My dreaming brain cracks me up sometimes.
Last night I’m trying to help my boyfriend adjust things inside our vaguely car-like vehicle. Making my usual hash of it -as I tend to do with any technologically advanced assisting. He says he’s on it and I turn to him and say: “What do you want ME on? Besides your cock”. (Can you mentally roll your eyes at yourself in a dream? Yes, indeed). He gives me this look that’s questioning, laughing and hot all at the same time. Apparently it’s been quite some time since we last had sex. Our eyes speak volumes. He lays his hand on his promisingly abrupt erection. But…
For some reason, we can’t just tear our clothes off and get down to bizness. We have to find a PLACE to do it(why not the “car”? I have no idea, it seemed ideally suited to me, being mostly open space inside, lined with pool-table-like greenish felt) and apparently it also involves a lot of masturbation on his part. So we detour through the landscaped yard at his mom’s(?!) and find a likely looking spot amidst the rhodies. He starts to lay me down on the grass, but I look up and see that we’re right below the living room and his mom is watching TV. “Hey, we can’t do this here, your mom’s up there -she could look down at any moment!” He says: “What’s she doing?” “Watching TV and…” I glance up again. “Um, same thing WE’RE doing, actually”. And it’s true. She’s got this giant dildo and-
We move again. This time we find an exercise room and we start moving the multitude of exercise bikes out of the way to make a little lovenest in the middle of the carpet. Or at least, *I’m* moving them OUT of the way. He seems to be crowding them up against us in an ever-shrinking circle. I protest, saying we need space to flail about and we won’t really want exerbikes falling on us. More masturbation. Hmm.. All this fluffing is starting to worry me a little. I seem to recall far less prep and far more leap-and-devour-like-hungry-beasts in our previous sex life.
I move towards him with intent and as the bikes start to fall, I wake up.