Date: Thu, 2 Oct 2003 07:29:14 -0700
From: Derek Weiser <mercutio3000@comcast.net>
Subject: My Dream Man

I felt him writhing beneath me.  We rolled over the grassy spot just beyond
the lake.  The misty morning air surrounded us as we arched into each
other, joined up in frenzied mating.  I could see his stomach muscles
ripple beneath the sweat-soaked hair.  I could feel his cock pressed into
my belly as I moved within him.  The mist of early dawn obscured his face.
But I knew him anyway.  I had seen him before, loved him before.  I knew
his body as well as I knew my own.  But I had yet to see his face.  As I
built up, arching over and over into him, the cool, wet morning air chilled
my sweaty, burning skin.  I felt the hair on my chest matt with the sweaty
efforts of our lovemaking.  I kept moving inside him, feeling him grow and
thicken against my belly.  He milked me with his beautiful body, causing my
own release to coincide with his.  I bellowed out ...

... And awoke to sweaty, tangled sheets.  My underwear was soaked with my
release.  I still tingled and shook with aftershocks.  I was so hard still.
I lay spent in my sprawling bed, catching my breath.  I was so frustrated.
This dream had been coming to me night after night for weeks.  It was
always the same man.  I could see his body, I knew every curve and ridge
from his toes to his chin, but I hadn't seen any further.  I knew he was
dark haired, almost black.  He was tall, almost as tall as my six-six.  His
chest was matted with unbelievably thick, curly, infinitely soft hair.  He
was strong, muscled naturally from working with his hands.  They were
calloused and rough.  His shoulders were strong, much broader than his
hips.  His legs had wrapped themselves around me numerous times.  I can
still feel that soft hair, the rippling strength bracing my hips as I
plunge into his heat.  This has got to stop.

I crawled out of bed and dropped my soaked knit boxers in the hamper as I
walked to the shower.  I caught sight of myself in the mirror.  My hair,
both on my head and body, was matted and mussed with sweat.  Whereas my
dream man's body was hulking and corded with muscles, my body was that of a
tiger or dolphin.  I was sleek and graceful, choosing to run and swim
rather than pump iron.  My eyes trailed down my mirrored doppelganger.  I
was still so very erect.  I was so engorged that the head was shiny.  Each
vein stood out in sharp relief and pulsed with my heart.  There was still a
bluish, milky trace of my slumberous orgasm slicking under my foreskin.  I
reached my hand down and smoothed it over its surface.  My middle finger
and thumb didn't quite meet as I grasped myself.  I watched in the mirror
as I fisted myself.  My hand smoothed back my foreskin, peeling it over the
engorged head then pushed it back.  I felt my eyes roll back in my head and
I felt my dream lover take my hand's place.  I felt his calloused thumb
slick over the sensitive ridge on the top of my cock.  His strong, long
fingers fisted me, milking a response from me.  The hand moved faster,
skimming the sensitive nerves, strumming me to pleasure.  I heard my breath
hitch and I started to pant.  My testicles rose up and I tingled, inching
over the edge.  The first spasm gripped me, propelling semen out at
explosive force.  I opened my eyes to watch my first spurt hit he mirror,
followed by a thick second then very loose and wet third.  I became aware
of the cold marble tiles at my feet as I again worked to equal my
breathing.  I watched as my image became distorted as my essence ran down
the mirror's shiny surface.  I grabbed a towel and wiped it up before
heading to my shower.

A few hours later I sat at my desk in my office, overlooking Manhattan.  I
had always found peace in the view, but not today.  The dreams were killing
me.  Desire was turning into an obsession.  At twenty-three, I was at the
top of my game, king of the world.  But I was already tired of it.  A
thought that had only been a vague notion before the madness of my dreams
started began to take root.  I needed to get away.  My work was suffering
and I spent more time wishing I could be asleep if only just to see him and
feel him again.  That night, as I rode the train home, I fell asleep ...

