move toward him, but her feet would not budge. <br><br>Moonlight seemed to glow, iridescent, up from the water rather than down from the sky. As if the pool was the center of the universe and all things issued from its mysterious depths. The mist parted and vanished in the wake of his approach. Each ripple that washed against her belly pounded her emotions like the beating of a kettle drum. Her ears rang with absolute quiet, filled only with the rasp of her own breath, the pulse of her heart. <br><br>Why did it take an eternity for him to reach her? When in reality her eyes had blinked but twice before he stood before her. Her lips parted, but still the words would not come. <em>Who are you!</em> Then his hand was lifting toward her face, and she prayed a thousand times, in the instant before his gentle caress slid across her cheek, for the dream to never end. Stars swirled in the reflected surface like fireflies lighting up the night, but all she saw were the warm brown depths of his eyes. The moon fairly pulsed in the midnight sky, but it couldn't compare with the heat radiating from his fingertips.<br><br>Her breath feathered across his wrist as her cheek nuzzled into the palm of his hand. Her own raised up, from the confines of the pool, to trace a line of beaded water upon the alluring curve of his lips. The edges of her mouth creased up in delight when he didn't disappear. Though her breath increased to a nearly panicked state, her hand trembling, she stepped closer. They were nearly of the same height. Only a slight tilt of her head raised her mouth as she touched his to taste of the moisture still glistening there. <br><br>It seemed no ordinary kiss, but one filled of heaven, rapture, moonlight and magic. No words were spoken. Her body fell against his frame as if created for him alone by the maker of all things. For the moment, no words were needed. His touch told her all she needed to know.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dreamweaver</strong> on <strong>31-08-2009, 06:30:46</strong>
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				The touch of her wet fingertip along his bottom lip sent a shiver of pleasure through him, though he could sense from the trembling in her fingertips that she was easily as nervous as he was.&nbsp; Her hand dropped as she leaned in and raised her lips to his, breathing nervously as the distance closed, reduced slowly until their mouths brushed against one another.<br><br>Almost immediately she leaned into him with a press of near desperation, her breath coming in uneven gasps as his hand slipped from her cheek to curl around her smooth neck.&nbsp; The press of her body against him sent a wave of tingling pleasure through his body, the heat of the water combining with the overload of sensory input that coursed up his spine.<br><br>The material of her gown felt like cream underneath his fingertips as he slid his arm around her waist, holding her close to his chest.&nbsp; The last he saw was the radiant glow of the pool as his eyes slipped shut to absorb the overwhelming ecstasy of their first kiss, the image of the hazy mist flowing around them, eddying around their bodies as they clasped desperately together.<br><br>It seemed endless, eternal, an everlasting kiss that spanned the extent of Pierce's entire existence, yet when their lips parted and he inhaled deeply her deep floral scent it was almost as if the kiss had taken only the merest of breaths and left him wanting, needing so much more.&nbsp; He opened his mouth to speak, yet no words issued forth, and his ears continued to register only the soft sound of the water trickling into the pool from between the split rock at the far end.<br><br>He gasped as his eyes opened and he focused his sight upon her once more, seeing her held securely in his grasp, and completely naked.&nbsp; Her filmy gown had somehow vanished, and as he looked he noticed with a shock that he too was devoid of clothing.&nbsp; His stomach leaped up into his throat as he held her, and his cock throbbed, rising under the steamy water to brush against her belly.<br><br>He gazed into her eyes, and an image flashed through his mind - the image of her, yet somehow different, more real.&nbsp; It lasted only a moment before it vanished, replaced by the image of them, their embrace, their hunger - as if in his desire for her he could feel her desire for him.&nbsp; The thought touched him momentarily as to whether she could feel his desire as well, his need for her, the pounding of his heart that was almost painful within his constricted chest.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oreo</strong> on <strong>10-10-2009, 21:55:46</strong>
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				Desire rushed through her, unlike anything she had ever known. His touch coursed across her skin like a velvet fire, burning with passion, but softer than the breeze. A sob broke in her chest, caught in her throat and traveled no further. The bliss of his touch pulling her to him as the kiss deepened, cast away every past experience. The only pain touching her here was one of desperate longing. The thought of how he tasted flitted through the haze in her mind; warm, of salted honey.<em> One doesn't taste in dreams...</em> but she was too enthralled in him to question it further.<br><br>Every breath was slowed like the frozen picture of a hummingbirds wings. Each frame a new sensation, each stroke of her tongue playing against his, sensual, filling her soul. Her hands wandering from his face to his shoulders never questioned the lack of clothing. Even her own nakedness felt right. Does one question a dream? While this held all the quality of a dream, it's essence was far greater than anything she had ever known. His need was as clear as her own and seemed to twine through her thoughts. "Yes," she wanted to yell, "I feel the same. We belong to each other," but no sound issued from her parted lips. All that happened was her eyes opened, wandered across his naked chest then were captured by the deep beckoning of his own gaze.<br><br><em>Who are you? I know you!...I must have you.</em> But the thoughts beat only within herself. A small gasp as the rise of his manhood brushed against her belly. Too far...he was too far away. In the weightless warmth of the water she moved closer. If words were not permitted she would tell him in the only way she could. Feather soft, her fingers splayed and slid up his chest to lock behind his neck. One silken calf brushed against his as it slid past his knee. Desperately slow, she savored the feel of his skin slipping past her own.<br><br>Her torso pressed forward, the tight buds of her breasts nearly playing upon his own, bounced gently against his chest in the rippled surface of the pond. Shasta's smooth mons pressed his erection; hotter than she imagined it would be. Her pearl throbbed against the intense pleasure of his shaft as her petals eased apart. Her entire frame began to tremble with expectation. Dare she lift her other leg, dare she hope for the feel of his shaft within her. Desire full blown, welled as a wanton need. Her flesh craved to be united with his, but even her moan was caught in her throat unable to escape and fall upon his ears.<br><br>Only the trickle of water, its lap against the shore and the delicate breeze made any sound at all.<br><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dreamweaver</strong> on <strong>15-10-2009, 00:14:03</strong>
