The doll house

"Oh golly," Nora replied, feeling rather distressed by such a thought, but actually really wanting to do it. She took a firm grip and slowly slid her fist up and down the shaft. She was now as amazed as Milton, as she was actually masturbating a man's cock, and it wasn't just any cock, it was the cock of her owner. Not too many dolls get that opportunity! She was feeling very special indeed. Maybe she would actually want all of the other dolls to know. They would be so jealous.

Of course, that did assume one point. She tentatively, nervously asked, as her little feminine Victorian fingers continued to gently stroke his shaft. "Have any of the other dolls done this, for you?"

"No, no, absolutely not," Milton reassured her, quite sincerely. "None of them."

Nora didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. Her big smile spoke a thousand words. She was feeling very special indeed. She stroked him with a bit more urgency and vigor. She figured he would like that.

Milton considered suggesting that she put her mouth on it, but he felt that would be going much too far. It could in fact be so shocking that it might turn her off entirely. In any case, he was hardly complaining. He could feel himself getting pretty close to cumming. The first time for any guy being jerked off by a girl is going to be awfully intense, and that was an understatement in the case of Milton, as he was long, long overdue. "Yes, that's good," he gasped, "that's really, really good, Nora."

Nora giggled as she accelerated the rate of her stroking to yet another level. If the woman across the street looked now she would readily identify what was going on, as the motions of Nora's shoulder and arm, and the direction of her eyes, were rather telling.

Milton's breathing became a bit rushed, a bit labored. He was now extremely close, and he kept begging to not wake up. How cruel would it be for this dream to end now?!

He had dreams like this when he was much younger, and the first few times he didn't wake up, or at least not too early. Well, maybe too late, depending upon one's perspective. He loved waking up still in the throes of his orgasm and his dream, his dick shooting off in real life while it was doing so in his dream state. It made the dream all the more real and so deeply satisfying. No orgasms he would subsequently experience were ever any better than his wet dreams.

But, when he did fully awaken he would be stricken by the fact that his pajama bottoms and the sheets, were soaked with his thick sticky cum, and this proved, of course, to be very, very embarrassing. The first time it happened he thought he had wet his bed. It was so, so humiliating to have to tell his mother about that, and his heart sank even further when she came to his bedroom, with him, to see for herself, only to announce that it wasn't a case of enuresis. It was his cum, not only witnessed by his mother but she would have to clean it up. He was mortified.

He began to wear underwear with a rag inside, beneath his pajama bottoms. He couldn't imagine having to explain this problem again to his mother. So, whenever he had another accident he would have to somehow wash and dry his underwear and pajama bottoms himself.

Despite the potential mortification of having his mother discover his problem, Milton did though enjoy the dreams immensely. A dream can be so real, so engrossing. Where else can one really experience flying; where else can one experience having sex, at least for Milton.

But, as he got older he would invariably wake up before he came, and then he longed for the problem of how to clean his underwear and pajamas to return. He would groan with disappointment as he found himself awake, just prior to orgasm, entirely unsatisfied, his balls aching. It was like the women in his dreams were just purposely teasing him up to the final second, and then disappearing.

He would sometimes try to fall back asleep quickly enough so that he could reenter the dream. That was really never successful. So, he would usually just masturbate to the dream, finishing the dream off with a truly happy ending. But, it just wasn't the same.

So, he didn't really expect to stay asleep now, but he could hope, he could imagine, he could dream.

"Oh gosh," he suddenly exclaimed, as he felt that sense of intense inevitability. "Nora," he gasped, in a sort of warning, as his cock twitched and a sudden rush of cum gushed forth from the tip, shooting straight up in the air, much to the surprise and shock of Nora.

"Milton!" Nora loudly exclaimed, with worry and wonder. She considered letting go and quickly extricating herself from the line of fire, as that first blast went up so pretty darned high, seeming to head straight for her face. She momentarily backed her face away, but the gunk fell harmlessly back into his lap.

Still, as he continued to gush, squirt, and spray globs and spurts of cum, some of it falling onto his shirt, a good deal of it was getting all over Nora's lovely, expensive, and truly fine Victorian dress. "Oh my goodness, Miltie," she again exclaimed, both out of concern with the mess he was making, as well being impressed at how much was exploding out of his hard twitching penis.

