Date: Sun, 24 Feb 2013 10:13:08 -0600
From: Luis <niftyanswers@gmail.com>
Subject: What Dreams May Cum...: Chapter 2: The Things Inside My Head

       Disclaimer: The following document is a work of fiction in its
entirety. None of the characters or situations described here, or in any
possible sequels, are real. Furthermore, its actions take place in an
alternate reality with no real consequences, unlike ours. Thus, the writer
does not condone or advice anyone to re-enact or reproduce them. Finally,
if you are not legally permitted to read the kind of material published in
an adult literature website, you should know better than keep on reading.

       With that said, I hope you enjoy this story. Feedback is of the most
advisable nature. If you send me any ideas you would like to see happen or
stories you would like to see dropped, I'll take them into consideration
for future chapters. Email me at niftyanswers@gmail.com!

       What dreams may cum...
       Part I: Therapy Sessions
       Chapter 2: The things inside my head

       Previously: Mickey has been having sexual dreams about his father
Michael. After a long time in therapy with Doctor Greinsteen, none of the
usual methods work. Seeing the despair Mickey was suffering, the doctor
suggests beginning alternative treatments. Mickey, upon the doctor's
orders, masturbates letting the thoughts about his father come
over. However, what he fantasizes about isn't his dreams. He consciously
imagines sex with his father and actually enjoys it. For his next session,
he will have to provide the doctor with a masturbation journal.

       Mickey lay in bed in the middle of the night. Again, the obscure
silence of the house haunted him. He had been trying to fall asleep for
hours, but to no avail. Even when he had been trying to let his mind go
this week, it was hard for him to go through this. He tried to embrace his
feelings, his fantasies and his dreams. He was scared and nervous, now more
than ever. Could he really be in love with his father more than he should?
Days went by and it was almost time to go back to therapy. He had been
keeping a journal of everything that he had been experiencing this week. He
went further than Dr. Greinsteen instructed and recorded his thoughts, his
feelings, his fantasies and his dreams. More and more, every day, he felt
more relaxed, but also the constancy of his thoughts about his father grew.
       Eventually, the kid got sick of lying there with his eyes closed. He
decided he would write in his journal. It had proven to help him get some
ease. However, when his eyes opened, things felt different. It was almost
as if life had changed. The way gravity worked had shifted and now
everything was lighter. It was all made of air. His head spun, but Mickey
liked the feeling. It was familiar. In this state of dream he always felt
his entire worries move away. Suddenly all that was left was his
libido. Although, even that, didn't belong to him; that, his father
controlled.
       Today, it was one of those nights were it all started early. He woke
up still in his room, but he was being carried off his bed by his
father. Mickey laughed at the feelings the movement caused him. He closed
his eyes and threw his head back. He felt his weight shift when he was
deposited back onto a surface. It caused his eyes to open, and there was
the familiar setting. It was a very strange place, but it felt usual. The
surroundings were industrial: metal mesh walls, spare parts for some sorts
of machines everywhere, smell of grease, and oil, and that scent that
things were recently soldered there....
       For some reason, the scenario made Mickey hard instantly. He already
knew what was coming to him and what to expect. His father put him down on
the floor and Mickey instinctively tried standing up, but fell as soon as
he attempted to sit. He closed his eyes laughing. Everything spun around
him. He simply lay there watching the purling on the ceiling. It was easier
to let his intoxication take control of his brain. He stayed mouth agape
and waiting.
       Soon, the smell of lube and latex filled his mouth. His father
walked back and placed a mask over his face. He couldn't see anything
anymore, but the last image he took in was his dad walking around,
completely naked except for another mask exactly like the one he was
putting on his son, with the exception that that one had holes for the eyes
and mouth. A few seconds later, the usual feeling came over him. His father
was inserting his penis up his asshole.
       Mickey moaned in pleasure and pain. His anus was sending shivers up
his spine, but the size of the dick inside him hurt. Very soon, all of it
had penetrated him. The kid barely had any time to breath before his dad
started thrusting in and out. The rhythm of his thrusts was slow, but they
were forceful. Mickey moved a quarter of an inch with each one. The
sensation they caused him were too intense given his intoxicated state, and
he couldn't do anything but lay there, moan like a bitch and enjoy them. It
didn't take long for the pain to go away. At least in his dreams, the kid
was fucked regularly, and so his ass was used to it. In all felt
intensified by the darkness the mask brought down on him.
       Time felt different whenever Mickey was being fucked, but it always
feels that way with dreams. He thought it had been about twenty minutes
when he felt his dad's hairy body press down on him. The man was now lying
on top of his son, getting quicker with the pace in which he was fucking
him. It became harder to breath that way, but the cock was moving so fast
now, that perhaps it was the reason for it. The teenager didn't mind,
though. This was his favourite position for two reasons. First, the contact
with his father took the experience to another level. The man's body rubbed
against his skin with every thrust and it grazed his nipples in a way that
incremented his pleasure. Also, with his sight gone, the rest of Mickey's
senses were intensified, and smelling his father, sweaty and musky so close
to him was a delight.
       Suddenly, Mickey moaned as his insides went empty. His dad had taken
his cock out of his ass. Soon, though, Mickey was being raised off the
ground, turned around and laid back down. Now, he could feel the wetness
from his erection pressed against his stomach. The mats on the floor were
warm and wet from the fucking going on on top of them. At least that, the
boy was able to feel before his pussy was stretched again. This time, his
father did so with such strength that Mickey let out a scream.
       He knew from experience that whenever this position was reached, his
dad was close to cumming. He also know, getting his ass flooded would bring
him to his edge, and that him cumming would in turn wake him from his
dream. It felt like less than five minutes for all that to happen. Suddenly
his dad let out a grunt and thrust as deep as he could into Mickey's
ass. Then, about seven jets of thick, hot cum filled the kid, and it was
just too much. As the last jet of cum spilled from the teen's cock onto the
mat, therefore drenching his abs, Mickey felt a shift in gravity.
       A fraction of a second later he was lying in bed, completely
drenched in sweat, sporting the hardest erection of his life and feeling
disgusted and sick. He wiped the sweat on his face with the sheets, looked
up at the alarm clock next to his bed and proceeded to write in the journal
he had ready on his night table.

       "Tuesday, September 8th

       I had that dream again..."