Bedroom Closet

My dream was in some ways very sim­i­lar to A___’s in that I was in charge of her and there was another woman, dif­fer­ent in that there was also another man. As she men­tioned, we were with a cou­ple in a hot tub near a glass apart­ment. But that part came later.

It was a bit neb­u­lous in its devel­op­ment in my head, and like a lot of dreams, I remem­ber some of it from sleep­ing and some of it unfolded in my head as I was wak­ing up. It was also one of those rare, mag­nif­i­cent choose your own adven­ture dreams: you can steer and rejoin if some­thing hap­pens to inter­rupt it (the alarm). It was a nice one. I remem­ber when I woke up that I wanted to be inside A___, fuck­ing her slowly and telling her about my dream. That was as close as I could get her to being there with me (for now)

What I remem­ber most is that we were in an apart­ment that had a lot of win­dows, which in itself is really not sig­nif­i­cant. We were loung­ing on a couch drink­ing whiskey and look­ing out at the ocean. A scene that could very well be us, but as I think about it now, It was a couch we would never own in a space we could never afford, so per­haps this was some­one else’s place. Any­way. We weren’t alone: There were two sim­i­larly built peo­ple with us.

I remem­ber the act of con­vers­ing with­out remem­ber­ing the words. I could feel A___ close beside me and the fire from an ope­nen­ing where a win­dow should be warm­ing the breeze that blew in from the ocean to where we were. There were blan­kets casu­ally falling over our laps. The man and the woman were sit­ting with us on the couch. Close enough so that everyone’s legs and arms were touch­ing each other eas­ily. It was one of those small­ish sec­tional couches with an ottoman in the mid­dle to make it almost a bed on which the four of us relaxed. We were clothed and the actions weren’t sex­ual in nature at all. They were sim­ply inti­mate. But hands were begin­ning to move freely between every­one as we talked and laughed and sipped our whiskey and watched the sun set over the ocean.

The evening pro­gressed in this man­ner: As some­one would get up for water or refills of scotch or what­ever they would rejoin the couch in a dif­fer­ent posi­tion as every­one would move slightly to fill in gaps. If some­one was rub­bing a knee or stroking a thigh that moved, they sim­ply started the same thing on the knee or thigh of the per­son that took its place. Reclin­ing heads moved to dif­fer­ent shoul­ders and wan­der­ing hands moved to dif­fer­ent laps. I remem­ber too that it didn’t mat­ter who as con­ver­sa­tion was king: A___ was laugh­ing and rest­ing her head on my shoul­der while the man rubbed my thigh, then A___ and the other woman were cud­dling while her feet were in my lap and his hand was on A___’s stomach…

I remem­ber that con­ver­sa­tion went in waves, as con­ver­sa­tion will do, with highs and lulls. At first the lulls were the nat­ural lulls that hap­pen any­where. Lulls where every takes a sip of some­thing at once and thinks their own thoughts before things resume.

But as the light wore down and reflec­tions of flame started to appear things began to change. And it’s really not that things felt dif­fer­ent at all — sim­ply more intense. An evening of sit­ting and talk­ing and touch­ing and sip­ping whiskey had begun to sink in. Con­ver­sa­tion con­tin­ued as did the dance of hands and the chang­ing of places, but hands lin­gered longer and wan­dered fur­ther, rested heads on shoul­ders left lips closer to necks, breaths became deeper and eyes closed for longer. The lulls in con­ver­sa­tion grew until after a while there was no more.

Things hadn’t changed oth­er­wise, except that every­one seemed poised to melt into each other at any moment. Hands moved, but aside from the rus­tle of cloth, there was no notice­able sound.

A moan became the tip­ping point: After a while there was an intake of breath from some­one… and it wouldn’t have mat­tered who even if I remem­ber. Every­one stopped breath­ing until there was a sound of repressed release and all of a sud­den hands that lin­gered along hem lines dis­ap­peared, lips that hov­ered over ears and necks landed, and things erupted in a melt­ing of pent up long­ing. A days worth of touch­ing came to a head in an almost vio­lent mash of touch­ing and kiss­ing and hands roam­ing where hands could reach. Every­one was breath­ing really heav­ily in between kisses and it didn’t mat­ter who was doing what to whom, as long as every­one was get­ting some sort of begin­ning to a release.

I remem­ber that we would move around our couch-as-bed in waves, gang­ing up on A____ long enough to col­lec­tively remove an arti­cle of cloth­ing, then drag her with us as we relieved some­one else from their pants. On and on it went until we were all some­what naked and at a point where some­thing else had to happen.

“We should move”

The ten­sion that was build­ing broke.

“You guys wanna use the hot tub… It’s cold out but would feel good.”

Ok…

(there will be more soon)

This entry was posted on Thursday, October 18th, 2007 at 3:57 pm and is filed under sex. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.