Milton though could care less. He could always buy her another dress. Heck, he already had a number of replacement dresses for lots of his dolls. Plus, it was really part of the fun to be cumming all over a pure, shy, virginal Victorian girl. This was an experience he would never imagine ever having, and he felt so blessed to have such an intense and gratifying imagination.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Milton awoke to find himself lying in bed. He quickly felt down at his crotch. It was dry. He felt all around the sheet. It was all dry. He had cum in his dream but not in real life? How strange was that. But, still, it was a nice dream. Clearly the best dream he had in years, and at no cost. He didn't even feel like he needed to cum.

He then realized that he had no memory of going to bed, or anything that had happened that evening. What was the last thing he remembered? He thought about it for a while, and then recalled having had the tea. How very strange.

He thought of the dream quite a bit that day. It was certainly easy to think about it while at work, his cock swelling as he recalled each enjoyable little detail. It had been so vivid, so real, and so, so satisfying.

Many a time that day he was interrupted by Mr. Limbergh, lost within a deep daydream, thinking back on his night dream, his dick swelling with each remembrance.

Mr. Limbergh, however, was naturally very annoyed, to say the least, as he apparently really needed the TPS reports, like an hour ago. Milton clearly wasn't himself that day or, Mr. Limbergh felt that Milton's true self was once again evident. "Don't drop the ball on this, Widdams. You need to give 110% if you're going move up the food chain. This is mission critical, Widdams, don't you forget that."

The TPS reports were mission critical? Milton shook his head as Mr. Limbergh departed.

He did though eventually get them done, but did not, of course, receive any praise or thanks for doing so. Instead, Mr. Limbergh just took the opportunity to chastise him further. "We need team players here at Natech, Widdams, don't you forget that. You need to step up to the plate and hit one out of here. Don't drop the ball."

"Yes sir, Mr. Limbergh. I'll work harder." How many times had he made that promise!

As soon as Milton returned home early evening he visited his little doll town. As he promised to Nora, he did change the home in front of her house. He considered replacing the trailer home with the southern plantation. That would bring up the value of that section of the neighborhood, but he wondered if that might just incur some jealousy on Nora's part.

However, he then chuckled over the fact that he was even considering such a concern, as if the dream had been real. Nevertheless, he opted for the country cottage. It was not an expensive home, but it was quaint, well kept, pleasant to the eye, and yet would not be at all threatening to Nora. And, well, he felt it looked pretty good; a much better fit aesthetically for the Victorian home than a house trailer. He convinced himself that this was the primary reason he made the switch.

He also changed Nora's dress, putting her in a very expensive Victorian gown, complete with rather exotic panties. Yes, she wasn't real, but it was a nice sentimental gesture.

Of course, he took the opportunity to consider her naked body. It was rather disappointing that toy companies did not make anatomically correct dolls (he did have one such Japanese doll, but it wasn't purchased from a toy company). He wondered whether Nora would have been anatomically correct if, in his dream, she had taken off her clothes. He felt if she had been anatomically correct that would have confirmed that he was dreaming, as if there was any doubt.

Why he was even having such thoughts was unclear to him. Of course there was no doubt. Frankly, the fact that she had no Victorian dialect made it clear that he was dreaming. He was unfamiliar with Victorian English and therefore could not mimic it in his dream. That would not have been a deterrent to Nora, if she had been real. But, he then shook his head at the fact that he was continuing to debate the point.

The next day, at work, he had such difficulty not drifting off to the world of his dolls. It was all he could think about. It had just been so real, so vivid. He had never before had such a dream, and he wasn't just speaking of the sex. It was the fact that he had full consciousness during the dream, fully aware of the fact that he was there, that he was dreaming, that he could direct his thoughts during the dream as he was doing now, in real life. His sense of consciousness now was essentially no different than it had been during the dream. It was just so strange.

