Lucid Wet Dream

by

Caution: This Time Travel Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, True Story, Paranormal, Light Bond, First, Oral Sex, Cream Pie, .

Desc: Time Travel Sex Story: A middle-aged happily married man begins to reflect on a mistake made decades earlier that had cost him the girl of his dreams. While thinking of her and what went wrong, he suddenly realizes that he's dreaming of her and that it's a lucid dream - he can control what happens and play it out as it should have been.

Twenty five years on, one can easily see the mistakes made in their youth. But, as the saying goes, hindsight is 20/20. There is little to be gained by rehashing past mistakes in your head again and again, losing sleep over it, and making yourself mental in the process. And yet this is exactly what I did on a regular basis. It's said that without closure, no relationship is ever truly over. It's also been written that sometimes closure can come from writing a letter to your ex that you never intend to send. But sometimes closure can come in the form of a dream...

The first time I ever experienced what I would define as a "lucid wet dream" I was certain that I was somehow "quantum leaping" into my past self from the present. I had prepared for bed that night, a middle-aged man in my forties, snuggled in beside my wife. She was pregnant with our fourth child, and sex was something I dimly seemed to recall from nearly a year ago. My wife and I loved one another deeply, but with three kids and one on the way, making time for intimacy and passion is not often possible.

This night, I was horny, and my wife was understandably tired and eight months along, and not in any mood for sex. Although I was excited about becoming a father again in less than a month, I was frustrated. I was horny and riled up with too much sexual energy to just fall asleep. As I lay there, eyes closed, I started to fantasize about my earlier days, back in my late teens, when I was almost as frustrated sexually as I was this evening.

I had a "girlfriend" at that time, and she was insatiable - except when it came to having actual sex. She thought about it constantly, but never acted on it with me or any other living person besides herself. I swear that every minute we spent together in person, I could smell her potent pheromones even over her perfume, and the scent drove me wild with unrequited passion. Every move I'd make to bring my body close enough to hers to make a move, she'd wriggle away from like I had the plague. She was terrified of sexual contact, yet fascinated in the extreme by the idea.

It wasn't that Ruth was unattracted to me, as we'd talked about sex more times than I could count, but never in a way that lead to physical intimacy. Ruth's problem, as I saw it, was that she'd learned early on to seek other outlets for her sexual needs. In a nutshell, she was addicted to masturbation. In particular, shared masturbation through fantasy. You can venture a guess as to who was her lucky (or was it unlucky) partner in carnal chit-chat.

Ruth was not one to masturbate alone, at least not entirely. Her way was to call me up at all hours (or I her, it was mutual) and we'd pretend that we were "collaborating" on a writing project. She'd create these characters in her mind that were avatars for herself. Through these virtual personae, Ruth would fantasize about real sexual adventures that she was too terrified to attempt as her real self. And let me tell you, she had a torrid imagination! Many were the nights, and many times per night, that she lit me on fire from my loins to my cerebrum.

When I say we would pretend, that was exactly what we were doing. Never once did we discuss what we were actually doing during these ten and twelve hour marathon phone sessions, and any effort I made to "break down the wall" between the reality of what we were doing and fantasy was quickly side-stepped by her. I'd hint that I was stroking my cock while we talked but she'd act like she didn't hear me until I said "(insert character name) is stroking his cock." Somehow she couldn't commit to the fact that I was a real, live, horny guy her own age who had real needs of my own. And neither could Ruth admit that she was just as horny and just as excited as I was. She could only interact with me sexually when we were both in character.

Often, after several marathon orgasmic escapades, Ruth and I would be so exhausted we'd fall asleep in our beds with the phone still glued to our ears. It was somehow comforting for me to wake up and hear Ruth's regular, rhythmic breathing over the earpiece. We were sleeping together, in truest fashion – or at least, as true as any virtual relationship could ever be.

