tagGay MaleMan of My Dreams

Man of My Dreams


He was there again.

The man of my dreams.

Or, to be totally accurate, the man in my dreams.

On an off for over 5 years I'd seen him. He was tall, around 6' 2" as far as I could tell, broad shouldered and muscular with a slim waist and strong legs. Lightly tanned skin and dark brown, shoulder length hair and bright, almost piercing blue eyes.

It was usually either at some sort of party, or in some other crowded place, and I'd see him across the room, stare at him, long for him.

I never saw him for long though, it was always a fleeting glimpse and then I'd try to follow him and find myself somewhere dark and quiet. I'd be lost, alone and afraid until I felt his hand on my back. God knows how I knew it was him, that's dreams for you.

He'd gently but firmly run his hand slowly up my spine until he reached the nape of my neck, his other hand would then flatten itself against my stomach and begin it's slow slid down to my groin, his lips would be playing with my ear and just as the hand in front was about to make delicious contact, I'd wake. Trembling from the ghost of his touch and the fire in his eyes and as hard as rock. This, frankly, was disconcerting. Straight guys shouldn't have dreams like that.

With my last girlfriend I'd tried to forget the cause of the hard-on, and make use of it, and that worked fine until she asked me what is was that got me so hard in the middle of the night. In my defence, I was barely awake, seriously horny, and not entirely sure if I was still dreaming or not, so I told her the truth.

From the way she stormed out it was clear I should have said I was dreaming of her.

I wasn't really sorry to see her go if I was honest with myself. We were never really in love. It would have helped my life afterwards though if she hadn't told all her friends, and this being a small town, they were also my friends, that I got hard by thinking of guys. This made meeting another girl difficult to say the least. And I had one or two surprising offers from guys I'd been at school with. That was 2 years ago. I got used to being by myself.


The dreams were getting more frequent, I was sure. It was almost every night now, where it used to be once every few weeks when they started. They were getting stronger too, more detailed.

Tonight he was kissing me, teeth and lips and tongue. His mouth dropped to the hollow of my neck, sucking, licking, biting. My breath coming in ragged gasps. I could feel the heat of him, pressing me against a wall, his hands running under my shirt, through the hair on my chest, thumbs grazing across my nipples then fingers pinching them lightly. The warm air from his breath dropping lower as he began to unbuckle my belt, he pushed my jeans down over my hips, taking my boxers with them, a hand gently cupping my balls, squeezing, and then moist heat engulfing me.

I didn't wake up hard this time. I woke up crying out as I came. A good job my neighbours are old and deaf.

Once I got my breath back I looked at the alarm clock, noticing it was only 20 minutes before I'd normally be getting up and decided I might as well get up and shower. I chucked the sheets in the hamper on the way to the bathroom, got the shower running and as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, I wondered if I was losing my mind.

To look at I was apparently OK, not model good looking, but not ugly enough to frighten the horses. At 34 years old, just a shade over 6' and fairly well muscled from regular stints chopping wood for the elderly neighbours and a few others, and helping my cousin with her landscaping business, when I wasn't under a car at my garage, and swimming when ever I could. Longish, dirty-blond hair, lightly tanned skin, again thanks to cousin Emmas business, and brown eyes completed the picture. All in all, I didn't think I looked like a lunatic.

A brief thought that you can't tell by looking, crossed my mind as I stepped into the shower and rinsed the sweat and cum from my body, hoping to rinse the images away too.


I was under my latest project at the garage, putting in a new exhaust, when I heard the footsteps.

"Hello? Anyone here?" called a voice

"How can I help?" I asked. A pair of boots stepped up next to the inspection pit, and the jeans shifted as he bent down to try and look at me, though the inspection light was in his way. I couldn't tell who it was because of the light and as he was in silhouette against the open door.

" I'm looking for a Mr David Bedson, do you know where I can find him?"

" You've found him," I said "What can I do for you?"

"Oh! Er, sorry. I wasn't expecting you to be under there. The office said you were here taking a break."

"I take it by 'the office' you mean the publisher?" I asked, irritated. He nodded. "I told them a year ago I was done with them, done with writing, done with the whole damn business." By this time, I realised I was shouting at the guy. I sighed, what was that about not being a lunatic?