He tried talking to persons at work about it, but they never really listened to him. They had no interest in speaking to him. To them, he was just some sort of buffoon, some weirdly eccentric, inadequate, and absurd screwball, nobody to take seriously, to ever really care about or consider. They just gave him a funny look and carried on with their own conversations. His story just confirmed for them that he was indeed a freak. He drifted away, to the safety and security of his cubicle, and equally private thoughts.

He was most definitely disappointed that he had not returned to Nora's home over the next few nights. Or course, it might have been because he masturbated each of the next few nights, thinking about it, recalling it, anticipating it. Perhaps the problem was that he was not going to sleep with sufficient sexual frustration. It was clear during adolescence that the likelihood of a sex dream increased substantially the more sexually frustrated he was.

But, even denying himself an orgasm over a three day period did nothing. He did have dreams with fleeting sexual imagery, but it was just the usual stuff. He would dream that he had a girlfriend, and was struggling over whether to touch her breast. Or, he would dream that he was on a date and was wondering if he should kiss the girl. In every scenario, once he initiated contact he would wake up before anything really happened.

His evenings became restless, having difficulty now falling asleep, much to the further annoyance of Mr. Limbergh the next day, as he would be nodding off within his cubicle, so tired from such a long and restless night, so much wanting to drift off into sleep, to leave this dreary job for the wondrous life of his doll house.

He decided, finally, to have another cup of tea, mostly in an effort to help get a good night's sleep, but also wondering if the tea had something to do with his dream, beyond simply helping him sleep.

He drank the tea in bed, as he was comfortably ensconced between the sheets, feeling all comfy and cozy, as Nora had said.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Uerukamu sensei!"

"What?"

"So sorry, sir, my English, not so good. Would you care for bath?"

Milton was inside a Japanese bungalow, more specifically the bath room of a Japanese home. Standing before him, or actually bowing before him, was a very pretty and petite Japanese woman, dressed in a traditional and very colorful kimono. It was bright red with rose, white, and pink cherry blossoms, gold trim, and a large gold sash. On her feet she wore white split-toe socks within wooden flip-flops.

Milton still hadn't processed what she had said, being so distracted by suddenly finding himself in an entirely new and foreign location, albeit still dressed in the pajamas that he had worn to bed.

The young lady smiled at his confusion and uncertainty, recognizing that he must be a bit shy, perhaps not experienced with Japanese customs. "Dono, nanitozo, please, make bath for you?"

"What? Oh! Um, yes, yeah, um...sure." He finally recognized the room. He was in the bathroom of his little Japanese bungalow. He really liked that home, particularly the garden in front. That had been particularly difficult to build, and was one of only a few homes that in fact had anything in the front yard, other than a fake yard. He looked behind him to see if it was there. It was. It was really quite lovely looking, so peaceful, with Nikaki trees, a little pavilion, a stone lantern, and stepping stones across a koi pond. Someone had even turned it on, or perhaps he had left it on, as the fountain within the pond was running. He wondered if there might in fact be live koi within the pond. He had always imagined just sitting there, peacefully, enjoying the relaxing sights and sounds of running water. Japanese gardens are so nice.

The girl began to undo his pajama top.

He quickly looked back at her. "Oh, um, yes, well, I can do that." He reached for his pajama top. It seemed a bit odd for her to be undoing it for him.

"No, no, sir," she cheerfully responded, "this my job. No problem."

Milton now recognized her as well. It was his little geisha doll, Rio Hamisaki. Well, actually, she wasn't so little right now. She was certainly quite short, not even five feet, but still awfully big for a doll. And, she smelled so nice. His nostrils breathed in deeply the scent of her flowery perfume.

She smiled adorably at him as she undid the buttons. "You work so hard. You need to relax in your garden, sir. I give you nice hot bath and then you relax in garden. I bring you tea."

The tea, that's right! He had drank another cup, or actually mug, of tea. It must be the tea that's causing these dreams. It must have some sort of strange hallucinogenic powers. But, how could they in fact sell such tea legally? Well, actually, there are quite a few natural hallucinogenic herbs, flowers, fungi, and other natural products that slip through the FDA.

He smiled at her, and asked, "Do you know who I am?"

The young lady giggled shyly, "Well, of course, sensei. You are master of our houses, Master Widdams sensai."