... We met by the lake, neither of us wasting any time to get there.  I
felt him walk up behind me.  He whispered something that sounded like a
mumble, but somehow I understood it, as 'I love you.'  I was already
breathing hard feeling my chest heave for breath at what I knew would
follow.  My dream lover began to skim my unbuttoned shirt off my shoulders,
kissing my warm skin as he went.  I fisted my hands in his hair and lifted
him for my kiss.  I brushed my lips over his as our tongues caressed.  I
felt his shoulders and moved my hands down his back, under the band of his
jeans.  I pushed my fingers under the elastic of his underwear and cupped
his strong, dimpled ass.  I skimmed a finger through the cleft and brushed
it through warm hair and sleek heat, searching for his center.  I removed
one hand and moved it to unbutton his jeans, allowing my other hand greater
motion.  Once freed of the confine, the jeans slid off his hips and pooled
at his feet.  My hand moved faster as I tasted his lips.  I pushed into him
with one finger and felt him shudder beneath me.  I kept pushing into him,
parting him, making him ready for me.  I was so hard and felt pre-cum push
through my slit, wetting my boxers.  Then my dream man pulled away from my
lips, his diaphanous face was still shrouded to me, but I heard him clear
his throat than announce my stop ...

... I awoke to find myself sweaty and achy.  I stood before the train could
move on.  I couldn't hide my erection.  The tent was obvious.  I heard one
guy snicker and an older woman smiled at me, leering at my aroused state.
I felt the blush rise from my neck as I stepped off the train onto the
milling platform.  I crawled into my car and drove home.  Once there I
sought out my shower.  It had six nozzles set at varying heights off of
three pipes with a central rainmaker over my head.  I turned them all
blistering cold, willing the frigid water to reign in my erection that
hadn't calmed in the thirty minutes since awaking on the train.  After
several shivering minutes, I gave up and turned the water scalding and took
matters into my own hands, refusing to give in to the urge to fantasize
about my dream man.  After just a few strong tugs, I exploded, coating the
wall of my shower.

Every time I slept, even for a nap, I entered my dream man's lair.  At
first it had been pleasant with few details.  But each subsequent night,
the details filled in.  The lake and the grassy spot by it, the mist and
the dawn, a few rocks and the trees all took shape and stood out in detail
in the dream.  Even my mystery lover became more real with each passing
nocturnal encounter.  There was a scar on his thigh, the left one, about
three inches above his knee in one long arch.  There was also an
inoculation booster shot scar on his left shoulder.  His belly button was
inward and his shaft was uncircumcised.  But most importantly was the cross
he wore round his neck.  That detail became clear this morning.

With each passing night, I became more convinced that he was real.
Something was causing me to dream about him.  I just didn't know what it
was.  The following Saturday, while watching television, I saw my lake.
There was a special on castles in Ireland and near one of them, was a lake,
straight from my dream.  The willow tree by its side and the rock that
jutted from the water were so familiar.  I had made love with my guy on
that rock, under the willow, on the grassy slope leading back to the
castle.  My God, I knew where he was.  I dropped everything and rushed to
the phone, intending to fly to Ireland immediately.  But just as I picked
up the receiver, logic clouded my mind.  I needed to plan this out.  I
needed to know some things first.  So I decided to wait, giving myself two
weeks.

During the two allotted weeks, I did some research.  I found out the nearby
castle was in a state of neglect, which was what the special was about.  I
looked into it and figured that if I was going to Ireland; I might as well
have a reason.  I stepped down from my position in the family holdings,
becoming a silent partner.  I would use the considerable assets I had, but
no longer worry about the day-to-day running of the company.  When I signed
the papers of control, I felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders.  I knew
I had made the right decision.  I also worked with the Irish government to
purchase the castle and the lake property surrounding it.  My intention was
filed and I was awaiting approval to begin renovations.  Now I had an
excuse to visit.

After two short weeks, I found myself sitting on a 747, winging my way to
Dublin.  Once I had made my decision to go, the dreams became sharper,
almost real.  I even once felt like I was having a dream while awake.  I
was sitting in my chair, reading about the castle, when I felt his hands on
me.  I put down the papers and felt the sensation of skin skimming over my
skin.  It was the strangest sensation.  Then I felt as if his mouth were
covering my cock.  I wasn't touching myself, but it felt as if he was
moving over me.  The sensations grew tighter and tighter within me.  I knew
I was close to cumming.  I felt his mouth move away.  Then I felt him sit
on my lap.  I could feel the soft hair on his ass and legs caress me.  I
felt him part over my shaft.  I felt his back rub in the hair on my chest.
Then he began to move.  Over and over he rode on my shaft, eliciting tight,
spiraling sensations.  I felt his heat and wetness.  Then I felt him clench
me, as if he had found his release.  He kept bouncing, until I followed him
over the edge.  I had my eyes open and I was looking at the walls of my
living room, but I felt his body milk an orgasm from me.  I felt the
wetness seep into my shorts and slacks.  I felt the clenching of my muscles
with each spurt of release.  I collapsed back against my chair, the moment
my orgasm done, the feel of his body left me.  I felt empty without him.

