Fantasy Thesandman: Dream Walker

Authors note: As very special favor for some very special friends, I've been asked to resubmit a couple of my older stories once listed under Thesandman. It is not my intention to submit all or many of my older works, but for those who have truly supported and appreciated my writing over the years, I have relented to do so. Additionally, I will not turn voting on for any of these, as they have had their moment in the sun so to speak.

But for those of you who've asked: Resubmitted

The Sandman, "Dream-Walker"

Long ago when I was very young, my Grandfather once told me about "Dream-walkers". I didn't fully understand then the meaning of that, or what it meant until much later in my life. But he told me that being able to Dream Walk wasn't a generational ability, though it had manifested itself down the family line from time to time. It had been a long time since a Dream-Walker had been borne, but as I had been having dreams, which were more like out of body experiences, he had told me this was a good sign that perhaps I might in fact be one, and eventually learn the secrets of Dream Walking and what that would eventually mean.

Sometimes when I dreamed, I would see what I could only describe as a thin blue colored shimmering curtain. When I parted that curtain, walking through it, I entered a realm of sparkling lights surrounded by total darkness, a void that was infinite. Over time I learned that I could go to any one of those lights in the blink of an eye, no matter how far or distant it seemed. The twinkling lights became bubbles, not unlike those we have all created at one time or another with a mixture of soapy water and a cheap plastic dipper that we blew on to form the type of bubble's that existed in this world of dreams. I learned that small bubbles were simple dreams of children, and that the larger the bubbles, the older the person was who might be found there dreaming.

As I learned, explored, and eventually came to know, color's signified the types of dreams a person was having or experiencing. Through trial and error, exploration and experience gained in my occasional nocturnal excursions, I found that bubble's, which had a purplish tinted color to them, were usually those of people who were having some sort of sexual dream. The deeper the color, the more erotic, and so on. I also discovered that once I had visited a particular individual, I could return to them anytime I liked, instantaneously, regardless of the thousands, tens of thousands of sparkling bubble lights that seemed to hover nearby any one of them I had visited previously. The first time I had made this particular discovery was quite by accident, but it was the springboard for what I can only say became a near constant obsession for me afterwards whenever I found myself in the "void", and dream walking.

As I had learned, I could slip inside someone's bubble, someone's dream. In that instant, I took on shape, became apart of whatever it was the person was dreaming about, including their surroundings. I became then apart of their dream experience.

We all know how disjointed dreams can sometimes be. People, places, even situations can suddenly change in the blink of an eye without rhyme or reason. And being apart of someone else's dream, when you haven't learned how to control that, can be a little eerie.

I had just slipped inside a young woman's bubble dream. At the time I had not yet fully learned the various shades and colors that implied what type of dream a person or individual was having. I had picked this particular bubble as it seemed closest to me, and the color was a light shade of violet, which I was attracted to for his alluring beauty more than anything else. I eased through the outer wall of the bubble, and suddenly found myself standing in a young woman's bedroom. She was sitting at some sort of vanity desk preening her self and brushing her long blonde flowing hair. She was wearing a sheer white nightgown that did little if anything to conceal her womanly charms, and I judged her to be in her late teens by all appearances. I had not moved after just entering her dream, but realized if she turned in the slightest, she would see me, or at least in my mind, I felt somehow that she would. Spotting an area of concealment next to her canopied bed, I envisioned myself hidden away behind it, and suddenly I was.

There was a brief moment however when the young woman perhaps sensed my presence and turned to face and look in the direction where I had first been standing. In that moment, her hair changed from the long golden blonde it had been to a much shorter dirty blonde coloring. Additionally the white night gown had also disappeared, and she as sitting now in a well-worn, ill-fitting pair of baggy pajamas instead. Spotting herself in the mirror this way, once again the image shimmered and returned to the way she had obviously first imagined herself to have been when I first entered her room. She quickly finished brushing her long blonde hair, then stood. A mirror suddenly appeared behind the door where it had not been previously. She walked towards it, and as she did so the white nightgown suddenly dissolved so that she as now standing in front of it totally nude. I watched her turn, studying herself in her reflection.

