#682

I don’t know about posting this one. It’s true, but I’m worried about being judged for it. It bounces from asexual to *very* sexual back and forth for one. Then the whole thing feels ridiculous. Because it IS ridiculous. But I love this kind of ridiculous! Lol. I think I’m going to post it anyway because even if everyone thinks me silly for it, both the dream bit and the waking bit were powerful for me. And….I guess that’s all there is to say about that. 

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I was completely naked. She was, too. I stood behind her with my hands on her hips. Slowly I grazed the back of her neck with my lips, kissing here, there. Over her spine and to the left, downward to the muscles of her shoulder, I nuzzled her for a few moments then stood still, sliding my hands up her stomach and over her breasts, her nipples, grasping. In a normal context this would probably be viewed as erotic, but in this dream it wasn’t. None of this was sexual and I was not aroused. It was powerful, more deep than that. It was closeness, it was love and adoration in it’s purest, rawest form. It was wanting to be close and make-believe you possess even though you don’t. And you don’t want to either because if you possessed that love it would be less beautiful. She ran her fingers over mine. 

This is it, I thought. This is everything I’ve ever wanted.

In the next moment she was turning in my arms, deliberately and I saw her. Her hair was wheat coloured, straight with a slight wave and it ran down between her shoulderblades. She was small, an athletic body with smooth definition, her breasts slightly larger than one would expect with her frame. He face was wide with sharper cheekbones, like a norwegian face. Her eyes were green with flecks of brown. We looked at each other and she kissed me. I returned then laid my head against her shoulder and she held me. It was like I was wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and safety and I forgot everything, even her, and was completely at peace. It was the sort of perfect that one can only realistically experience in dreams, the sort of perfect you might feel once, or twice if you’re lucky, in the waking world. 

When I woke up I was still warm and comfortable, but the deep sense of peace had left me. It bothered me to stay in my room so I didn’t, I went downstairs. I didn’t bother to turn on any lights and I didn’t turn them in the bathroom either. I turned on the shower, setting it high. Our water takes several seconds to heat up, so I stood outside resting my head against the shower door. Ours is one of the kinds that slide and it has three frosted panels. The frame of each is a brassy-coloured plated metal and I rested my forehead and nose against one of these while I waited. It chilled me and it reminded me more of the dream. Now I started to feel the base eroticism that a dream like that would normally invoke in me. As I remembered, I remembered her body and her touch and her lips on mine and I stirred. I stood there for longer than necessary, then shook it aside and stepped in the shower. 

I wasn’t there to be clean but rather to just feel the water and be calm. I sat down beneath the stream and let the hot water wash over me. I tried to let the sensation drain away the the thoughts from my mind as it usually does. It did. I calmed. It was absolutely wonderful, the physical sensation just what I wanted. I touched over my chest and that was nice too. Then I was struck with an idea. What about ice? That could be neat. I was still in that half-asleep state I usually am when I initially get up, maybe more so because I was working hard at relaxing, so I didn’t second guess the idea like I would normally. Instead I just got up and walked naked and dripping to the kitchen in the dark, pulled out an ice tray and went back to the shower. I cracked the tray since it was a fresh one I had made this afternoon after the lunchtime dishes, took one then hopped back inside. I started with my shoulder and felt the zip of cold I expected. I gasped. Not because of the ice cube, but the stream of ice-water that dripped down from the cube. It went slid quickly down my nipple and my stomach like a little lightning bolt, full of instantaneous shock, then nothingness as I pulled the ice cube away. It was not what I expected at all, I hadn’t considered the trails of water ice leaves behind. I ran the cube over my arms, my hands, my chest, my stomach, my thighs. All over the electricity of the ice-cube left tiny trails of visceral pleasure. It was exquisite. Then the cube was gone and the hot water was turning the sensation of cold to burning which was even better. I opened the shower door and grabbed another ice cube. I ran it over my body some like the one before, then I thought about what it tasted like, so I did. I popped it into my mouth and, lo and behold, it tasted like an ice cube. Imagine that. It was an altogether good ice cube though and the novelty of being able to pop it out of my mouth back into my hand without any worry made me happy. Like a little child again. Then I licked the ice cube and I was like an adult again, instead imagining it was someone else, someone like her. I continued. Then I realized myself and what I was doing; I tossed the ice cube aside into the basin. 

I washed my hair and my body and sat back down underneath the stream. I decided I wanted a third one, so I grabbed another ice cube and ran it over my body, quickly this time. The effect was much more pronounced than going slow was, both the shock of ice-water and the burn that followed as the heat of the shower sent confused signals to my nerved. My entire body was burning and my mind followed. It wasn’t ice that was touching me, it was her fingers, her lips, her tongue, her nails. The beating of the shower became her whispers and I ached and ached and ached.