While sitting on the plane, stretched out, lying reclined in the
comfortable chair in first class, I was hoping to avoid going to sleep.
But it was night during the flight and just before dawn in Ireland.  I felt
him pull me into the dream with his own sleepy arousal.  On the plane, I
knew he was real.  I just hoped to find him once there.  I tried to keep
awake, not wanting to do something embarrassing on the plane.  But the
quiet hum of the engines and the warm, comfortable chair as well as my
mystery man's dream pulled my eyes closed ...

... We met at the lake again.  I knew he was near.  I shucked my clothes
and slipped into the glassy lake.  The ice-cold water shocked my system,
but I knew once he arrived, I would be heated.  I heard the brush rustle
and saw it part to reveal him.  He stood before me in jeans and nothing
else.  His breath was coming in fast pants, as if he were already aroused.
Looking down his chest to the tent in his clothes, he obviously was.  With
each step he took toward me, his body became clearer.  The tufts of hair on
his chest and belly, the silky hair on his corded arms, and the strength of
his legs encased in tight denim I was already familiar with.  But as he
came closer, I saw the bridge of his nose.  Each step revealed more and
more of his face.  He had high cheekbones and curly hair.  His eyebrows
were thick and dark, his lips full and sensuous.  But I couldn't see his
eyes, not yet.  I trudged out of the water, intent on seeing his eyes.
When I reached the shore, he joined me at the water's edge.  Then I
glimpsed in his eyes for the first time.  Blue, like the brightest, deepest
sapphires; so different from my mossy green eyes.  It was home, I saw
straight into him and somehow I knew he was seeing all of me finally.  He
reached out and trailed a finger along my chest, chasing a bead of water
through the hair down to my belly.  I was so hard.  He grasped my erection
and started moving on me.  I didn't want him to do this.  I grabbed his
wrist and pulled him to me.  I kissed him.  When our mouths parted, he
looked in my eyes and spoke to me.  It was in a language I didn't
understand.  I tried to tell him I didn't know, but he just shook his head
and kissed me again.  I loved the feel of his tongue brushing against mine.
Then his arms wrapped around me and drew me to him.  My cold, wet chest
nestled into the warm, dry curls of his.  My loose erection rubbed against
the soft ridges of his denim clad one.  I moved my hands down to his jeans,
but he stopped me.  Then he pushed away from me and shook his head.  I
didn't understand why he pushed me away.  He looked down at me, at my
aroused state and gulped hard before looking in my eyes again.  I saw
hunger and passion fire in the sparkling blue.  But he didn't move towards
me.  He shook his head and told me in English, thick with a rich brogue,
that we needed to stop this foolish dreaming.  He told me he was tired of
dreams that stayed unfulfilled.  I watched a tear roll down his cheek.  I
wanted to go to him, tell him I was coming, that I was looking for him.
But I never got the chance ...

... I felt someone shake my arm.  I woke to see a flight attendant tell me
it was time to land.  I sat up and wiped a tear off my cheek.  I was still
aroused, but it was a good feeling.  I knew that soon I would find him.
Whoever he was.  After the plane landed, I had a feeling I wouldn't be
going back to America.  I went through customs and got a car.  I drove
towards Galway, to the South actually.  I drove to a small inn in the town
closest to the castle.  On my drive, I watched the rolling, emerald hills,
dotted with sheep or rock walls, a few crops and cottages as well as a
couple of forested areas.  The beauty transfixed me.  It was foggy and
rainy and I had never seen anything so wonderful.  I checked into the
little inn, set my stuff down and then walked into the pub connected to it
for some lunch.  I had a bookmaker's sandwich.  Grilled roast beef and
tomatoes.  It was delicious.  I also had my first experience with an actual
Guinness.  I sat back and took in the wonders.  There were a couple of
elderly men playing chess and having a yarn about some game they had played
when younger.  There was a lively lass who served the food and drinks.
When the people heard me talk, they pegged me for the Yank I was and
started to talk to me.  They asked what I was doing in Ireland and I
explained about the castle up the road.  There were a few disgusted
comments and the people turned from me.  The waitress leaned down and
explained that Michael had been working on it and was hoping to get a grant
to take care of the old castle.  I felt really bad, but I understood why
the government sold the land to me.  I wasn't looking for help; I could do
all the renovations with my own money, pouring much needed cash into the
local economy.  I just hoped I could make peace with this Michael.