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				The touch of her body to his was electric in its stimulation, his skin afire with the gentle touch of them against each other.&nbsp; His mouth worked in an attempt to speak again, yet there was nothing - and he saw the frustration echoed back in her own eyes&nbsp; as she tried desperately to communicate back.&nbsp; Something about this dream, in all of its' vivid splendor, was prohibiting them from communicating with each other.&nbsp; Verbally, at least.<br><br>He shuddered with sensation as the inside of her thigh glided up his leg and along his hip, her calf brushing past his knee and slipping smoothly over the muscular curves of his own thigh.&nbsp; The feeling was unlike anything he'd ever experienced - he had been with many women before, but the sheer simple erotic energy that coursed through the touch left his head spinning.&nbsp; His hand slid down her side and up the curve of her hip, fingertips caressing down along the curve of her thigh as she pressed it against him.&nbsp; His mind raced with the idea that he was progressing too fast, being too bold - yet he could feel, sense, understand her own need - and it was as great as his own.&nbsp; Equal and opposite, in a sense, drawing on each others' desire as they pressed closer together.<br><br>His fingers reached down as his hand brushed along her hip and thigh, middle finger stretching forward to brush over the silky soft flesh of her labia.&nbsp; He slid his touch backward along her blood-swelled flesh even as the crown of his cock pulsed against her throbbing pearl, and with a slight touch of pressure he pulled her nether-lips apart.&nbsp; Fully engulfed in his desire was he, overcome by his need for this woman that he held tightly in his grasp.&nbsp; He didn't know who she was, or why it meant so much, yet there was nothing in heaven or on earth that he wanted more than her.<br><br>He didn't even know her name.<br><br>His hand clenched on her ass-cheek gently, lifting her as he pulled her close, the intimate touch of her nipples on his chest and her swollen lips upon his crown urging him on.&nbsp; His free hand followed the first, sliding down to caress over the curve of her ass and pull her close, drawing her off of her feet and into his arms.&nbsp; He had both of her ass-cheeks in his hands, and pulled her toward him as her thighs brushed around his hips.&nbsp; Pierce rocked his hips back as he pressed her torso to his, and then with a gaze of pure and unbridled hunger, he buried his cock inside her pussy.<br><br>The sensation eclipsed all other sensory input he'd ever had in his life.&nbsp; The feel of her pussy clenching down on his cock exploded like fireworks within his head, the thud of mortars as the shells were tossed high into the night with a flash and hiss of gunpowder, followed shortly behind by the brilliant colors as sparks exploded in all directions.&nbsp; <br><br>Pierce held her there, clutched in his grasp for a long moment as the overwhelming ecstasy rolled over him, not daring to move for fear that any more intense pleasure would surely push him over the edge and into the madness of a paralyzingly strong orgasm.&nbsp; Time seemed to stop right there as he stared into her eyes, shaking with the sensations that coursed like fire and electricity through his every nerve.&nbsp; His cock pulsed inside her, buried to the depths of her cunt and pressed hard up against her cervix as her legs clenched around his hips.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oreo</strong> on <strong>30-11-2009, 02:14:24</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				((Post 2,000))<br><br>Every touch of his hand thrilled across her skin in waves of fire. Every nerve sang a song of desire. Every nuance of the dream was more real than any encounter she had ever experienced. Only her lack of voice was held in check. As desperately as she wanted to call out to him, beg his name, feel the warmth of his voice wash over her, he struggled in the clutches of the same surreal silence. Shasta felt her own movements shudder through his frame. The tense muscular feel of him pressed against her own satiny softness had her clamoring for more. <br><br>The spread of his fingers echoed the ecstasy that coursed through her own flesh. Infinity lodged in the time it took his hand to traverse the side of her hip, tickle across her silken, engorged petals to the deep ache residing between her thighs. Her slick flow of nectar was unmistakable even in the swirl and ebb of the water. His grasp tightened possessively, but not in a manner that instilled any hint of fear, or pain to come. More a deep cherishing, embrace, one that didn't want to let a treasure escape his grasp. Her own thoughts began to panic, her grasp to tighten. What if he disappeared again? She had to know...she had to complete the joining. The scent of him wafted strong on the breeze. Spicy, exotic, full of musk. Her mind swirled with the heady aroma.<br><br>His hands were pulling her close, clenching into the soft flesh of her cheeks. Her sensitive pearl sliding rapturously against his fever hot shaft as her foot left the pebbled bottom of the pond. His crown finding purchase against her entry with a desire beyond her comprehension. Her mind screamed please, even as her vagina throbbed in anticipation. Her eyes locked onto his, knew the instant he could no longer deny either of them the fulfillment they craved. Her mouth opened to cry out in bliss as he puled her onto the thick pulse of his erection.<br><br>Thighs trembling beneath his fingers, she dared not move. The sensation so overwhelming...perfection in a moment..captured in a breath, a heartbeat, the fluttering of her pulse. It was too intense. As she struck his base, her body exploded in orgasm. Powerfully blinding pulses swept through her, flashed before her eyes as she awoke. Her hand pressed sensuously against her pearl as the spasms shook her hard. Her hips rising from the bed as her voice finally broke the rhythm of the morning, "NOoooooo!" <br><br>His spicy musk filled her nostrils for a moment then disappeared, leaving nothing but slick nectar between her thighs. Lungs heaving as the pound of blood rushed in her ears, the dream was no more...his face vanished with the waking.<br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dreamweaver</strong> on <strong>02-01-2010, 15:44:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				With a shuddering groan, Pierce convulsed upon his mattress.&nbsp; His legs tightened, muscles clenching as his climax hammered through him with enough force to roll his eyeballs back under twitching eyelids.