"Look." I said, in a calmer tone. "I just can't do it any more. I've nothing left to write about. Seven books I wrote, 3 more than I wanted to, and don't get me wrong, the money I earned has allowed me to live the way I like without having to worry, but I'm burnt out as a writer. I've nothing left. I'm spent."

"Um, they didn't tell me anything about that. I'm just here to get you to sign the paperwork about the new royalties arrangement you decided on."

"Oh. I see. Sorry." Now I felt like a complete idiot for yelling. "I thought that was all sorted out with the lawyers."

"Yes, but you still need to sign the paperwork."

"Right. Yeah. OK, let me get out from under here and we can go over to the house."

I climbed from the inspection pit, and crossed to the sink, scrubbed my hands with the evil smelling gunk I used to get rid of the worst of the grease and turned to the guy from the publisher.

"Follow me." I said.

"Shit!!" he gasped, stumbling backwards against the wall. As he fell, he crossed away from the door, and I could see him clearly for the first time.

"Fucking Hell!" I cried. "How... You....who...what the hell is going on?" Not, it must be said, my most eloquent moment, but seeing a dream made flesh is a bit of a shock to the system.

"Y-You're real." He stammered, standing upright again, half a question, half almost an accusation.

I just stared at him. A full minute must have passed before I could form a rational thought.

"I need a drink. You?"

"Yeah, a very, very large one." He answered.

We walked quickly to the house, and into the living room, where I poured two stiff whiskies, handed one to him and downed my own in one go.

"Another?" I asked, pouring again for myself.

"No thanks, I hate whisky." He replied, putting his empty glass next to the bottle.

"Yeah, I can tell." I said with a smirk.

I turned then, to look at him properly for the first time. He was exactly as he'd been in my dreams, except the expression of complete bewilderment was new.

"OK. Does this mean I really am going nuts?" I asked him, hoping that he would have the answers, though why he would I couldn't imagine.

"Well," he said, apparently recovering better from the shock than I was. "If you mean you've just found yourself facing someone that shouldn't exist, a figment of your own imagination, then I'd have to say if you're nuts, then so am I."

"So... I take it you,.... er,..... have the..... um, dreams too?" I asked, with a small nervous smile.

"Yeah." He said quietly. "Are yours, um, quite, erm........" He trailed off.

"Charged?" I asked

"Yeah. Hot, even."

"Do you want me to tell you about the one I woke from this morning?"

"Hell, you had one this morning too?" He paused, then appeared to come to some sort of decision. "Did I er... blow you?"

"Yeah, and we haven't even been introduced." He smiled at that and held out his hand.

"James. James Wilson. My friends call me Jim. And I guess if you're dreams are the same as mine, we could definitely be considered friends."

"I guess. I'm Davey." As we shook hands I guess I was expecting some sort of electric shock, or something like that. What I wasn't expecting was to suddenly realise I was getting hard, just from touching him. I quickly released his hand, coughing to cover my embarrassment as I tried to adjust my jeans to cover up my erection.

I glanced at him, he was staring at my hard on. My eyes travelled down and I realised he was as hard as I was. I swallowed, looking back at his face he was looking at me intently, and again he seemed to make a decision. He took the final pace to close the gap between us, grabbed my face in his hands and kissed me. A single, strong yet soft kiss, a brief moment of our lips touching and he pulled away, looking into my eyes as I looked into his. Rational thought fled.

This time I closed the gap. I kissed him back, running my tongue along the line of his lips. His mouth opened and our tongues met. He pulled my t-shirt out of my jeans, his hands running under the fabric, through the hair on my chest, his mouth moving to the hollow of my neck, sucking and biting my collar bone as his thumb circled my right nipple.

I pulled away from him, gasping for breath, for a moment he looked uncertain, until I pulled my shirt off over my head and stepped into him, pulling his shirt out, tearing at the buttons and pushing it back off his shoulders.

The feel of his naked chest against mine, with his light dusting of dark hair, was wonderful. I bent and licked one of his nipples. He gasped at that, so I licked it some more, then lightly nibbled the hardening nub, causing him to groan. His thigh was between my legs, and we were both grinding our hips into each other. I pulled away again. This time he didn't look confused, he looked disappointed. I smiled slightly and said in a suddenly husky tone I don't think I'd ever used before, "Bedroom", pulling him by the hand to follow me up the stairs.

