Date: Thu, 2 Sep 2010 23:38:53 +0100 From: Jim Smith Subject: The Dreamer 2 This is the second part of The Dreamer story, I pushed the boat out on the title and called it The Dreamer 2. Please read the first one first (ummm) it'll make more sense. Legal stuff is self-explanatory, I won't patronise you with the ins and outs. All rights reserved, if you attempt to reproduce this story I'll be surprised then cross in that order. Remarks (if you can be bothered) to quiller688@hotmail.co.uk It had been difficult, he'd seen both of his friends during the day, it was sad in one way but delicious in another, he had inside knowledge, he knew something about them, especially Craig and it was his secret alone. If Craig picked up on his mood or demeanour, he didn't say. Cameron was well used to covering for himself although recently, he'd become more fatalistic about it. It occurred to him that he could get away with much more because people really weren't interested in what he said or did. Later on in the evening he showered and got ready for bed, it was the end of the school week so tomorrow promised a long lie in, he wondered if he'd have another one of those dreams, they were rare occurrences, but maybe? Perhaps he could prime his subconscious to produce a similar dream, he had an active imagination but nothing really compared to the feelings in a dream, or at least nothing excluding the real thing and even he accepted that at fourteen; it wasn't exactly on the horizon. The television was boring and the video games were all played out so he pulled the summer sheets up to his neck and lay staring at the posters opposite his bed until his eye lids became heavy. Before sleep took him, he turned his bedside lamp off. The night was warm, only a hint of breeze blew through the open window; the air was turgid and cloying. The posters on the walls rustled gently and the faint jangling of a wind ornament in the garden was the only noise. His face was calm, in his sleep he'd turned the pillow over like so many, preferring the cool side against his cheek. He sighed deeply, and stretched languorously, toes and hands pointing to the bottom of the bed, his eyes moved to and fro beneath closed eyelids. This wasn't a morning dream with the mind moving up from sleep in to wakefulness, this was a night time dream, his mind was moving down across the narrow margin of REM sleep where the sub-conscious and conscious mingled playfully. Like a small child trying hard to keep the front wheel of his pushbike on the white line in the road, weaving to this side for waking or to the other side for sleep. When the wheel stayed on the white line, his two minds could connive to produce dreams of a tantalising nature. Nighttime dreams are usually more lucid, the mind is set up for going down into sleep, in the morning, it's aiming for wakefulness. Nighttime is the best time to dream and this boy was dreaming. He curled into the foetal position turning his head up to face the ceiling; his hands were clutched against his chest under his chin. Slowly he turned, straightening out to lie on his stomach; the duvet was tangled up in his legs, he sighed again as the... ...Standing on a beach, it was warm with only a slight breeze he could feel against his skin. Only one person was in site, he thought he recognised his friend from school today, he was running toward him but not getting any closer. Smiling, he raised a bare arm to wave, looking down he realised he wasn't wearing any clothes. The scenery went into a schism, beach blurring, sea rolling back; his conscious mind was trying to exert control; he wasn't confident enough to be naked in front of his friend, no way! Things settled, his friend was close now, the beach had returned, he could smell the salt from the sea and the sweeter aroma of the trees and something else he couldn't identify. He was also relieved to feel clothes against his skin, he looked over at the other boy, he liked him, liked him a lot more than he should if truth be told. Normally this was something he kept well buried, no one could know, but here; it seemed ok, it didn't seem to matter. He stepped a little closer... ...Duvet slipped further down his back, the breeze from the open window caressed his skin and a wave of Goosebumps appeared across his shoulder blades, the air was warm though; it wasn't causing the Goosebumps. Gently he pressed his hips into the bed, his hands delved under and into his shorts so he could free up his tumescence, as he pressed again with his hips, concavities appeared on each buttock, the light material of the grey shorts he wore matched every contour of the body part they covered. Another gentle thrust with his hips while... ...Standing almost toe-to-toe, he looked into his friend's eyes, he decided it was the eyelashes that did it for him, they were so long and the sensual lips, they just seemed so soft, if only he could touch them... Something didn't seem right, the clothes he felt against his body, they weren't his, he was still unclothed, he was excited and terrified at the same time, then he heard Cameron say: "It's fine, don't worry." Craig looked up into his friend's eyes and smiled shyly, he tried to speak but couldn't find the words, in his dream he was either unable or he really didn't know what to say. He felt a light touch against the bare... ...Another sigh escaped from his body, Craig ground his slim hips slowly against the bed, a whimper escaped from him that ended in a long sigh. In all the pushing and thrusting, his shorts had begun to ride down; the very top of two smooth dusky skinned buttocks could be seen... ...Skin