Sensing my welcome was waning; I left and went upstairs to my room.  A few
hours later, after calling the government contact I had and explained that
I had arrived and was going over the property, I asked about this Michael
and his claim on the land.  Apparently he was a young man (it made me
laugh, only being twenty-three myself) who had grown up in the area and had
started to clear the land around the castle, wanting to renovate the castle
grounds, restoring the gardens.  The idea had merit; I had only thought of
the building, I hadn't thought about the grounds.  I bought the surrounding
land so I could have the lake.  Maybe we could work something out.

The time difference with New York had me contemplating the bed when a knock
called me to the door.  The innkeeper was there.  He told me that Michael
had found out about my presence and was heading over to have words with me.
He told me 'the lad has a fine temper.'  Apparently his back was up and
wanted to have it out with me.  Fine, I would confront him, tell him that I
owned the land and the castle and then propose a partnership with him.
This was just the setback I didn't need on my quest to find my mystery man.

Deciding it was best to meet him on neutral ground; I headed back down into
the pub.  But I didn't make it past the front desk when the front door
opened.  A tall, big man walked in.  He had a hat on his head to shield him
from the rain.  He turned and placed his raincoat and hat on a peg then
turned to me.  I couldn't have been more surprised.  It was my dream man.
My breath left me.  All I could do was stare.  He looked in my eyes and he
stopped too.  He recognized me.  I started to grin.  Here he was.  I was so
happy to see him.  Then someone from the bar called out and told Michael to
leave the Yank alone.  Oh God!  His name was Michael; the same Michael who
was pissed at me for buying the castle.  Oh man!

His smile slowly disappeared as the realization dawned.  His voice was
thick with a delicious brogue.  "You!  You are the Yank who bought my
castle?"

"Look, I did buy the castle.  But I need to talk to you about it."

"What, that you and your Yank money can come in and push me out?"

"Please, let me explain.  Give me five minutes.  Privately.  Please?"

He nodded and we walked into the barman's cozy behind the bar in the pub.
I sat in a padded, faded, velvet chair and he in another.  The pub owner
came in with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.  He eyed us wearily and
then left, shutting the door behind him.  I looked at him, taking his
measure, enjoying being within touching distance of him.  I started to
remember some of the delicious things we did to each other.

"Your five minutes is wasting."

I shook myself and I felt myself blush.  "I'm sorry.  My name is Patrick
Jamison.  I have to ask you a personal question."

He nodded at me.  So I swallowed hard and spoke.  "Do you have a scar,
about three inches long over your left knee?"

I watched him swallow, shock taking over his features.  But he did nod.
"How did you know about the scar?"

"I've seen it.  In my dreams."

I watched Michael swallow.  Then he stood and paced the two or three steps
he could in the small room.  I sat back and watched him move.  For such a
large, bulky man, he moved with a sleek grace.  I don't think I could ever
get tired of looking at him.  His legs were bunching with muscle.  He was
so tense.  He looked as if he could jump through the roof.  He was the
epitome of caged energy.  Then he stopped and looked at me.

"So it was all real.  You had the dreams too."  It wasn't a question but I
nodded.  "The lake, the woods, all of it real?"

"Yes."

"Did you dream this morning?  I saw your eyes for the first time this
morning?"

"Yes.  I was on the plane.  You said something to me I don't understand."
I repeated the phrase to him.  He just blushed and looked away.  "Michael,
what did it mean?"

"It's Gaelic.  I was telling you that you are my heart, my love."

I stood and walked to him.  I moved in to kiss him but he pulled back.  I
was confused.  He looked in my eyes and for once the belligerence was gone.
Instead he looked sad.

