The Beautiful Dream

The night was a silver-grey. The moon was full and glowed a deep buttermilk. I was walking down a street somewhere in a dream land. I knew I was dream-walking; I knew I was asleep, not really surprised after the week I've had, been a painter/decorator for over thirty year's and it's not getting any easier. I felt light and carefree. There were no rules for me here, except for the ones I make for myself. There was a dream ether all about me, which was loaded with emotion and lust, silk-like and smooth.

The houses in the street had large illuminated windows and I could see into their living rooms and kitchens. The rooms were beautifully decorated and colourful. I saw a lusty lady look through a window, she looked at me, and my desires grew. I stopped at a door marked number six and knocked on it. A petite lady of about twenty-two answered it and asked what my desire would be. Her hair was jet-black with short pig-tails; her eyes were large and round and of the darkest brown; her nose was small and perfect, as were her deep red lips. Her breasts swelled her white T-shirt and her nipples bumped through. My manhood became alert and my desire grew hot. She was holding a tray of cookies and she told me they were fresh from the oven and would I like one. I took one from the tray and told her of my desire to find Barbra. She told me she lived at the end of the street, next to the big old oak tree. She bid me goodbye and closed the door.

I walked to the top of the street and saw the big old oak. The house was behind it and I walked up to the front door. I was going to knock when I noticed a light shining through an upstairs window. I could see a shadow dancing around the window, but the branches of the oak obscured my view. I walked toward the trunk of the oak to get a better look and noticed there was a ladder leaning against it. I climbed the ladder which took me on to a large branch, which stretched toward the illuminated window like a platform. I walked across the branch which took me right up to the window. My heart thumped hard in my chest and my manhood grew with frightening ferocity when I saw Barbra showering herself.

She moved as fluid as the water itself, flowing over her ivory skin. She soaped herself and my desires grew as she caressed herself, Barbra was the twenty-two year old lady of my dreams. Her breasts hung tender as wet silk; her nipples large and brown, soapy suds dripped from them and I watched them fall. Her midriff and hips were hour-glass shaped, enclosing her perfect pubic triangle. She washed herself like a dance, as I watched her in a trance. I knocked on the window, but she kept washing. Knock, knock! I knocked. Knock, knock! I Knocked...

I woke up. I was alone in bed. The dream was fresh in my head and I was sad that I woke, because Barbra looked at me and waved. I got out of bed and went down stairs. I stood froze to the spot, sitting at the breakfast table was Barbra. "like some toast," she asked me. She was wearing my dressing gown that hung loose around her. I could see her tight cleavage and the tops of her fleshy breasts. My manhood once again rose and pushed its way through the slit in my boxer shorts, and into open view in all its gushing glory. Barbra looked at me in my erotic pose and said "forget the toast." I walked toward her, and she took my erection in her finely manicured hand and began to pump it. It felt like electric rushing through me. She leaned forward and her dressing gown fell open and her tender breasts fell out. I took the weight of her right breast in my right hand, it felt warm and soft. A thousand frissons ran up and down my spine when I felt hot breath on my raging pommel. I felt her nipple go hard as I rubbed it with my thumb. Her hair tickled my throbbing shaft as she came further down on me; I closed my eyes...

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! I woke back in cold reality. The dream either was gone. My dressing gown hung were it usually did and there was no Barbra in it. It was six o'clock in the morning and time to go to work. I got out of bed as I wiped a small tear from my cheek.

Sitting on the tube train I thought of Barbra naked in her shower. At work, I thought of Barbra in my dressing gown and her hot breath on my erection. Inside my overalls my manhood stiffened and I slid my hand inside and give it a tug and said to myself, "that's for you Barbra."