&nbsp; His hips bucked off of the bed as cum flooded into his boxers, pulses of ecstasy drawing groans from his throat as he trembled with the intensity of his orgasm.<br><br>“Nnnghfuck!!” he groaned, clenching his fists into the twisted sheets as his mind reeled over the dream-images and the sensations racing through his body like a powerful drug.&nbsp; His skin tingled madly at the sensations, so unlike anything he’d ever felt before.<br><br>As his climax slowly dwindled, Pierce collapsed back onto his bed.&nbsp; The intensity of it was unlike anything he’d felt in years, even when he was with a woman – and here he was, blowing a load in his fucking boxers after a goddamn dream.&nbsp; Lifting his hand, he brushed it over his sweatsoaked face and combed his hair back with his fingers.&nbsp; His pulse was still racing, and his skin felt like it was on fire.&nbsp; He blinked his eyes a few times, adjusting his vision to the early-morning shadows of his room, and glanced over at the clock.<br><br>5:19 A.M.&nbsp; – eleven minutes before he even needed to be up.&nbsp; Good thing he was awake, of course.&nbsp; Now he had extra need for a shower.<br><br>Rocking forward, he sat up and swung his legs out of bed while he held the sheet and blanket up from his cum-stained boxers and belly.&nbsp; His cock was still pulsing and rock hard, and his mind was still reeling with the images of the woman from the pool.&nbsp; He stumbled to his feet and made his way to the bathroom, awkwardly pulling the boxers down and tossing them into the pile of dirty clothes just inside the bathroom door.<br><br>The visions of her seemed imbedded in his mind, and as he leaned down to adjust the temperature of the shower water, his thoughts dwelled longingly on her.&nbsp; The dream had been so vivid, so intense – so unlike any dream he’d ever had…&nbsp; He wondered as he numbly began his daily routine if the dream was at all related to the book on lucid dreaming he’d recently purchased.&nbsp; It fit all of the categorizations that he’d read about lucid dreams, and on deeper analysis he began to wonder if it meant anything.&nbsp; Of everything, he knew one thing for certain – the dream still had him as hard as a rock, and aching to cum again.<br><br>Thirty minutes later, he was well on his way from his apartment to the advertising firm he’d worked at for just over a year now.&nbsp; It was a couple miles of walk through downtown Coos Bay, but he enjoyed the exercise and the solitude it gave him on the way.&nbsp; On this particular morning, there was only one thing on his mind – the girl from his dream – and her image filtered through his thoughts almost without end as he made his way to work.&nbsp; So engrossed was he in his daydreaming that he was nearly clipped by a car when he wandered across a street against the light.&nbsp; Other people walked up and down the streets as well, though in a town of barely fifteen thousand people the streets were never what you’d describe as being crowded.&nbsp; Pierce saw none of them, however.&nbsp; He was on autopilot, walking numbly towards his firm while his mind refused to release the vision.<br><br>The day at work was much like his walk, Pierce’s mind lost in a clouded haze of twilight images, her face and body – the scent of her hair, the touch of her fingers, and the caress of her hands…&nbsp; Three times he found himself drawing images of her when he was supposed to be working, and three times he had to stop and re-focus his thoughts on the job rather than the dream that still left his spine tingling with each memory.&nbsp; By the time his shift was over, he was frazzled beyond description and just twitching with the desire to finally be home and away from anything that required any of his scattered attention.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oreo</strong> on <strong>09-02-2010, 12:03:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i257.photobucket.com/albums/hh216/allybandy/neon-reflection-mobley-174977-ga.jpg)</div>Rolling into a ball against the intensity of the orgasm throbbing in her loins, the bare break of morn filtered across her quilt. The flash of neon drowned out by the predawn glow. Tired eyes opened and focused long enough to glance at the blinking red pulse of the clock. Five-nineteen," she groaned and slipped her head beneath the pillow. Four hours wasn't nearly enough sleep. She'd be ready for a nap long before she ever got to work this afternoon. Though Shasta was feeling too awake to sleep after the vivid dream she closed her eyes and willed herself back into the void of slumber.<br><br>The soft drip of the leaky faucet in the bathroom lulled her back to a drone. There, half way between waking and sleep she tried to reconstruct his face, but it remained elusive. Eventually falling back into a vacant state, she had no recollection of when sleep overtook her the second time, but it was nearly noon when she woke. A faint smile drifted across her face as she recalled having dreamed earlier, "Too bad dreams don't come true Shasta. Ahhhh, it was too perfect anyway. You've met enough men to know there are none like that one." Her dark hair billowed loosely around her pillow as she started up at the ceiling, eyes finally drifting to the window. "Snow? Today of all days?"<br><br>As much as she liked the winter, there was much to get done this afternoon and snow would surely slow her down. Thirty minutes later saw her folding her uniform and stuffing it in her gym bag. She could shower and change after her workout, she sighed...after her trip to the phone company. Sometimes it felt like she would never get out from under Mark's debts. Between the phone and the credit card she was barely making ends meet. Pulling her thick hooded coat tight around her face, she headed out the door and down the stairs. There was already two inches of white covering the sidewalk, but she needed to get downtown. That meant a five block walk to the bus stop and a half hour to get across town. With luck she'd be there by two, and at the gym by three...<br><br>...From the Fitness center Shasta made her way up fourth street to work. She had been tempted to wait for the bus, but it would be warmer to keep walking than to stand idly by. Smiling from half a block away, she breathed deep of the smells coming from the Pacific Grill and Smokehouse. Her one decent perk was a free meal before work, what ever was left over from the lunch special. About to cross the street she was brought up short, stopping dead in her tracks. That smell. Her eyes closed for a moment. "Don't be silly, girl. It was just a dream." But, for that moment his face was as clear and vivid as at the pond. Then, in a brief gust of frigid air, the spicy scent was gone, and she stepped away from Hinkley Advertising to cross the snow slushed street.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dreamweaver</strong> on <strong>20-02-2010, 14:39:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The chime that sounded from his computer at 4pm almost came as a surprise, albeit a pleasant one.&nbsp; His shift was over, and he could finally get home.