Do dreams really cum true?

It was the kind of dream that you get just before you wake up in the morning, all soft and warm. I didn't want it to end. I fought to hang onto it as I felt myself drifting toward consciousness. He was standing there in my dream, tall and dark and shirt less, flat stomach and crooked smile. I knew him from someplace, but couldn't remember where. It didn't matter in my dream. He smiled, stepped closer and pressed his lips to mine.

Somehow, my hand slipped beneath the sheet and found the mound of my pussy. I always slept nude, especially since my nakedness seemed to embarrass my two eighteen-year-old virginal roommates who blushed at the very mention of sex.

He lifted his face from mine and my other hand rose to my breast squeezing and pulling at the hard and swollen nipple. I wanted him, whoever he was. I willed him closer in my dream. His mouth lowered to mine. His lips parted and his soft moist tongue slipped into my mouth. Our tongues caressed, wrestled and danced with each other in a sensual minuet.

It felt so real and my fingers entered the warm wet slit of my pussy, making my dream more real yet.

His lips left mine, brushed my neck and finally fastened themselves to my nipple, sucking on it, then traveling to the other. His hands massaged the round mounds of tit. His teeth nibbled and pulled at each in turn. Somehow he found a way to slide the sheet down my legs, exposing my burning pussy to view.

I felt the cool air on my sopping nether regions. My fingers were buried in my pussy now, stroking deeper and faster.

His lips left my nipples, danced lightly over my stomach and gently forced my hand from my pussy. His tongue entered me. I was in heaven.

I lay back, letting his tongue and lips and fingers drive me closer and closer to my orgasm. As I felt the tension building, I reached down and entwined my hands in his long silky hair. I pressed his face to my cunt. I humped that glorious tongue of his like it was a tiny cock.

But his hair wasn't long and silky. His hair was short. I wasn't dreaming any more. There was a tongue in my pussy. I held someone's head in my hands. I knew I wasn't him, but it felt so good. I couldn't look. I wouldn't open my eyes. I didn't want it to stop.

I felt the soft pressure of lips surround the swollen button of my clit. Explosions of pleasure began from someplace within my cunt. I rode that tongue to one earth shattering orgasm and then another and then a third. I screamed and cried and screamed again as those electrifying spasms tore through my body again and again until at last I collapsed back on the pillow, my eyes still closed, drifting back into the wonderful warmth of yet another dream.

When I awoke, I was alone, my mystery lover gone.

It had to be a roommate, but I didn't know who. Was it blond and bashful Kathy with the tiny tits and the secret file of nude male pictures on her computer? Or was it Rosa with the dusky skin and the dark eyes and the vibrator in her night table drawer?

I had to know and at the same time, didn't want to know. I wasn't gay, had never been with a woman. Yet, it had felt so good, had been so right.

Three days later, it happened again. I lay there naked in bed, eyes closed, sheet gathered at my feet, reveling in the luxury of extra time in bed with my early class canceled. I heard the girls moving about, heard them dressing, heard one of them leave.

I wanted to recapture that dream, to feel the warmth and excitement that I had known just a few days before. But I was awake, not asleep. I lay there feigning sleep, my nakedness on view. I stretched, opening my legs wide, dropping my hand to the warm moistness of my pussy, making the sounds, I hoped, of someone in the embrace of an erotic dream.

That's when I felt the warmth of her breath on my face. Her lips brushed mine, barely felt, but greatly desired. Fingertips traveled slowly about my body. Hands cupped my breasts. Teeth and lips caressed and pulled at my nipples, exciting me, drawing forth moans of pleasure, driving me to offer every secret part of my body to my lover.

Once again, lips covered my belly with kisses. Once again, fingers spread my pussy wide and slipped inside to begin my journey to orgasm. Once again, tongue and lips began their long desired assault on my cunt.

It seemed to last even longer this time, but was still over much too soon. I screamed and thrashed and called out. I told her not to stop, told her to make me come again and again. She did.

At last, when the room smelled of sex and the sheets lay soaked with sweat and the nectar of my pussy, when I collapsed in a shaking, shivering mass of exploding pleasure, I heard a soft unrecognized voice whispering in my ear. "Whenever you want, I'll be there."

A mouth covered mine then, a mouth tasting of pussy, my pussy. I sucked on that tongue, licked at the juices covering that unseen face, intent on devouring the sweet taste of my own juices.

Hands pushed me back onto the pillow. "Tomorrow," the voice said.

It's been that way for a month now, and still I don't know who my lover is. I have never opened my eyes, not even yesterday when she climbed naked into my bed and pressed her tits against mine and ground her sweet pussy against mine in mutual pleasure.

I fondled those tits, sucked those nipples and feasted on that sweet tasting pussy for the first time. I heard the animal sounds of her pleasure as I drove my tongue and fingers into her sopping pussy again and again.

Still, I didn't look. Still, I don't know if it is Kathy or Rosa. And each day, I say to myself. "Perhaps, tomorrow I will look."

The end