"Patrick, I'm engaged to be married."

Well that stopped me cold.  I felt lost.  I had given up my job and my home
to come to him.  I was at a loss as to what to do.  I just looked at him
for a minute.  He looked truly miserable.  I just walked past him and out
the door.  I headed up the stairs to my room and started to pack my bags.
I had no reason to stay in Ireland now.  I heard a knock on my door.  It
was Michael.  I walked up and opened the door.  He looked miserable and
guilty.  I felt bad for him, but not bad enough.  He saw that I was
packing.  He stopped what he was about to say and looked me in the eyes.
There were so many questions, but I couldn't answer them.  He told me that
I should stay, at least for the night.  I nodded, knowing I was too tired
to drive back to Dublin that night.  I shut the door to any more questions
and moved my bag off the bed.  I sat down and started to tug off my boots.
I stood and shucked my jeans and sweater and shirt and crawled under the
blankets.  I turned off the lights and stared out the window at the moon,
willing myself to sleep and this time not to dream.  Eventually, after a
couple of hours, I felt my eyes drift ...

... I walked down the slope to the lake.  Michael was standing there,
looking out at the water, at the reflection of the moon.  I walked up
behind him and said his name.  He turned to me.  He looked haunted and so
very sad.  He walked up to me and wrapped me in his arms.  He nuzzled my
neck and moved his hands over my back.  I pulled away.  I stared in his
eyes.  Then I simply said to hell with it and kissed him.  I moved my hands
under his t-shirt and felt the soft, silky hair.  I felt his stomach hitch
as I rubbed over the ridges.  I pulled away from him.

"Where are you Michael?  I want to see you.  We've been dreaming about it
enough."

"No Patrick.  This, only this."

"No."

I turned from him and walked away from him.  He called me back.  I turned,
there were tears in his eyes.  I couldn't break from the dream.  I tried.
Michael came up to me.  He marched on me, faster and faster.  When he got
to me, he pulled me roughly to him and started kissing me.  He pushed me to
the ground.  My breath rushed out of me as I hit the grass.  He collapsed
on top of me, kissing me harder.  In all of our dream encounters, not one
of them was he the aggressor.  But this time he was.  He pulled at my
clothes.  When the cool air beaded my nipples I cried out.  He covered
first one then the other with his mouth.  He nipped and bit at my skin,
lapping his tongue along my chest, through the hair covering my belly.  He
tore at my pants until I was lying in just my boxers.  Then he shucked his
clothes until he was naked before me.

He knelt between my legs and hooked his elbows under my knees, pushing them
forward into my chest.  He reached a hand down and yanked the hem of my
boxers down, exposing my ass.  Michael then pushed into me with one, great
thrust.  It should have hurt; I've never done this before.  Instead I was
rocked with lust and passion as I clenched him.  I had never known such
fullness, such connection.  I felt him rock into me, twisting and
swiveling, hitting every bump and nerve ending I had.  I felt myself grow
harder, stretch tighter.  I was taut with need, barely able to keep from
tripping.  My orgasm reached to me through my dream and I clamped him as I
spurt between us.  Michael kept pumping.  I usually wake up when I cum.  I
was still in the dream.

He kept pistoning into me.  I was spent.  I wanted to wake up.  The sex had
been beyond belief, but it was all I was ever going to have; a fake love
affair with a real live person.  I beat my fist on his back.  I wanted it
over.  I wanted him to stop or cum just so the dream would end.  After a
few minutes I watched as he reared his head back and bellowed his release.
I felt each jet hot inside me and wondered if it would be there when I
woke.  But again I didn't wake up.

Michael slowly calmed.  He looked down at me and withdrew from my body.  He
sat by me on the ground.  I lowered my legs and pulled my shorts up,
suddenly feeling naked and vulnerable.  Michael reached for his briefs and
put them on.

"Why haven't we woken up?"

"I don't know."

"You realize Michael that even if you marry, we will probably still have
the dream."

"I know."

"Can you live like that?  Wondering if each night will cause you to cum in
your sleep, possibly calling out my name?"

"Stop!"

"No.  You don't have to be with me.  But damn it, don't use the castle as
an excuse."

"Why did you buy it?"