&nbsp; Luckily he had a few things in the kitchen at home, so he wouldn’t have to spend any more mental energy on figuring out what he was going to have for dinner.<br><br>Pierce glanced up from his computer and scanned the floor of the firm, almost deserted this afternoon with the exception of a few diehards and the two women on the evening cleaning crew.&nbsp; The emptiness of the building tickled his mind, but it was simply a passing thought that had little meaning to him at that point.&nbsp; He was already far too distracted to add anything else to his mental workload.<br><br>With a few keystrokes and a click of his mouse, he set his computer into a shutdown sequence and stood in front of his desk.&nbsp; Reflex brought his arms up, and he yawned as he fisted his hands and stretched them out to the sides.&nbsp; His stomach rumbled in reply, reminding him that he had worked straight through lunch and only taken a single break during his shift.<br><br>The thought of food redoubled his concentration, and he clenched his teeth with a flexed jaw as he gathered up his jacket and headed for the front door.&nbsp; Still lost in his daze, Pierce pushed the door open and stepped outside the building.<br><br>It took him a moment to process what he was seeing, with the sidewalk and flowerbeds coated with a frosty blanket of white.&nbsp; Heavy white flakes continued to fall from the uniformly steel gray sky, settling atop his arms and shoulders as he glanced left and right along the street.<br><br>“Fuck me,” he muttered, frowning.&nbsp; “Nobody said anything about it snowing.”<br><br>Pierce arched an eyebrow and glanced back at the firm’s front doors.&nbsp; Maybe that’s why the floor had been so deserted when he packed up to go home – but why had no one said anything to him?&nbsp; Then again, with the state of his distraction, someone sure as fuck could have said something and he would have stood there like a clubbed seal wondering what the hell they were talking about.&nbsp; No matter though, it wasn’t anything he was unfamiliar with.&nbsp; Weather on the coast of Oregon changed rapidly, and you never could expect anything to stay the same from minute to minute.<br><br>With a shrug, he hitched up the hood on his tri-shade blue parka and zipped the zipper to just underneath his chin.&nbsp; It was a brand new gore-tex parka from REI, one that had cost him nearly $200 – he hadn’t had the opportunity to see how well it held off the water, until now.<br><br>There were even fewer people on the sidewalks now than there were when he’d come to work, and the streets were nearly deserted of cars.&nbsp; The snow on the roadways had been turned to a slushy off-white, and was crisscrossed with tire tracks and footprints.&nbsp; His shoes were equally suited for the weather, luckily – another purchase from REI, waterproof Timberland hiking boots that were lighter and more comfortable than his running shoes.&nbsp; Maybe this summer he’d actually get his ass up into the hills and do some hiking.&nbsp; Maybe.&nbsp; <br><br>The thought made him smile, and for a moment he simply enjoyed the beauty of the town covered in its winter-white blanket.&nbsp; It had been a good day, and moreso for his peculiar dream.<br><br>Turning south, Pierce began to walk back toward his apartment, carefully placing his booted feet down into the heavy snow.&nbsp; It had been quite cold earlier, but not enough to freeze.&nbsp; He didn’t expect to find any icy spots below the snow, but you never really knew what you’d find when you were walking on inches of snowfall.<br><br>He was no more than fifty feet away from work when a gust of wind brought him up short, and he almost stumbled.&nbsp; A scent, something vague upon the cool breeze brought the image of his dream back into his mind with a vengeance, and he looked up and glanced around in astonishment with the intensity of the recollection.&nbsp; It was so intense that a shiver of sensation coursed down his spine, and he was forced to hug his arms in his hands for a brief moment until his mind cleared.<br><br><div class="floatright">(http://www.avoision.com/portnoy/images/2007/december/nightSnow_1.jpg)</div>“Fucking bizarre,” he whispered as the sensation slowly passed, yet even after it was gone he waited for nearly a minute before resuming his journey south the few blocks to where his apartment building stood.&nbsp; His cautious steps were gone now, and he simply forged ahead until he was at last standing in front of his front door.&nbsp; <br><br>He took a moment to shake the dusting of snow off of his jacket, then slipped the key into the lock and opened his door.&nbsp; His apartment was dark and cool, the way he normally left it, and the familiar scent of home soothed his nose as he stepped inside and closed the door.&nbsp; His domain, the one place where he could safely exist without concern.<br><br>Idly he pondered as he pulled off his parka and hung it on the hook behind the door.&nbsp; Would the pond be in his dream again tonight?&nbsp; He had been visiting the spot for so long in his dreams it was almost like a home away from home.&nbsp; What he really wondered was if he would be alone when he got there, or if she would be joining him once more.<br><br>Only time would tell.<br><br>With a deep inhalation of breath and a slow, measured exhalation Pierce headed into the kitchen to make himself some dinner before an evening of television and sleep.&nbsp; He paused by his kitchen window and gazed outside at the serene image of the snow-covered tree that grew there, its branches illuminated by a bright halogen streetlight.&nbsp; The peaceful image sent a tingle over his skin, and he smiled despite himself.&nbsp; It had been a good day, odd dreams and all.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oreo</strong> on <strong>18-03-2010, 09:05:27</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Shasta's feet were beginning to ache with the cold. The walk had kept the rest of her warm and invigorated, but it seemed the snow always found a way to chill her feet. It didn't help stepping into the frigid puddle on the far side of the street. Nor was she at all pleased with the driver that sprayed her with a layer of slush. Stomping onto the curb in an effort to shake loose some of the ice from her clothing, she couldn't say why <em>he</em> caught her eye. There was something about his profile that made her look continue, even as he pulled the parka over his head and cinched it tight beneath his chin. Drawing her gaze back to the diner as he walked away, she couldn't shake the feeling she knew him from somewhere. <br><br>Without further thought her hand reached for the red door to the bar and grill. Grateful for the rush of warm air, that greeted her, she patted her arms several times to ward off the chills as her body adjusted to the temperature. The place was all but empty, but give it another hour and she would be racing to keep up with the orders, snow or no. Odd how bad weather seemed to bring out more people than a pleasant day. The clank of silverware, the hiss of the grill, were barely noticed sounds that had become part of the background after years of listening. The boss was at it again, putting the moves on Julia. He was such a cad, but she needed the job. They both did, though she knew Julia had given in, it hadn't made things any easier on her.