I inwardly smiled to myself. As the young woman turned, I noticed her breasts suddenly enlarge, they grew to enormous proportions initially, but then as she continued to turn studying herself in the mirror, they seemed to go through a wide myriad of changes and shapes. She finally settled on breasts not too far differently than what I had first seen nestled beneath the confines of that sheer white gown. They were perhaps a bit more perky, nipple's which were now slightly upturned at an angle, than as they'd originally been and perhaps a bit fuller in shape as well. Satisfied with this new image, she looked at herself and suddenly a much tighter firmer tummy appeared, she didn't do anything that I could see or notice to change the appearance of her neatly trimmed pubic patch, except perhaps to lighten the coloring to more closely resemble the hair on her head. Once again, she turned to view her new self at all angles within the floor length mirror. Satisfied she smiled, and then I watched as she slipped a hand slowly and gently down between her legs.

I was totally unprepared for what happened next. Still too new to understanding what Dream Walking was all about, or of the possible dangers or side effects to having invaded someone else's dream, I became disoriented momentarily as the girl suddenly disappeared and the room and surroundings changed. I was no longer hidden, or standing beside her bed, but found myself standing out in the open once again. Thankfully however, my presence remained undiscovered.

Glancing around me, the room had turned into a magnificent field of brightly colored flowers. Bright sunshine, warm and delightful fell upon me. The young woman was still only a few feet away, but thankfully now engaged with a young man as they lay atop a blanket spread atop the wild grass and flowers of the meadow I now found myself standing in. I quickly dropped down, envisioned the grass high enough to conceal me, and thankfully it did. I was learning, and quickly. But it was obvious I still had much to learn yet about Dream Walking and all that it entailed.

In my newfound concealment, I continued to watch her now as she lay beneath the man who had suddenly joined us both. There was something vaguely familiar about him, though I could not initially place who he was, or where I had seen him before. It was only when she was obviously in the throes of ecstasy, close to achieving orgasm did she call out his name, which I only then recognized as being a young actor of recent rise to stardom and fame amongst the younger set.

I watched him make love to her, watched him kissing her and caressing her with wild unabandoned passion, watched as his extremely thick long erect penis filled her, moving in and out of her so smoothly and so slowly, obviously pleasing her in exactly the way she had wanted him to do, or in this case, was without specific words, having him do.

Once again, as he kissed and suckled her breasts, they seemed to grow to even slightly larger proportions. Even her nipples grew fatter, more elongated, and he cupped them in his hands and told her how beautiful her breasts were, and how he enjoyed touching them and playing with them.

It was when things had seemed to go past that wild climatic ending I had watched and observed, that I realized how precarious my situation actually was. Once again the meadow seemed to be shimmering as though fading away. The famous young actor dissolved away into nothingness, and the young woman once again resting comfortably atop her own bed, hair back to the short dish-water blonde color I had seen it, and wearing the same faded worn pajama's I had startled her back into wearing once previously.

Worse, where I had been only moments ago half kneeling, half lying in a tall patch of grass, I suddenly found myself in that same position, but now fully exposed in the middle of her bedroom floor with no place to hide. I worriedly glanced about for an exit way, and immediately spotted her bedroom door, only now it wasn't the door really, but that shimmering blue vale of light from this dream back into the void from which I'd come. Having no choice, I stood and bolted for the door, heard a shrill scream arise from her as I rose and departed, though not looking back as I did, and managed within seconds to literally dive through the opening. That scream, her scream was cut off abruptly the moment I reentered the void. I saw the path in which I had come; somehow it lingered in a shimmering effervescence of its own, guiding me back through the void, back to my own dream sphere, my own bubble. I soon pushed against the thin layer and slipped through and immediately awoke.