Suddenly I was glad I'd changed the sheets. I stopped at the foot of the bed and turned towards him, his hand gently stroked the side of my face, cupping my jaw and running his thumb over my bottom lip.

I put my hand to the nape of his neck, pulling him into to the kiss deeper, my tongue caressing his, his tongue fighting with mine then his mouth moved to my throat, sucking, licking and biting. My bare skin burned at the feel of his, my erection straining to be free, to be touched by him.

He seemed to read my mind and his hands went to my belt, fumbling slightly with the buckle, then the button and zip.

I groaned as his hand snaked down and firmly grasped hold of me, stroking as best he could in the confines of my jeans. I know I was making incoherent sounds, unable to form real words any more, totally lost in the sensations he was giving me.

"Davey?" Called a voice from downstairs.

Jim pulled away as though I'd scalded him, he looked suddenly lost, almost bereft, and I realised he would think the woman in my house was a wife or girlfriend. There was no way I was going to let him think that, he might run.

"Shit! That's my cousin, probably wondering why the garage is empty."

"Cousin? Not your wife?" He asked, unsure if I was telling the truth.

"Not married Jim, and I've not got a girlfriend either. And before you ask, no boyfriend." I gave him a quick smouldering kiss, and attempted to make myself vaguely presentable to see Emma.

"Hey Em. What's up?" I asked as I came down the stairs. I'm sure my tone wasn't quite as light as I'd intended.

"Pete dropped in and said he'd driven past a few minutes ago and seen you being hustled into the house by some guy." She was clearly rethinking what she said as she was saying it as she noticed I was both half dressed and somewhat flustered.

" I'm fine Em, something very important came up, that's all." She cocked an eyebrow in reply, as her gaze fell to my collarbone I realised Jim must have left a mark.

"What's going on Davey?" She asked gently.

"Nothing. What do you mean?"

"I mean nothing short of near starvation can usually get you out from under a new project, yet here you are, and you've left the garage unlocked. That's not like you. So, what's going on?" Her expression had hardened into the one she uses when she's not going to back down. I sighed.

"Um." I said, unsure how to proceed"...You know the dreams?" I asked, after a fairly long pause. "The ones I told you about?" Em was the only other person I'd told directly about the dreams, knowing that she'd never judge me and I'd needed someone to talk to before I went completely insane.

"About that guy? With the blue eyes?"


"What about them?"

"He's here."

"Here? What do you mean here?" Now she was even more worried, apparently convinced I'd finally gone over the edge. "Are you feeling OK?" She asked, concern dripping from every syllable.

I sighed again, went halfway back up the stairs and called for Jim to come down. He'd done his best to tidy himself up, but there wasn't a great deal he could do as his shirt was still on my living room floor. He came down the stairs looking slightly sheepish, and frankly, as sexy as fuck.

"Jim, my cousin Emma, Em, this is Jim."

"Hey, good to meet you." Said Jim with a slight wave. Em looked at Jims amazing eyes for a moment and said.

"Hello. Er, Davey said, er, well..." She stopped again, unsure of how to tell a complete stranger that the man whose house he was in was a basket case.

"That I'm the man of his dreams?" Said Jim, with a grin that left me weak at the knees. Emma gasped in shock.

"It's OK, he's the man of my dreams too." Emma looked totally confused by that and looked back at me questioningly.

"He's had the same dreams as me Em, he is literally the man of my dreams."

"You mean you were dreaming about a guy you knew all along? I thought you said...?"

"No, weave never met before today. Jim called with some paperwork from the publisher."

"Oh. So you saw him there then?"

"No." Said Jim "I only started working there a month ago."

"And you know I've not been up there since last year"

"Then, what...how? OK, I'm lost here"

"I don't know. And don't care. He's here, that's all that matters."

It suddenly seemed to dawn on Emma that she was talking to 2 somewhat dishevelled, half dressed men who had come down from the bedroom to talk to her. She turned an interesting shade of red.

"Oh. Oh! I, I, I'll see you later then." And with that she was gone.

As I looked at the closed door I heard a chuckle behind me that sent shivers down my spine, then a hand touched the nape of my neck, gently stroking.

"I think you might have surprised her there."

"Yeah" I sighed, leaning into his hand.

"We do need to talk though don't we?" he asked.