<br><div class="floatleft">(http://i257.photobucket.com/albums/hh216/allybandy/san-jose-bar-grill-pic2.jpg)</div><br>"Hank, Julia, how's the day been? Any reservations I need to know about?" Shasta eased out of her coat, staring through Hank and his lecherous eyes.<br><br>"Yeah, it's been real crowded, can't ya see?" His head tilted to the empty bar. Why did he always have to be such a wise ass? <br><br>Shasta just smiled, and with a quirk to her lips, "They'll be here. It never fails. Good food and beer to warm the belly. Besides the snow stopped, it reckon it will be a busy night."<br><br>"There is the Hanover party, of twenty, due in at eight. There's been no cancellation. At least there will be that much. Get your dinner, there's leftover scampi. Cooks making up a fresh batch." She did her best to sneak past him, but his arm snaked out latching onto her waist and pulling her close, "What? No thank you, Shasta?"<br><br>Gods, she hated his cloying after shave. The man had no class, heavy handed too, like Mark. Every time he touched her, she wanted to punch him in the gut, but jobs were too hard to come by. Especially ones where tips were as good as the average crowd here, and he knew it. "Thanks Hank." In an undertone, "<em>Let me go</em>."<br><br>"Come on, Shasta. You know you like it. How come you always put on the show." His bulge ground against her hip.<br><br>Pushing away, "You know, you're really full of yourself, Hank. Now let me go, or I won't be ready when the dinner crowd arrives." If there was one thing that Hank liked more than his 'girls' it was profit.<br>&nbsp;<br>His hand slapped against her ass, "Go on, eat. I'll talk to you later."<br><br>Without hesitation she headed around back toward the cooks station. "Hey Joey." Her smile was finally genuine. The older beefy man was the only reason she felt safe here. He may not be the handsomest guy on the block, but at least he had a heart. "Hank said there's some scampi left?" <br><div class="floatright">(http://i257.photobucket.com/albums/hh216/allybandy/snowcoosbay.jpg)</div><br>His broad smile greeted her along with a twinkle in his eye and a lift of his heavy black brow. "I know it's your favorite. I saved you a platter. There on the warmer plate." <br><br>"You're the best Joey. If you're not careful, I'm going to steal you from that sweet wife of yours." Not a chance of that though. Shasta gave his arm a squeeze while reaching for the meal. She still believed there was a chance for true love because of those two. <br><br>The rest of the night played out like every other night, as busy as she had expected, complete with Hanks advances after work. It was clear Julia was leaving with him, why did he have to hassle her every damned night? It wasn't even worth the drive home. Better to walk. Tightening her hood, Shasta stuffed her purse into the gym bag and slipped her arms in like a day-pack. "1:30", if she hurried she could catch the last bus of the night. The street lights set off the snow in an almost surreal glow against the dirty back streets. The white fluff had frozen over, crunching beneath her almost dried shoes. Two blocks over and four up, she didn't have long to wait. Edging away from the drunk, she was relieved when the bus finally pulled up.<br><br>Another five block walk to get home and she was even more tired tonight than last. Shivering with cold, she never bothered to remove her uniform, simply crawled beneath her quilt and was asleep before she could recount the day.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dreamweaver</strong> on <strong>20-03-2010, 02:39:28</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The evening passed quickly and without incident - a quick dinner of store-bought baked macaroni, broccoli and a glass of beer; evening TV, an assortment of investigative cop dramas that all seemed to try and be the best at being exactly the same as all the others; the nightly news, reporting the daily misery that seemed to plague the land, all brought to you cheerfully by bedraggled reporters who seemed to look even worse now that everything had begun to transfer to Hi-Def; a cursory check of e-mail, scanning through the various bits of junk and spam to pick out anything that might actually be of interest.<br><br>By the time 11:30 arrived, Pierce’s mind was a tight ball of tension concentrating on only one thing – would the dream be there again tonight?&nbsp; He had managed to make it a number of times over the last few weeks, and he felt confident he could reach the grove again on this night.&nbsp; What really tugged at his consciousness was the thought of the girl.&nbsp; Would <em>she </em>be there?&nbsp; <br><br>It really didn’t matter, considering he had to sleep regardless.&nbsp; He’d not felt particularly rested after waking up that morning amidst a powerful orgasm, but admittedly it probably had little to do with the sleep and much to do with the energy he had expended directly upon waking.<br><br>Considering he wouldn’t have changed a thing if he could – except perhaps to stay in the dream a bit longer – it really didn’t matter one way or the other.&nbsp; It was time to set off on his nightly journey once again.<br><br><hr><br>The room was its’ familiar black as he clicked off the light, slid himself underneath the covers and began his meditative relaxation techniques, the ones that had originally led him to the dream.&nbsp; They took a few minutes longer than normal to affect his body on this particular night, and he mused that it must have been due to the extensive emotion that he had been weighing for the entire day.&nbsp; He was quite intensely anxious about seeing her again, and the thought that it might not happen weighed heavily upon him.<br><br>Despite it all, within minutes he was drifting through the veil, on his way toward a deep slumber.<br><br><hr><br>The lush green grass swayed against the nonexistent night breeze, and Pierce grinned with elation as he fell to his knees underneath the perpetually full moon.&nbsp; Leaning forward, he swept his fingertips through the long blades of bright green grass, savoring the sensation of contact that flowed through him.&nbsp; He was back, into his world within a world – and now he hoped that she would make it as well.<br><br>He stood once again, and raised his eyes to the pale white disc of the moon.&nbsp; It always seemed to hang in the same place, sixty degrees up and just to the left a touch, as if approaching midnight – and it always seemed a bit larger than life.&nbsp; There was no way the moon could possibly look that large and close in reality, unless one were looking through some sort of magnification device.&nbsp; Nonetheless, his moon hung suspended at a perpetual 11:50pm, lighting his way as his soft leather boots swept through the grass and toward the trees that concealed his oasis.<br><br>She wasn’t here.