Date: Sun, 24 Feb 2013 10:13:08 -0600 From: Luis Subject: What Dreams May Cum...: Chapter 2: The Things Inside My Head Disclaimer: The following document is a work of fiction in its entirety. None of the characters or situations described here, or in any possible sequels, are real. Furthermore, its actions take place in an alternate reality with no real consequences, unlike ours. Thus, the writer does not condone or advice anyone to re-enact or reproduce them. Finally, if you are not legally permitted to read the kind of material published in an adult literature website, you should know better than keep on reading. With that said, I hope you enjoy this story. Feedback is of the most advisable nature. If you send me any ideas you would like to see happen or stories you would like to see dropped, I'll take them into consideration for future chapters. Email me at niftyanswers@gmail.com! What dreams may cum... Part I: Therapy Sessions Chapter 2: The things inside my head Previously: Mickey has been having sexual dreams about his father Michael. After a long time in therapy with Doctor Greinsteen, none of the usual methods work. Seeing the despair Mickey was suffering, the doctor suggests beginning alternative treatments. Mickey, upon the doctor's orders, masturbates letting the thoughts about his father come over. However, what he fantasizes about isn't his dreams. He consciously imagines sex with his father and actually enjoys it. For his next session, he will have to provide the doctor with a masturbation journal. Mickey lay in bed in the middle of the night. Again, the obscure silence of the house haunted him. He had been trying to fall asleep for hours, but to no avail. Even when he had been trying to let his mind go this week, it was hard for him to go through this. He tried to embrace his feelings, his fantasies and his dreams. He was scared and nervous, now more than ever. Could he really be in love with his father more than he should? Days went by and it was almost time to go back to therapy. He had been keeping a journal of everything that he had been experiencing this week. He went further than Dr. Greinsteen instructed and recorded his thoughts, his feelings, his fantasies and his dreams. More and more, every day, he felt more relaxed, but also the constancy of his thoughts about his father grew. Eventually, the kid got sick of lying there with his eyes closed. He decided he would write in his journal. It had proven to help him get some ease. However, when his eyes opened, things felt different. It was almost as if life had changed. The way gravity worked had shifted and now everything was lighter. It was all made of air. His head spun, but Mickey liked the feeling. It was familiar. In this state of dream he always felt his entire worries move away. Suddenly all that was left was his libido. Although, even that, didn't belong to him; that, his father controlled. Today, it was one of those nights were it all started early. He woke up still in his room, but he was being carried off his bed by his father. Mickey laughed at the feelings the movement caused him. He closed his eyes and threw his head back. He felt his weight shift when he was deposited back onto a surface. It caused his eyes to open, and there was the familiar setting. It was a very strange place, but it felt usual. The surroundings were industrial: metal mesh walls, spare parts for some sorts of machines everywhere, smell of grease, and oil, and that scent that things were recently soldered there.... For some reason, the scenario made Mickey hard instantly. He already knew what was coming to him and what to expect. His father put him down on the floor and Mickey instinctively tried standing up, but fell as soon as he attempted to sit. He closed his eyes laughing. Everything spun around him. He simply lay there watching the purling on the ceiling. It was easier to let his intoxication take control of his brain. He stayed mouth agape and waiting. Soon, the smell of lube and latex filled his mouth. His father walked back and placed a mask over his face. He couldn't see anything anymore, but the last image he took in was his dad walking around, completely naked except for another mask exactly like the one he was putting on his son, with the exception that that one had holes for the eyes and mouth. A few seconds later, the usual feeling came over him. His father was inserting his penis up his asshole. Mickey moaned in pleasure and pain. His anus was sending shivers up his spine, but the size of the dick inside him hurt. Very soon, all of it had penetrated him. The kid barely had any time to breath before his dad started thrusting in and out. The rhythm of his thrusts was slow, but they were forceful. Mickey moved a quarter of an inch with each one. The sensation they caused him were too intense given his intoxicated state, and he couldn't do anything but lay there, moan like a bitch and enjoy them. It didn't take long for the pain to go away. At least in his dreams, the kid was fucked regularly, and so his ass was used to it. In all felt intensified by the darkness the mask brought down on him. Time felt different whenever Mickey was being fucked, but it always feels that way with dreams. He thought it had been about twenty minutes when he felt his dad's hairy body press down on him. The man was now lying on top of his son, getting quicker with the pace in which he was fucking him. It became harder to breath that way, but the cock was moving so fast now, that perhaps it was the reason for it. The teenager didn't mind, though. This was his favourite position for two reasons. First, the contact with his father took the experience to another level. The man's body rubbed against his skin with every thrust and it grazed his nipples in a way that incremented his pleasure. Also, with his sight gone, the rest of Mickey's senses were intensified, and smelling his father, sweaty and musky so close to him was a delight. Suddenly, Mickey moaned as his insides went empty. His dad had taken his cock out of his ass. Soon, though, Mickey was being raised off the ground, turned around and laid back down. Now, he could feel the wetness from his erection pressed against his stomach. The mats on the floor were warm and wet from the fucking going on on top of them. At least that, the boy was able to feel before his pussy was stretched again. This time, his father did so with such strength that Mickey let out a scream. He knew from experience that whenever this position was reached, his dad was close to cumming. He also know, getting his ass flooded would bring him to his edge, and that him cumming would in turn wake him from his dream. It felt like less than five minutes for all that to happen. Suddenly his dad let out a grunt and thrust as deep as he could into Mickey's ass. Then, about seven jets of thick, hot cum filled the kid, and it was just too much. As the last jet of cum spilled from the teen's cock onto the mat, therefore drenching his abs, Mickey felt a shift in gravity. A fraction of a second later he was lying in bed, completely drenched in sweat, sporting the hardest erection of his life and feeling disgusted and sick. He wiped the sweat on his face with the sheets, looked up at the alarm clock next to his bed and proceeded to write in the journal he had ready on his night table. "Tuesday, September 8th I had that dream again..."