It was at times when I would awake, early in the wee hours, and hear Ruth soundly sleeping safe in her bed, that I would tell her just how I felt. I'd whisper softly into her ear that I loved her, had loved her from the moment we first met, and how much I wanted to see our relationship evolve from this – whatever this was – into something real. I know she heard me. I know because her best girlfriend, Lori, confronted me about it one day. She said, "Ruth told me that you said some things last night to her in her sleep" and then go on to say that these things were "very confusing" to her and that I should stop.

My first reaction was to tell Lori to go clean the impulse manifolds in her pajamas. But then I started thinking, and realized that for her to know, Ruth must have told her. And by told her, I mean the whole, sordid mess. Otherwise Lori would wonder why Ruth fell asleep on the phone with me, a guy who was not her "boyfriend" and for whom she had no feelings other than that of friendship.

That gave me hope. It made me realize that Ruth really did care about where our relationship was at present, and where it was headed. It told me also that she was not capable of seeing me in the role of "boyfriend." In order for me to be her boyfriend meant terminating the special friendship we had, at least in her mind. She couldn't bear to lose me as a friend. That's what she eventually told me, when I finally summoned up the courage to tell her outright that I loved her.

Over the decades since, I've gone over our strange relationship in my mind thousands of times, trying to figure out just what was really going on. If I'd become a psychiatrist, maybe I'd have a chance at coming to a retroactive diagnosis for what this really was, and a possible solution. But I wasn't a shrink and those days were far in the past and never to be relived.

In the present, I was happily married, a family man, and had to admit a indulging in a small guilty pleasure that Ruth was not only still single, but still living with her parents to this day. She'd never been able to commit, not to me, or anyone else apparently, and as far as I knew, was probably still a virgin. I often wondered if she looked at me now, with my wife and family, and thought to herself "this could have been my life."

After all, I had told her I loved her, and she'd said "I'm so sorry!" and hoped to somehow continue our special friendship after that as if nothing had happened. It hadn't. It ended quite abruptly after a collect call to her one night as I first started college. I didn't speak to her again for over twenty years, and then only in Facebook chat for a few hours.

Still, to hold a grudge against her on my part, or relish any misfortune upon her past or present was unfair. I would feel guilty whenever I smirked in response to mulling it over in my mind. It was a very sad ending for her, and though she always maintained she was happy and contented, I could never stop wondering how that was truly possible. Not because she'd rejected me. Whether she had been with me or not was immaterial. The fact that she had spinstered herself away in isolation was a fact and I guess from my perspective, I couldn't comprehend that existence as a fulfilling one.

I admitted to myself that Ruth and I had engaged in some of the most creatively wild sex I'd ever known; a damned shame it was that we never broke free of the "no touch" barriers she'd established for our encounters. I wished, not for the first time, that I could somehow go back in time and knock some sense into my past self, and urge him (me) to just ignore Ruth's resistance and push ahead, driving her out of her self-imposed safety shell and into the real world of true intimacy. The worst that could have happened was that our friendship ended – in other words, no change from the current reality.

The hour had grown late and my tossing and turning was keeping my wife from sleeping. I was still quite awake and fantasizing about what I'd have done then if I'd had knowledge of the future. I pondered over and over how, even if it were possible, changing the past would obliterate my present. I had no desire to lose my wife or family, and felt bad for even entertaining thoughts of "what if" and fantasies about an ex who wasn't even an ex! What had happened between Ruth and I was woven into the tapestry of who and what sort of man I was today. I wouldn't change that for a second.

Yet my mind persisted, wondering what might have been if I'd only realized that Ruth was scared of physical intimacy. She was afraid of losing me as a friend if we didn't carry our relationship further, and had told me as much when I confessed my feelings of love for her. Ruth had become dependent, almost addicted, to our special brand of friendship with benefits. Did she live in constant fear that I would one day stop being her friend and thus stop providing her with the shelter and convenience of a virtual relationship? Did she ever fully realize that I would have done anything for her, on any level, if only she could love me back in kind? I wondered.

.... There is more of this story ...

The source of this story is Storiesonline

For the rest of this story you need to be logged in: Log In or Register for a Free account