&nbsp; Of that much he was sure before he ever entered the cover of the trees, for his nostrils were filled with the scents of the grasses and the forest and the water from the pool, yet the now familiar and entrancing scent of her was missing from the compound.&nbsp; Perhaps he was just early.<br><br>The pool was as he had left it the night before last, undisturbed, shrouded in the wispy steel-gray mist that hung just over the surface of the water.&nbsp; Without hesitation he strode into the water, and was immersed in the warm caress of the steamy liquid just as he was the night before, and as then his dream garments seemed to vanish without thought.&nbsp; In three long strides he drew himself through the pool to the flat stone in the center, and he stretched his arms out over it before laying his head down upon his biceps.<br><em><br>Please, bring her to me.</em><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oreo</strong> on <strong>19-04-2010, 20:37:38</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Visions of the night swirled in random disarray. Here and there with no logic or reason. A brief sound, a clink and stir, haunting melodies and flashes of dream filtered away the tiny stresses of the day. Restless, her head twisted on the pillow. Without quite waking, subconscious hands pulled the fluffy mass over her ears. Shivering, she delved further beneath the damp cocoon of clothing and blankets, satin sheets and the nightmare realm. <br><br>Shasta hated the house, but couldn't halt her feet from continuing toward the imposing entrance. Why did the threshold always seem too large? Trembling, she couldn't restrain her fingers from reaching to open the door. It was where she was supposed to be, wasn't it. This was the remnant of her life. As the wooden mass swung open, the cloying darkness nearly overwhelmed her. Mark was here...she sensed it and still couldn't stop herself from stepping inside. Funny, there was never any light, yet she knew every nook and cranny. The buzz and drone of long lost voices whispered in her head, somehow bypassing her ears. Accusations and reprisals, unwarranted, she already knew, yet they accused her anyway. <br><br>Where had the stairwell come from? They shouldn't be here, but she had to know...one creaking step after the next. Interesting pictures on the wall. A soft smile, at the photos reflecting back a happier youth. A chill as the darkness urged her upward. A malevolent spirit behind her, the house was not a safe place to be. Devils and demons lurked here, prodding. She could feel them, dank skeletal hands stroking out of the nether realm, grasping through the floor. Slithering like bony snakes against her skin.<br><br>Screams were not enough to stop them. They were stronger than her voice. Stairs morphed into the hall, her arms clutching for purchase, a means of escape. His voice shattered any will to run. She froze. "Where have you been, Shasta? You were supposed to be home hours ago? Cheating on me again?"<br><br>Spinning around as if eyes and ears deceived her, he couldn't be real. "Oh god, Mark. I thought you were dead."<br><br>"You didn't answer, Shasta? Why are you late?" His strong hand reached for her throat as the smile, that sick smile became all she could see. "What, can't answer, Shasta? Because you're a lying little whore?" Was there any purpose in retorting? Easier to let him believe what he wanted, believe his lie.<br><br>&nbsp;<div class="floatleft">(http://i257.photobucket.com/albums/hh216/allybandy/dreampondshasta.jpg)</div> Why was the water running? Mark's hand tightened at her throat, his gravelly voice a death sentence. "This is the last time." <br><br>Her feet were wet, knees faltering at the edge of the tub. Overflowing water coursed down the back of her legs as his hand inexorably pushed her down. Eyes locked in terror, Shasta didn't even thrash against him. There was no sense in fighting. His strength always won. It was easier to simply give in. Down under the water he pushed her, fingers tight, her nostrils flooded. From beneath the surface, she stared up into the fuzzed features of his twisted face. His hand, too strong, held her pinned against the porcelain. Without struggle she waited, watched as her breath trickled out in slow bubbles against the caricature of his face. Limp, the fear left as she breathed in the warm liquid in an oddly reversed scream. <br><br>Darkness shrouded her, filled her vision with an endless void. Heart pounding in her ears, she pondered in confusion. <em>How can I hear my heart if I'm dead? No bright light...no tunnel? Just the darkness and me?</em> "Not me! No, not me! Mark is dead, not me." <br><br>Life filled eyes flashed open, limbs flailing for the surface. The moon. Yes the moon above the warmth of the pond. Was <em>he</em> here? Never had she struggled so hard to reach the surface, but the nightmare hands still gripped at her limbs, groped at her calves and feet. She wanted <em>him</em>, needed <em>him</em>. The previous night flooded her mind. <em>The dream</em>. Beneath the surface she called, cried out in slow bubbles that broke achingly at the mirrored reflection of her soul. Sweet with the scent of gardenia... "Oh God, help. I can't break free."<br><br>Was he there? Could he hear her? Again she screamed as twisted hands sank shafts through her calves holding her beneath the gentle lap of water and mist.<br><br>(7,000)
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dreamweaver</strong> on <strong>03-05-2010, 18:57:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Pierce let his mind wander as he rested atop the small plateau, savoring the steamy caress over his body as his toes dipped in the temperate water.&nbsp; He closed his eyes and breathed deep, enjoying that fragrant bouquet of nature that seemed to pervade the place.&nbsp; It seemed odd that in a dream he would find solace in closing his eyes and reveling in a smell, but then the entire nature of this dream was equally as odd – in his life he had experienced snippets of dreams that he would consider lucid, though they were few and far between.&nbsp; In contrast, this dream seemed almost a reality in and of itself, and he simply didn’t want to expend too much thought on the nature of it for fear that his analysis would somehow cause it to blink out of existence.&nbsp; He simply reveled in the ponderous peace, and hoped silently that it would never end.<br><br><div class="floatright">(http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4020/4574855903_7b3bf1a3d3.jpg)</div><em>If only she were here with him, savoring the same peace he was.</em><br><br>The sound of bubbles touched his ears, a sound seeming oddly out of place and in counterpoint to the rhythmic trickle of water that cascaded from the stone some ten feet across the pond from him.&nbsp; There were other sounds as well, but they had always seemed secondary, tertiary to the simple elegance of trickling water flowing into a larger body.&nbsp; This, however, presented itself in stark comparison to the ease at which the running water meshed with all the other background sounds.