"I guess so." I looked at the clock, and noticed it was past lunchtime. "You hungry?"

"Yeah, I could eat. What did you have in mind?"

I went into the kitchen, opened the fridge and came to the conclusion that we'd be going into town to the diner.

"Well, unless you want maple syrup or a really dubious looking lettuce, I think you'll need to put your shirt back on." I said as I went back to the living room, picked up both our shirts and handed him his. I couldn't help the feeling of regret as he tucked the shirt back in.


Driving into town we were both quiet, but it wasn't awkward. In the diner we were lucky in just having missed the lunchtime rush, and got a booth by the window at the end furthest from the door. He had a cheeseburger, and I had a steak sandwich, with a bowl of fries to share. We started to talk. About all the things you're meant to find out before you take someone to bed.

He was 29, the youngest of 3 boys. He'd spent years working for his father, who ran an investment company, and had quit a couple of years ago when he felt the a pressing need to travel. His folks didn't mind, he'd worked hard since leaving college, he had a hefty trust fund his grandfather had left but hadn't touched it, preferring to make his own way. He hadn't realised until today that with his travels, every time he moved on, he was moving closer to me, finally getting a job with my publisher.

I told him about myself. An only child, Emma was my closest living relative, as my parents had been killed in a car wreck when I was 19. I still lived in the house I grew up in, and the garage was the business my Dad had started when he married my Mum, though these days I just used it for doing renovations for myself.

I'd been very lucky when I sent my first stumbling attempt at a novel to a few publishers, that one of them saw enough potential to get me working with an editor, and my final draft sold pretty well. I'd written another, which sold better, and was given a 5 book deal, but writing the last three had been a serious struggle, and even though they were selling better and better I couldn't do any more.

I told him about Cassie's reaction when I told her about the dreams. He laughed, and when I told him I hadn't had a date since, he said " I'm glad." Suddenly he looked serious again.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Nothing. Only. Look, don't take this the wrong way OK? But, well, I'm not gay." He looked down at his hands, that were ringing a napkin as though he was trying to throttle it.

Not knowing quite how to answer that, I said nothing. He looked up at me again, uncertainty in his eyes. "I mean, I've never felt this way about a guy before." He blushed, and returned to destroying the napkin.

" I'm not either." I said "Gay I mean, men do absolutely nothing for me."

"But?" He asked, waving a hand vaguely to indicate the dreams, this morning and everything.

"As I said, men do nothing for me. I've never been attracted to men, and believe me I had a few offers once Cassie had finished telling everyone what I'd said. But you? You can leave me breathless with just a look, your touch is like fire on my skin and I can't imagine what life would be like if I never saw you again. I guess that means I'm not interested in any men other than you. In fact, I'm not interested in anyone else at all. Only you."

I hadn't intended to say all that, I didn't even know I felt that way until I said it, but it was true, I wanted a life with him I wanted him to be mine, and only mine. But I was worried I'd gone too far, he was still killing the napkin, not looking up. It was crazy, we'd known each other less than 3 hours. I chewed my bottom lip, willing him to speak and dreading it at the same time.

"Me too." He said it so quietly I almost missed it.


"Me too. I want you, I want to be with you. I don't know how this happened, and like you said before, I really don't care. Something made me dream of you, brought me here, to you, and I never want to leave." He looked up then, with an expression showing as much nervousness as I'd felt only a moment before.

"Good. When can you move in?" I said with a grin.

He smiled then, and I knew I'd never get tired of making him smile like that, it was beautiful. Suddenly, a voice cut through my happiness.

"Hey Davey, who's your friend?" Laying a heavy, ironic tone on the word friend. Had her voice always been that grating? I looked up to find Cassie, all tight top and big hair looking at us with very thinly veiled contempt. I sighed. I seemed to be doing a lot of that today.

"Cassie, hey. This is Jim, Jim, this is Cassie."

"The ex?" Asked Jim, looking Cassie up and down.


"Good to meet you Cassie." He said suddenly, shaking her by the hand. "You know, I just have to thank you."

"Huh? Thank me, what for?"

"Well, if you hadn't been a total bitch and ruined Davey's chances with the women around here, he might have been with someone when I turned up here. So thank you." With that, he leaned across to table and kissed me so tenderly, so sweetly and so passionately I was suddenly getting hard again.

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