It was morning, and as the new days sunlight peeked through the half parted curtains of my window, I wondered how the young woman would think upon, or possibly explain away the strange encounter, the strange dream she had experienced. What had started out, or been for her an erotic fantasy of making love to someone she obviously admired, even had a romantic crush on perhaps, had turned into an unexplainable nightmare at the end. For that I felt a little guilty, as it had not been my intention for that to happen. But I am sure that she no doubt would remember when she awoke, the strange memory of some strange man she had never seen before, running from the middle of her bedroom through her bedroom door. Perhaps it would be at best a fragmented thought, something she would discard as easily as she first recalled it upon awakening.

But I had learned much in this Dream-Walk, and that was, that I still had much more to learn. I could manipulate a person's dream to some extent, obviously become apart of it myself. Something I would have to be careful with in doing, if in fact I ever did. Secondly, I had no control of another person's dreams; I could just as easily be swept away or encompassed into whatever situation that person might fantasize or dream about. And I still had no idea as yet how that might actually impact upon a person's waking thoughts or memories of their past nights dreaming. Was that significant? Or not?

Dream Walking was for me not an automatic thing either. I wasn't able to control it, or do it every night. But when I did sleep, and when I did see that blue shimmering vale of light, I was very much aware of the void on the other side, and new that I could enter it then and venture out into the world of dreams. I was careful after that, sometimes peeking in, just inside a person's dream bubble, like a hazy thought just on the edge of someone's sub consciousness, lingering in the shadows like a forgotten memory or a thought...I was, "it's just on the tip of my tongue" in a sense, Knowing it was there...that I was there, but not quite grasping what it was exactly.

As I continued with my nightly excursions, I gained knowledge. One of the most important aspects of which was that I could control who I was or how I actually did appear to the person's dreams I invaded. It was a simple process really. Once I had discovered whom the person was that was actually dreaming, if there were more than one person within the dream, it was easy for me to "assume" the identity of the other whoever that may be. I simply saw myself as that person, and immediately took on their looks; mannerism's and speech even, though I had found in several dreams to my surprise, that there wasn't as much vocal communication actually taking place as one might actually imagine. It was a world of thoughts as much as anything else. Thoughts that were directed, picked up, acted upon as though having actually been spoken. And that was something else that took some getting used to. But with those projected thoughts,

I learned much from them as well. I learned very quickly what was hoped for, or expected of me as though prearranged, choreographed ahead of time. Almost like walking into a scripted play, or an ongoing movie reel that could be played over and over again if the dreamer so desired it to be. I knew my lines then, almost ahead of time, and if I stayed within that context, went along exactly as I was supposed to, the dreamer, never felt or sensed anything differently, or out of the ordinary. Occasionally, when I strayed from that, or interjected anything differently, I noticed then that the dreamer seemed to pause as though struggling with the sudden unexpected change, and was not quite aware of how to respond to it. In these instances, natural normal everyday surroundings suddenly took shape, appearances became more closely associated to the persons real world and real self.

I had ventured out into the void, found a particularly interesting shaded bubble off in the distance and immediately headed for it. I took the time needed to acquaint myself with as much information as possible before joining the dream. I had learned previously that by throwing out simple 'thought-questions' I could in moments worth of time learn enough to know about the person of whom the dreamer was imagining. It was a necessary step and process in order to become that person, to be able to interact and go along with the flow of the dreamers' desires without upsetting the expected and natural flow of events.

And so it was that I came to know a very few special women, many of which I would visit with frequently and often. The first of which was Barbara.

She was, even in her dreams, her real natural looking self. And I liked that. She didn't try to pretend or be anyone other than the person she was in the waking world. But she was a different "acting" person in the dream world as opposed to the erotic world she sometimes found herself visiting. I had been drawn quite by chance; quite by random curiosity to her dream sphere that first night. Entering through her bubble, I had watched and observed her, saw as well as felt a long hidden longing for a particular individual. A man she had desired sought after for quite sometime without ever having told him that she felt the way she did about him. Only in her dreams of course.