"To be close to you.  I saw the lake from our dreams on the television and
the castle behind it.  I knew this was where you would be.  I have lots of
money and wanted to do something with it.  But in case you weren't here, I
wanted something to do until I could find you."

"You've given up a lot to find me, haven't you?"

"Not really."

"No bullshit now."

"Okay, my home in New York and my position in the company.  But it doesn't
matter."

"I need a few days to think.  I have to make a decision."

"We will probably still see each other in our sleep."

"I know."

"I want to see the castle tomorrow.  I'll stay out of your way.  But I need
to actually see where we have been together."

"Fine, I need to go to Galway anyway."

I laughed.  "How do we wake up?"

He chuckled too.  "Try opening your eyes ...

... The sun was shining in my face.  I reached down under the blankets, but
my shorts were dry.  Perhaps we weren't connected this time.  Maybe it was
just a regular dream.  I decided to make good on my plans and got up and
bathed.  Then I had a good, traditional Irish breakfast (don't ask what
black and white pudding is), then set off.

The castle sat amidst a few tall, stately trees.  The years had not been
kind to either the grounds or the structure.  But there was sign of recent,
loving care being given to the old place.  I walked the grounds and circled
around the stately manor.  When I reached the North corner, I knew that the
path before me led to the lake.  I followed it down towards the water.
There stood the beautiful willow and the smooth rock that jutted from the
water a few feet from shore.  I grew wistful while contemplating what might
never actually be.  But that's as may be.

I walked back to the castle and walked up the steps to the main entrance.
The doors were barred, but I peeked into a few of the windows.  Internally,
things looked relatively sound.  As I looked around, I couldn't help but
wonder what I was going to do with it all.  My original plans were to do
what so many others had done with their old homes and turn it into a hotel,
but that seemed crass somehow.  Then I realized I couldn't do much without
input from the village down the lane.  What would they say to a big hotel,
taking business from the quaint inn and lively pub?  I don't know.  I
really hadn't a clue.

I drove back towards town, still muddled with my ideas when I saw a bit of
coastline.  I turned off and followed a winding road towards a cliff.  I
got out of my car and looked out at the gray-green of the Atlantic.  Mighty
waves crashed into the rocks below.  I could almost imagine the numerous
people who must have stood here and wondered what was beyond the horizon to
the West.  Iceland, Greenland, Canada.  All untamed lands at one point.
And here, on the coast of Ireland, was where a great many of its settlers
started.  I turned to go back to my car when I noticed my castle further
away along the coast.  It looked out over the sea like a sentinel, the lake
further inland.  At that moment I had an idea, one so simple, yet far
reaching that I wished Michael were here to share it with me.  So strange
how we had only met once, but I felt so connected to him.  Well, even dream
sex is a great link between two people.

When I got back to my room, I was tempted to nap so I could try and pull
Michael into my dream so I could tell him my plans.  But I resisted.  So I
went down to the pub and had a pint.  Which led to another.  And another.
And another.  By dinnertime I was pretty well sloshed.  A couple of the
regulars helped me upstairs and to my room.  I collapsed on the bed and was
out ...

... We met at the lake like always.  But everything swam before me.  I kept
staggering to the right or left when I meant to walk towards the water.
Maybe I shouldn't be so near when I am drunk.  So I sat down and waited for
Michael.  In no time I heard him behind me.  He walked up to me and sat
beside me.  He smiled at me.  I couldn't help it.  I giggled.

"So it's drunk you be, is it?"

"You better believe it."

"Why Patrick?"

"I had an epi... epith... epiphany by the castle today.  I wanted to share
it with you.  But I had some time to kill before bed.  So one pint led to
another."

"Where are you Patrick?"

"In my room at the inn.  Why?"

"I want to see you."

"That's nice Michael.  That's rather sweet."  I hiccupped.  "Hey wait a
minute.  How long have you been working on the castle.  It doesn't look
like much has been done."

"Since the morning after the first dream."

"Oh, Michael."

"You need to wake up Patrick.  I will come to you at the inn, I promise.
But I can't go unless you wake up."

"Open my eyes again? ...