Milton chuckled modestly. He was hardly a master, or whatever that word sensei meant. He didn't really know for sure. He only knew a few words in Japanese and, he was embarrassed to admit, that was largely from watching Hollywood movies, television shows, and, well, he would never admit out loud, a bit of Japanese porn. He hadn't even ever eaten at a Japanese restaurant.

But, he did have a soft spot for Japanese women, and she was also very, very pretty. He found Japanese women to seem, on average, so much more youthful, innocent, and pure than his perception of western women. They lacked the tough, assertive, and aggressive manner that he so often experienced with women at work, even the secretaries and assistants. He felt intimidated by the women at work. He found the mannerisms of Japanese women to be considerably more modest and deferential.

Once the buttons were all undone Rio helped him get his arms through the sleeves, and then helped him pull off his white undershirt over his head.

Milton quickly fixed his hair once his t-shirt was pulled off, and then stood there awkwardly as she slipped her fingers into the waistband of his pajama bottoms, sucking in his stomach as much as he could, even trying to clench his chest muscles. For the last five years he has been vowing to develop a regular, healthy exercise program, building up his chest and abdomen muscles, decreasing that extra tire around his waist, but one thing or another always came up. He had started dieting and exercising a number of times. He even owned a rowing machine. But, his effort never lasted more than a few weeks. Well, he certainly regretted that right now. He hoped Rio would not notice how much fat he had around his stomach.

Rio squatted down in front of him and yanked his pajama bottoms down to his ankles..

Milton looked down at her and from this angle he could see how her kimono jutted out so far from her chest. Yes, Rio Hamisaki was a pretty doll with very, very big breasts.

Milton had at times wondered what it would be like to have a girl provide him, in real life, a massage. He considered going to a massage parlor and having a professional massage, but he feared getting an erection. How can a guy get a massage from a pretty girl, with jutting boobs, and not get an erection as she rubbed his chest and thighs with warm slick oil? He wondered how they dealt with this at a massage parlor.

Milton seriously doubted that he would be successful in controlling himself while a pretty big boobed geisha girl like Rio gave him a bath.

But, she wasn't really going to do that, was she? She was apparently just helping him get ready for a bath. She would leave once he was undressed. Although, he was struck by the fact that she did feel the need to undress him. Does this really happen at Japanese bath houses? How weird is that!

Of course, more to the point Milton thought, was why he should feel embarrassed being in naked in front of one of his own dolls, dream or no dream. These were his dolls. He was in charge, and they weren't really real. Still, it was good news that his nervous embarrassment was quickly dissipating his budding erection.

Rio removed his feet from his pajama bottoms, and then carefully folded and laid it atop his equally well folded pajama top and t-shirt. She reached up for the waistband of his briefs and pulled them all the way down to his ankles.

He stepped out of them, feeling a little foolish to be undressed by a woman, like a boy being undressed by his mother. He was terribly glad that his briefs were reasonably clean.

Rio folded his briefs three times and laid them respectfully upon his pajamas.

Of course, whatever Milton should feel, either because this was a dream or because she was his doll, didn't really matter, as what he did in fact feel was indeed embarrassment as he stood there, entirely naked, while Rio remained clothed within her kimono.

There is little more that can make a guy feel self-conscious, particularly a guy like Milton Widdams, is to be entirely naked in front of a pretty clothed girl. He was clearly at a very awkward disadvantage. Never before had he felt more uncertain, more uncomfortable, within his own skin, within his own body. He vowed to start his exercise and diet program the next day, dream or no dream.

Rio reached for the shower hose, turned on the water, and tested it, waiting until it was a comfortable temperature.

Well, apparently she wasn't going to leave the room? Do women really bathe men at a Japanese bathhouse?

Rio thoroughly wetted him down with a strong spray of relaxing, hot water.

"Temperature okay, sensai?"

"Yes, yes, that's nice," he replied. This really was a little weird. The last time he was bathed by someone else it had been by his mother, and that was many, many years ago. In fact, he couldn't even really remember it being done, but clearly it had to have been true. Somehow he felt this was going to be considerably different.