above his hipbone, he hadn't the words to explain how it felt; a feathery electrical charge underlined with a gentle yet exhilarating tickling. Fingertips travelled over his torso and up across his adolescent chest from one taught nipple to the other, Craig let this dream-Cameron have the run of his body, he just stood with closed eyes and let it wash over him for the moment. He felt warm breathe against his lips, he parted them slightly and waited for... ...A faint jangling, rustling of posters, a ray of sodium light carved through the dark bedroom and splashed across the skin of Craig's lower back, his shorts even lower now unveiling more smooth unblemished skin, he was still now, his mind taking his body past the dream state and into sleep. A gentle sigh, one more gyration of those most slender and narrow... ...Cameron's lips to touch... Contact! He'd never even kissed a girl, how could he know what it felt like, how could he know it felt this perfect. Velvety, soft, warm, moist, his mind extrapolated as best it could and since his imagination was no slouch it did an excellent job. He reached out with his own hands, he could feel Cameron's sex pressing against his own as he drew the boy's hips closer, he began to push the trousers down, as he did so; he felt a tingle begin to grow deep in his abdomen. Craig broke the kiss off and tried to look down as Cameron's boyhood came into the open but the tingling was now strident, causing the dream to lose its lucidity. As he curled his fingers around Cameron's fourteen years of development, it felt slender, yet long, smooth, yet hard. He felt the palm of Cameron's hand on his own hardness, the fingers below gently massaged his testicles until his scrotum began to tighten. The dream was all about touch and smell now and in no small measure atmosphere, to Craig it felt very real. He could feel Cameron's body pressing against his own, his chest, thighs and flat stomach, even their foreheads touched gently, the boy's presence filled his mind... ...Thighs and all movement stopped for a moment. Gently but speedily, the boy's body tensed and a gasp escaped the his lips, his eyes opened slightly then closed, he pressed his hips once more against the bed then let his hands burrow back into the front of the shorts he wore. He was almost awake but the dream still held something for him, it would not let him go until it was done. A sharp intake of breath, the duvet fell to the floor as Craig turned on to his back and frantically pushed at the front of his shorts, even although he was just surfacing from the midst of what he knew was the best dream he would be able to recall for some time and although this had never happened, he knew that to avoid awkward questions, he really needed to take his cock out of his shorts to avoid making a mess that might be detected. Scrabbling frantically eyes half closed with sleep, the sensation building at the base of his penis was spreading to encompass his entire groin, suddenly he panicked and wondered if he actually needed to pee... Groggily he ruled it out... His abdomen had now tightened and his buttocks had begun to tense in that rhythmic way they do, he managed to jam fingers from each hand under the waistband of the shorts and slide them down his hips, his cock caught momentarily in the elastic then slapped back against his flat torso, he was well past the point of no return and knew it. No sooner had he steadied his body against the bed with one hand and his penis with the other, he erupted like never before, the feeling was immense waves of pleasure pulsed up and out, it had never felt like this, his entire body was tensed yet writhing at the same time. His legs, bent at the knee and unable to spread any further than the waistband of the shorts held at mid thigh would allow, his arms tensed to steady a body which seemed for the moment to have a life of its own and his midriff, the muscles of his abdomen stood out like never before, sinews stood out under the dusky skin of his shoulders and chest... All the while he could feel the warm wet streams of semen and sperm land against his stomach and chest, he held his throbbing pulsing penis with a finger and thumb until the spate subsided. Slowly he began to relax, muscle-by-muscle, he lay back against the cool sheets and wondered; if that was the dream, what about the reality? He thought about cleaning up but decided to just lie for the moment and imagine it wasn't just his love that coated the smooth expanse of his adolescent torso. An arc of sepia from the streetlight slashed through the dark bedroom, the bar of yellowed light only a few inches wide made contact with the floor just short of the bed, it travelled over a pair of trainers, then up the side of the bed were it cast its jade glow over rumpled summer sheets, further now to a bare thigh then up across a perfectly balanced plump scrotum and the base of a slowly shrinking penis, wispy brown pubic hair, barely seen in the poor light then, a slender thread that glistened between hair and skin like filigree even in this tainted light, onwards up to a belly button adorned with several healthy streaks of milky, watery whiteness, all glistening in the night time light. Breathing gently now, Cameron had no idea why he'd awoke, an imperative had taken over and he'd felt the strongest urge, he didn't know why and really; did a boy need an excuse? But still, this time felt different in a way he couldn't quite identify. He thought he'd lie for a bit and bask in the imagined yet surprisingly vivid memory of his friend Craig before cleaning up; it seemed like the right thing to do.