&nbsp; The bubbles popped once, twice, then in a quiet torrent that seemed to carry with it an energy that chilled his spine.&nbsp; Pierce shuddered, and his muscles tensed in response, an odd reaction from a simple sound – yet it happened, nonetheless.<br><br>He inhaled deeply, and his nostrils twitched alertly as a floral scent made itself known – lingering, almost imperceptible, yet his mind knew that scent.&nbsp; It was the aura of the girl, her essence as she had held herself in his arms, trembling as they meshed into one for that brief, fleeting moment.<br><br>Immediately he sat up, his arms pushing down and his back arching as he lifted his head like a crane’s to survey the area.&nbsp; He quickly scanned in three hundred and sixty degrees, taking in every detail and nuance – yet, she was not there.&nbsp; A shiver of frustration coursed along him, and he frowned as he once again scanned, looking for the object of his utter desire.<br><br><em>Pop, pop, pop…</em><br><br>The bubbles..&nbsp; The image of a girl in a mirror, through a mirror as she waited for him to reach her – yet this time there was no serene vision of beauty in her gaze, this time she clawed madly at the surface of the water from underneath, as if there was an invisible barrier blocking her from the world above.&nbsp; Pierce shouted in alarm as he shot his arm out, yet the outburst once again made no sound whatsoever.&nbsp; His fist plunged through the surface and he grasped her forearm tightly, then hauled upward as he felt her own fingers close tightly around his arm.&nbsp; He would save her – from whatever it was that threatened her existence, yet he would do what he could to ensure…&nbsp; To ensure that she was his.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oreo</strong> on <strong>29-05-2010, 11:23:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The drag was too much, her lungs flooding with fire as she struggled toward the surface only to sink deeper into the murky depths. The clouded vision of his face loomed above, ebbing in and out of focus. He was here. All Shasta had to do was loose the grip on her feet. Thrusting her legs with all of her might brought no surcease. Relentlessly she slipped another inch further into the abyss. Terror filled her eyes as she realized this time she couldn't reach him. The previous nights dream, the beautiful caress of his frame, sturdy and protective against hers, flooded her mind as easily as the water seemed to be pumping in and out of her lungs. It was all too strange. Panicked flailing ceased as her hand stretched upward. If only she could touch him again.<br><br>Her body began to tingle. Not the pleasant sense of excitement, but the sharp prickles of a limb gone to sleep. His face faded into the night. One last failing scream escaped her lips, "No! I need you." Fingers lax, wilted, no longer taut, no longer straining, filled with a frigid chill that radiated from within; her heart consumed by icy tendrils as she drifted away.<br><br>A brilliant flash of lightning; fingers surged into the water, his hand had grasped her arm. Her body flooded with warmth, burning away the claws gripping her limbs. Upward she rose from the pool, his perfect face reflected in the moonlight as her visage broke the surface. Lungs filled with air ready to thank him, wanting to know who he was, but only silence passed the movement of her lips. <br><br>There was no communicating her joy in words, but other means were at her disposal. The terror fled her eyes as he pulled her from the pond. She felt light as a feather, the heaviness that had a grip on her was gone. The surroundings could have been pitch black for all see saw. There was nothing but the depth of his eyes, the strength of his arms as her trembling form was brought to bear against his own. Their chests heaved in unison from the exertion. A wavering smile, followed by a slight tittering laugh. Eyes widening at the sound, out of place. Her voice, she had her voice, but as soon as she tried to speak, there was nothing. Feeling rather silly, her hand reached delicate fingers to her throat, then lips. Shasta laughed again. It was more than yesterday. A joy shared, she stared into his eyes. For the first time, in a long long while, she was happy.<br><br>(9,000)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dreamweaver</strong> on <strong>31-05-2010, 22:39:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Her hand felt nearly lifeless when he first grasped her, yet in that tug up toward the surface of the water he sensed a surging in her, and her fingers gripped his back tightly.&nbsp; Her arm broke the surface of the water with a tinkling splash that sounded like countless shards of glass being tossed across a smooth floor, and the rest of her body followed.&nbsp; There was no sense of weight behind it, simply that first resistance to his pull before she was rising out of the water to him.<br><br>As is oft to happen in dreams, the scene shifted slightly as he drew her forth from the water.&nbsp; In a heartbeat they were laying upon the smooth stone, still surrounded by the billowing steam from the hot spring water that flowed in at the far end.&nbsp; She lay on her back, no longer wet, with her soft brown hair fanning out like a halo around her head.&nbsp; Her body was warm underneath where his hand laid upon her abdomen, and his thigh was drawn up and over her own leg as he rested upon one elbow and looked down into her beautiful face.<br><br>She tried to speak again, lips moving, yet no sound touched his ears.&nbsp; It was a frustrating phenomenon, yet it was obvious to him that within this dream, words would not be exchanged by either of them.&nbsp; As he watched, her lips curled into a soft smile, and she<br><br>laughed.<br><br>The sound was ... musical, such a simple sound yet in its simplicity it carried the weight of a mountain.&nbsp; His heart surged in his chest, and he too laughed, the sound resonating with her own.&nbsp; His grip tightened slightly upon her side and he leaned in, lowering his mouth to kiss her lips passionately - never had he felt this much unbridled desire, in reality or dream - it simply existed, and could not be denied.<br><br>Their lips parted for a moment and he inhaled a deep breath through mouth and nose, the scent of her so unmistakable and so powerful that it sent another shiver of emotion down his spine.&nbsp; They were naked then, pressed tightly together and with her thighs raised along his hips - his thundering, pounding cock pressing down firmly onto the soft rise of her mound.<br><br><em>I need you,</em> he mouthed silently, looking down into her face as the press of her hardened nipples grazed over the carpet of his chest hair.&nbsp; He did need her - in this place, where he had come to feel unmistakably alive, she was now all that made him what he was.&nbsp; And he knew that without her, something would go terribly awry.