... The moon shone in my window and my head spun around it.  I had never
been much of a drinker, now I knew why.  I wondered how long it would take
Michael to reach me.  But it really didn't matter.  God I need to pee.  I
was stumbling towards the toilet when Michael walked in.  He took one look
at me and laughed.  He helped me to the bathroom and stood behind me as I
took care of business.  Then he stripped me down and put me in the shower
before joining me after shucking his own clothes.  He really is magnificent
you know?

Then the magnificent bastard turned on the water.  Ice cold water.  He held
my head down and under the spray until I sputtered.  Then I called his
mother three types of whore before he finally let me up.  But, I will give
him this, the room no longer spun.  Bastard.  He laughed at me before
throwing me a towel.  He stepped out of the shower and dried himself before
going into the room.  After drying myself I followed him with the towel
slung low on my hips.  I was freezing.  I found Michael under the covers.
He told me to join him.  He said it was to conserve body heat.  I hoped he
meant some athletic building of heat.  I jumped right in with him.  There
was a hot water bottle lying between us.  No quickie for us.  Damn!

I reached for him, wanting to touch him.  But he stopped my hand and
brought it to his lips.  He told me to wait, until I was completely sober.
I lay back and he reached over me and turned off the light.  I watched as
moonlight caught in his long lashes as they fluttered closed.  I had had
some sleep, but needed more ...

... We met at the lake again.  We were naked and lying by each other on the
grassy slope, looking at the moonlight reflecting in the water.  I looked
over at him; his chest rose and fell lightly with each breath.  It
accentuated the muscles and hair on his body.  I felt myself get hard,
really hard.  I turned to him, rolling on top of him.  There was something
warm between our bellies.  My erection nestled against his, pillowed by all
the soft hair on our bodies, cushioned by the hard muscles and warm skin of
our bellies.  I couldn't help it; I thrust upwards, gliding over his
bulging, muscular chest.  After a few, slow thrusts, I took his mouth and
kissed him.  We kept moving, him meeting my hips equally with each of my
thrusts.  We kept moaning, groaning and grunting.  There was a bird
chirping in the tree overhead.  God it was lousy at peeping.  It sounded
like a squeak, almost like a rusty spring.  Squeak!  Squeak!  Squeak! ...

... I awoke, on top of Michael, with the bed squeaking as I moved over him.
We were hard and dripping.  The hot water bottle wedged between our
sternums.  I looked in his eyes as he met mine.  We couldn't stop laughing.
We stopped moving and laughed.  The bed shook more from our laughter than
our lovemaking.  I was still looking at him when we stopped.  The air
around us changed.  I leaned into him and kissed him; our first real kiss.
My lips moved over his and he met me, kiss for kiss.  Our tongues pushed
out slightly and met, tip to tip.  I brushed over his tongue with my own,
caressing his own and taking his taste to my brain.  I wanted to make love
to him.  I wanted to be inside him; but not here at the inn.  I pulled away
from his lips.  His lips were swollen.  He was panting, looking at me in
wonder.  I noticed the gold cross in the hollow of his throat.  The last
piece was in place.

"Not here Michael.  We need to go to the lake.  Our first time needs to be
there."

"I know."

We got up and dressed, working really hard to zip up over our erections.
It was close to midnight when we left the pub.  We crawled into my car with
a couple of blankets and headed out.  It took no time at all to reach the
castle.  I pulled into the drive and we hopped out and practically ran to
the lake.  When we got there, I pulled him into my arms.  I started to kiss
him.  I pulled off his sweater and shucked his jeans, pulling every stitch
of clothing off of him until he was naked.  I pushed him onto the ground
and proceeded to worship his body.  I started at his feet, kissing and
licking around each toe.  I trailed my tongue up the arch of his foot.  I
nipped at his ankle and flicked the back of his knee.  Then I worshipped
each inch of his thigh with open-mouthed kisses.  I nuzzled his scrotum
with my nose before moving down to his other foot.  I spent a lot of time
on the scar over his knee.  Then I moved up until my cheek grazed his erect
penis.  Michael was writhing on the grass, whimpering in agonized pleasure.
I skipped his center and moved to his fingers, then wrist, elbow, shoulder
and armpit.  First his left arm, then the right.  Then I worshipped at his
neck, nipping on his earlobes before latching on to his pulse, low by his
shoulder.  I know I was leaving a mark, and I didn't care.  I moved my
mouth down and latched on to one of his nipples.  I teased it, and then bit
it before sucking him deeply into my mouth, suckling and laving the
sensitive tip.  Then I moved down to his navel, swirling my tongue around
and then into the slight indentation.  I tried my hardest to untie the
knot.  I pulled up to look at him, he was panting.  His eyes were glassy
and his skin was flushed a rosy pink.  I loved him.

