The Dangers Of Dreaming

by Molly Moore

16th July

Dreams are powerful things sometimes, both the ones we have or our future hopes and desires and those that haunt our minds while we sleep. Last night I dreamt about a kiss; in the midst of a busy airport, his hands running through my hair, down my back and across my arse, and pulling me in tight against his body. It was powerful, possessive, greedy and overwhelming. It made my whole body throb. Of course this being a dream explains the fact that even thought I was completely naked, apart from a pair of flip-flops and my collar, no one around us seemed to be taking a blind bit of notice and they were all going about their own business without giving us a second glance. I felt vulnerable, yet completely safe.

Maybe that is how I feel with him, that my vulnerability is completely safe when he is near. I know when he is with me I feel a sense of self that I have never had in my life before. I have said this previously and I apologise for the cheesy line, but he completes me. He is the missing piece of me and I can’t wait for Monday so that we can fit back together properly. Opps, I have digressed from the dream, my mind is a little jumpy right now. No matter what I am doing, who I am talking to, I am constantly drawn to thoughts of Monday. Is it Monday yet?

Dreams are not only powerful things but they can be dangerous too, especially when you are a horny bag of pent-up lust and you are not supposed to even touch yourself, let alone cum, because when I woke this morning my fingers were firmly buried in my soaking wet pussy. Not the best start to the day, although under usual circumstances it would of course have been a lovely start but this time it left me squirming around on the sheets, my clits poking out and the juices slick and sticky on my thighs and not a damn thing I could do about. It has also set the theme for the rest of the day.

Maybe I am a glutton for punishment, or maybe it is a masochistic streak in me, but today I dispensed with panties altogether and found myself a lovely pair of tight-fitting jeans which I have spent all day wriggling around in. They cut into me and when I walk or if I wriggle in my chair just right then the seam rubs and catches at my clit sending little shock waves of pleasure through my pussy. He said no touching; he didn’t say anything about tight jeans doing the touch for me. Or is that bending the rules?


Ps…I wonder if maybe I should cuffs my wrist together tonight when I go to bed, to ensure that my dreams don’t lead me astray again.

Below is a list of the rest of the posts relating to this task


4 Minutes

8 Minutes

16 Minutes

32 Minutes

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1 comment

Nolens Volens July 18, 2011 - 4:21 pm

Damn, I am in limbo. Do you have a pair of handcuffs? I do. Not the cheap kind…the police issue.


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