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oreo</strong> on <strong>25-06-2010, 07:36:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The moon shone through wisps of his hair, an ethereal nimbus making him appear more savior than lover. In this place he had become both. As the world tore her down, he had the power to raise her to a pinnacle of pure joy. A moment before she had seemed light as a feather, pulled up from the dismal abyss. A brief flicker and she found herself pinned to the cool surface of the rock, his thigh across her trembling limbs. <br><br>Warmth seeped from his hand into her belly, the wisp of fabric a minor separation blocking his radiant touch. Laughter, soft and light mingled with the deeper bass of his own chortle. There was no fear in his proprietorial grip at her waist, only an ease as she marveled that he was here and she belonged to him. Heart and soul twined in the boundary of her dream. Nothing mattered except he was here again, loving her.<br><br>His mouth drew away from hers, the scent of his skin so strong it lingered upon her tongue, a rich craving. Her head rose, unwilling to let loose his lips. A shuffling of thoughts and her fingers trailed down his back, her thighs cradling his hips. Silken skin drifted downward, her ankles stroking the musculature of his calves. The swell of his manhood lodged against her mons. Timid eyes searched his face as she felt her petals glaze with nectar. His weight pressed the girth of his manhood between her nether-lips. His tumid length slipped upward, sacs resting against her entry, as her toes wiggled along side his ankles. It was the re-bending of her legs that caused every sense of reality to fold in on itself. The arch of her foot caressed up the length of his calves. Each inch higher drove his shaft down between her petals until her knees met with the back of his arms, his glans pulsating against the pinging nub of her pearl. <br><br>Loins, athrob with life, clenched in an all encompassing ache. Fevered eyes locked onto his trying to read past the gleam of desire. The probing need of her soul shone through green orbs. Her gaze traced every feature downward to stare longingly at his lips. <br><br>How desperately she wanted to speak, unburden her heart. Rosy lips parted, their laughter gone. The muscles of her throat caught, clenching against her vocal cords. Trembling fingers raised to trace the movement of his mouth. <em>I need you.</em> A silent chuckle set the inflamed nubs of her areola pressing into the mat of hair covering his pectorals. Fire as wild as the sun burst open within her heart. Shasta had to have him. He was all that bound her to something good in this dreary life.<br><br>Parted lips mouthed back, <em>I know...love me.</em> The next instant the sound of her moan vibrated against his chest, the ridge of his crown passed over her pearl and his glans broke through her gate to slam against her cervix. Her hips arched up and suddenly she was in control, looking down into his face. Shasta almost didn't know how to deal with the reality of the situation. She was always the one held down, pinned, hurt. How free she felt, free to pleasure. Her thumbs played across his nipples as her hips slid forward then back. A half chuckle, half groan mingled with the dripping of water. The slight breeze carried the delicate sound to his ears, as she rode her hips against his loins. <br><br>((10,000))
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Distant Dreams (Oreo and Dreamweaver)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dreamweaver</strong> on <strong>08-07-2010, 01:02:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was as things so often were in dreams, connected yet disjointed in ways that were only explainable by understanding that they were the product of an unconscious mind.&nbsp; Pierce didn't care about the details one bit as he stared up into her enraptured face, her body riding up and down along the pounding length of his cock.&nbsp; In fact, the image was so vivid and real that he didn't care that it was dream at all.&nbsp; The intense pleasure that washed over him, through him - it was like nothing he had ever experienced in dream ever before.<br><br>A breath of wind flowed over the lake, eddying the warm steam around his body as he clasped onto her thighs with his hands.&nbsp; Sensation increased with the caress of the soft wind, a pleasure that seemed to flow through him like a rushing river.&nbsp; It quickly eclipsed anything he had ever experienced, his body humming with passion and tuned to that of the dream-woman who rode atop his pulsing cock.<br><br>A flash, a dream-stutter and they were moved again - this time both kneeling with her facing away, his arm wrapped around her waist and his lips brushing the back of her neck.&nbsp; Her back was arched, a graceful curve as she pushed her backside out toward him, and his cock was still buried deep within the silken heat of her tight pussy.&nbsp; Another shudder, groaning of passion as he drew back and thrust himself to the depths of her, driving his swollen glans against the rigid barrier of her cervix.&nbsp; It was too much ... It felt too amazing, too perfect, too irresistible...<br><br>With a shuddering groan, Pierce's body convulsed and he drove hard into her, the feel of her trembling body against his, warm and supple...<br><br><hr><br>"Fuuuuck!" Pierce shouted out as he twisted in the tangled sheets and blankets, his body jerking upward in an uncontrolled spasm of ecstasy.&nbsp; He choked and gasped as his climax hammered through him, cum jetting into his shorts as he twisted in agonized pleasure.&nbsp; It continued for another thirty seconds, body bucking and twisting almost completely beyond his control as his mind reeled with the intensity of it.<br><br>As his climax finally ended, Pierce collapsed back to the mattress in a breathy exhalation of air.&nbsp; His body tingled from head to toe and was drenched in sweat as if he'd just climbed a mountain, and his mind was so numbed with the intensity of his dream sequence that he laid there for another five minutes contemplating the reality of it all.&nbsp; The dream, so intense and detailed - the sensations, unlike anything he'd experienced while awake, much less while asleep - and the vision of her face, her eyes, the unbridled emotion captured in her visage that still hovered in his mind like a color headshot of the woman's amazing beauty.<br><br>Who was she?<br><br>Yes, he knew the truth of it - she was a figment of his imagination, a simulacrum of his unfulfilled desire painted across his subconscious and reminding him in vivid detail of how badly he needed ...<br><br>... something.<br><br>With a groan, Pierce sat up and tossed off the ruined sheets, crisp white linen stained and dark with sweat and cum.&nbsp; It was the second time in two days that he was going to need to change his bedding before sleep, and he only had three sets of fucking sheets to begin with.&nbsp; At this rate, he was going to need to get more sheets or start doing laundry twice a week just to keep his bed clean.&nbsp; With a frustrated sigh he strode into the bathroom and cranked on the shower, then peeled off his spunk-soaked boxers before climbing into the heavy spray of water.
			</dd>
		</dl>
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