I moved between his legs and kissed the leaking tip of him, one simple peck
of my lips.  Michael reared up, moaning hard at my barest touch.

"Stop!  Patrick, I'm too close to cumming.  Inside me; I want us to cum
together."

I took his hand and placed it on my shaft.  I twitched when he squeezed me,
so close to orgasm I held his hand still.  I told him to guide me.  I felt
the sticky tip brush through his silky hair.  Then I felt the warm, pulsing
opening below me.  I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head.  Then I
was parting him, moving forward by scant millimeters.  I looked down at
Michael as I pushed forward.  When I breached his sphincter, placing the
head of my cock inside him, Michael arched his back and cried out as he
shot stream after healthy stream of semen over the both of us.  He moaned
and grunted, then kept chanting 'too soon, too soon.'

"It's beautiful when you cum Michael.  I want to see it again."

Then I pushed completely inside of him, seating myself to the hilt.  I felt
him quiver and adjust to my breadth and girth.  I clenched my jaw and tried
hard not to cum right then.  Slowly he relaxed around me and I knew a
tenuous grip on control.  I pulled out slightly and then pushed back.
Michael moaned under me.  I repeated the motion again, then again.  I kept
arching into him, meeting his body with my own.  I ground my hips into his,
feeling the soft hair become matted with sweat.  Both of our bodies dripped
with it as we moved together.  I kept up my motions, trying so hard not to
trip.  But I wanted to cum so badly, my orgasm was hovering around me;
keeping my belly quivering and my legs rocking.  I shut my eyes, hoping to
stop the moment from happening, just for a while longer.  But it was no
good.  I was just too damn close.  I opened my eyes so I could look at
Michael.  I felt my shaft start to twitch in great, heaving movements as I
came.  Each spurt of semen left me and I called out his name.  "Oh Michael!
Oh Michael!  Oh Michael!"

When the last of my spasms stopped, once I slowed my undulating hips and
was about to stop moving, Michael reared up his head and cried out.  I
watched him, so sweaty and flushed from our lovemaking, as he climaxed
again.  I was looking in his eyes, holding his stare, willing him to see
how much I loved him.  At the periphery edge of my vision I saw stream
after stream of his release slide up his chest, towards the hollow of his
throat.  I had my arms braced over him, my palms feeling the soft grass
below me.  Each breath of my body caused my cock to twitch in ecstatic
aftershocks.  I kept staring into his eyes, until my body wouldn't support
me anymore.  I collapsed on top of Michael, finding solace and comfort as
his arms wrapped around me.  I felt myself soften and slip out of him.  He
met my lips for a tired kiss.

After a while, we rolled to our feet and trudged to the lake, rinsing our
bodies in the cool water.  The chilly water lapped at our waists and we
started splashing, playfully.  Then we crawled onto the shore, rolling into
one of our blankets, half drying, half warming our bodies.  Michael looked
at me and asked what my plan for the castle was.

"I want to turn it into a museum and gallery.  It is huge.  I got the idea
while looking out over the sea.  So many Americans don't have any clue who
or what there past really is.  I'm hoping we can turn the castle into a
place for some of them to find their past."

"That's not a bad idea.  But I want to restore the gardens."

"Of course."

"I think there should be a restaurant too."

"We can work on that.  What about your fiancee?"

"I saw her today and broke things off with her.  You were right you know,
the dream wasn't going to end, even if we were apart."

"Are you okay with this?"

"I always was, it was marriage I had doubts about."

I kissed him, curling my body around his, feeling us drift towards sleep.

I awoke to the dawn, and I hadn't dreamed.  I wondered what had happened to
the magic.  For the first night in six months, I hadn't dreamt of my
mystery man.  Then he rolled against me, nuzzling my neck and wrapping a
leg over mine.  He reached his hand down to cup my burgeoning erection.
And I smiled at the new day by our misty lake by the sea on the coast of
Ireland.