When I first encountered Barbara, she was standing in what appeared to be an elegant sitting room of an elaborate hotel suite. She was pacing around the room somewhat nervously, anxiously as though waiting for someone to finally arrive. I shared her thoughts then, preparing myself for the part I would play in the scripted scenario of her dream. I quickly learned that she was awaiting the arrival of a man with whom she had had a very brief one time only encounter; it had not even culminated in their being together, a few very brief stolen kisses, passionate frantic embraces and caresses which had brought them both to the brink of finally consummating their encounter together. She had at the last moment pushed him away however and terminated afterwards any possibility of their ever being together after that. He was, her sisters' husband.

I waited until within the dream, he finally knocked. She had expected it of course, knowing exactly where it was she would be when he did knock. Barbara had in fact picked up the glass of wine that suddenly appeared on the table. She'd sipped it, and looked towards the door just a fraction of a second before the knock even came. She bid him to come in then, and he did. I took a moment to scrutinize him, place the physical of him firmly in my own mind, and then waited out the opportunity when I would step in and take over his part.

"You shouldn't have come." Barbara told him. "I told you we should never meet, never could ever take that risk. I shouldn't have told you I'd even be here visiting. That was my mistake and one in which I regret now having done."

I saw her turn slightly her back towards him as she ventured off towards the balcony, and in that moment, I became Andrew. I waited my next move, my next line as it suddenly came to me. Knowing now exactly how it was that I was to respond, what I was to say and do. I smiled inwardly, anxiously. I was excited.

She was a self-made woman of means. By her looks, she was in her mid fifty's perhaps even early sixty's though she certainly didn't look it. Even her dark colored hair, had only the faintest traces of gray etched in it, and not enough to detract from her still young looking face to belie her true age.

I knew I was to approach her from behind and throw my arms around her as she stepped out into the night onto the balcony. I knew then as well, I was to kiss and nuzzle her neck and be prepared then for her breakaway from me.

"Andrew. No. We can't you know that."

I was no more than fifty years of age, perhaps less even. I knew suddenly that I was married to her sister and had been for several years now. And I also knew as the memory of a night perhaps a year or so ago entered my mind, that she had wanted me, loved me even from the first time she'd ever seen me.

"No one but you and I will ever know." I retorted, once again going towards her. She had of course broken away from me, as I knew that she would. I had already seen all that and more in my minds eye. And I was expected, as well as directed to approach her again, which of course I did.

When I had first placed my arms around her and attempted to hug her to me, I had discovered in that simple act that she was obviously wearing nothing at all beneath the elegant silk gown that she was wearing. It was intended that I would of course, and I did.

The cool night air had hardened her nipples and as she turned around once again to face me, I saw them pressing against the tight smooth material of her elegantly designed garment. She knew I was gazing at her, looking at them hardening even more so, and she crossed her arms across her breasts.

"I agreed to see you. But only long enough to tell you to your face that we cannot ever again place ourselves in such a compromising position. I love my sister....and you, too much to ever want to do anything that would hurt or even possibly destroy either of you."

The sensation of actually leaving then came to me. I knew she was expecting, it was scripted, that I would stand there silently for a moment longer, would turn finally, and that I would then leave. She would go to her bed sometime afterwards, and fantasize about "Andrew" making love to her while she masturbated. So even in her dream, could she only do so about him, not even allowing herself the joy of making love to Andrew even in this realm, even in this so near innocent way.

And I wasn't about to do that. No way, no how.

I did stand there for a moment; she was after all expecting that. But I had in fact entirely removed all my clothing. Now the nice thing about a dream is, you can of course do whatever you want to do in an instant. So there I now stood, nude, sporting a magnificent erection. Andrew had a fairly nice sized cock in fact, and I was pleased that he did. It might help if this seduction was to actually work.. And I still didn't have any clue that it would yet; I was branching off into some pretty unchartered territory here. When the sound of Andrew walking away never came, Barbara turned, a somewhat puzzled, slightly curious expression already etched into her face. Seeing me standing there nude was as much as a shock as it was a surprise to her. Neither one of which had been planned for or prepared for of course.

"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-Ra*e 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.​