Fantasy/Reality

A fantasy can become a reality.

A reality is nothing more that a fantasy when thought of later.

He lays in his room on the cold hard cot, alone in the darkness, with nothing but the fleeting memories of a time long past. He is haunted by the memories of happier times. He tries hard to relive the smell of each location and the feel of each touch that he can see in his minds eye.

Faces float before him, some are sharper, happier and easy to see, but then some are more recent than others. With nothing better to do, he tries desperately to put names with the faces so that they seem more real. Where, oh where, does reality stop and fantasy begin?

He vaguely wonders if a fantasy can become a reality, what prevents a reality from becoming a fantasy. There isn't much else to occupy one's time so he ponders for a moment on the whys of the world. He then wonders if the memories of reality that he has was maybe once a just fantasy and accepts that the fantasy could now be a reality. This is where hope takes over.

He is just starting to drift off to sleep when he is aware that he isn't alone. He lies very still and listens. Although he hears nothing, he is acutely aware that someone is there. In quite wonderment he waits to see what will happen next. It never occurred to him to be afraid. Whoever is there is moving closer, he can hear the soft rustle of clothing and ever so faintly their breathing. He fakes sleep so as not to scare them away. His curiosity has now reached a fevered peak yet he waits, not in fear but in anticipation. He wonders if he will laugh later at his lack of fear, he knows that it is only the hope of pleasantries that keeps him still.

He shifts his weight in a long lethargic move giving him a better advantage just in case he needs to move fast. He waits to see what the reaction of his movement brings. His adrenalin is at an all time high. He listens intently and hears the sharp intake of breath yet they do not scurry away. Ever so slightly a tiny knot of fear starts to form in the pit of his stomach. He is so very, very venerable while he silently awaits whatever is to come.

He knows when they touch the blanket that covers him, even though there is no sound. Ever so gently he feels a hand reach under the cover, soft as a kiss from a butterfly, he feels the hand move across his body. His heart rate has increased, he fears that the person in the room with him will hear the beat of it for the sound is deafening in his ears. With the utmost control, he tries to still his heart and then it happens.

The hand that encompasses his manhood is so gentle that he is thankful he is awake or he would have missed it. Like a gallant warrior, with a mind of its own, his member takes command and rises to the occasion awaiting whatever will come next.

Slowly a tongue touches the base of his shaft and starts its lazy crawl toward the tip. Upon reaching the tip the tongue then circles the head of his penis before starting the slow slide down the underside. When it reaches the base of his shaft the tongue disappears but is quickly replaced with wet parted lips that begin suckling gently at his balls. As his balls reach an unbearable tightness from the thrill of it the lips disappear. It is nearly impossible to pretend sleep at this point. In spite of himself he moans aloud as he fights the urge to scream no. NO! DON'T GO AWAY, DON T STOP!

Faster than lightening the lips encompass the head of his shaft and the tongue is there lapping the pre-cum before trying to penetrate the slit in his shaft. From somewhere deep inside he resists the urge to shoot his load, for he wants to relish this moment lest it is never repeated. He wishes for this feeling to last forever yet he yearns for release, the pressure is almost unbearable.

He knows without thinking that he will relive this night in his minds eye thousands of times, until he at last will wonder if this is a fantasy that has become a reality or a reality that has been reduced to a fantasy.

At this point he does not care. Nor does he care who this person is that pleasures him so. They could be fat, ugly, friend or foe, it does not matter. They have transported him from the cold hard cot into the wonderful world of life at it's finest.

He is acutely aware of each flick of the tongue as the lips move up and down on him. He can no longer hold back the moans as he feels the cum begin it's journey racing toward it's release in a surging, explosive, gush. His muscles tense and release in his belly, in his shaft and in the throat that encompasses him. The throat vibrating with a giggle so soft it can not be heard while contracting with the swallow of each drop so that none is wasted.

Weak, wasted and spent he realizes that he is at his most venerable. He is too weak to move and too spent to utter another sound. Later he will sing "praise be to the Gods" for deeming him worthy of this wonderful night.

He is so thoroughly wasted that he is not aware that whoever performed the simple pleasure has now gone as though they were never there. Before he can wonder who this person is/was he falls into a deep sleep.

Reality or fantasy he cares not for he is sedated with the satisfaction of it.