|The Dreamer (standard:fantasy, 2109 words)|
|Author: Andrew R||Added: Jun 17 2002||Views/Reads: 1602/944||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Ever wished your dreams could come true? What do you dream about? Think about it, do you really want that to come true? Especially when dreams become nightmares.|
THE DREAMER THE DREAMER By Andrew Rough They told me I was special when they finally got hold of me, tracked me down for sure. I didn't realised at the time how much surveillance went in to finding their targets. I didn't even know I was a target until he came, like the angel of death, riding a wave of pestilence and destruction through my dreams. I remember a time when I was happy before it all happened, just Carla and me. Things are different now though. I was thirteen when I first noticed something strange, I remember being exited at finding my first pubic hair after hours of meticulous searching in the shower. I had been waiting for months, ever since James Leroy proudly showed us all his forested armpits in the changing rooms at school. I had felt quite inadequate that day and had been extra careful not to let anyone see my privates when I got changed. I was even careful about how high I lifted my arms in case anyone noticed how bald they were. When it finally happened I felt a swell of pride and celebrated in the fashion of a typical thirteen-year-old boy. That night I dreamt of having hairy armpits just like James Leroy's and bushy balls to match. The next morning I discovered I had a lot more hair; it didn't take a lot of searching to find either. It wasn't as much as I had dreamed of, but it was unexpected all the same. They tell me that it starts at the onset of puberty and your power grows as your hormones settle and reconfigure your body. My dreams only had partial effect in the beginning. Soon after that I noticed other strange things happening, like the new French exchange student coming on to me one day in the listening booth. I had dreamed about it the night before. In my dream she had stripped in front of me and given me the best blow job of my life, (at that point I had just learnt from James Leroy what blow jobs really were and that there wasn't much actual 'blowing' involved.) My dream got more passionate and I took her from behind making her scream in pleasure. The next day Adriana, (I think that was her name,) smiled at me strangely. She was blonde with gorgeous eyes; she had full lips, which kept making me think about blowjobs and small pert breasts. She was wearing a loose fitting shirt with the top two buttons undone so that when she leaned over I could see the black lacy underwear holding her perfect breasts in place. The strange thing was that before I had dreamt about her she hadn't given me the time of day. Normally when I entered the listening booth Adriana would be sitting impassively staring at the wall with a bored expression on her face. She seemed to find the paintwork more interesting than me. I would falteringly give her my shopping list in bad Franglais, she, without even making eye contact, would answer my questions in a more fluent, though expressionless voice. That day was different. Her eyes lit up when she saw me enter the room, she made eye contact, which was a first. She kept leaning over and would provocatively play with the necklace hanging between her breasts. It didn't get the blowjob I dreamt of, or make her scream by passionately taking her from behind, but she did give me a kiss on the lips as I got up to leave, giving me a whole new perspective on the words 'French oral'. After that point my dreams of Adriana got stronger. Her desire for me seemed to grow stronger as well. Our passion grew into groping and using tongues in kissing; my dreams grew more graphic, until she started to look at me with a strangely disturbed expression on her face. She left to go back to France after six weeks; my fledgling powers had netted me countless snog's, thirteen gropes of her perfect breasts and on our parting afternoon my first blowjob. It lasted approximately 26 seconds and wasn't quite like my dream version, especially when Adriana nearly gagged at the end. But I was the only thirteen year old I knew who could truthfully say a seventeen-year-old French girl had given him a blowjob. Over the next few years my powers increased, my dreams came true with more and more accuracy, the trouble was I had no control over them, all I had learned how to do was manipulate the people I dreamt about to my own advantage. James Leroy reverted back to a pre-pubescent state at Click here to read the rest of this story (115 more lines)
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