Date: Thu, 2 Sep 2010 23:38:53 +0100
From: Jim Smith <quiller688@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: The Dreamer 2

This is the second part of The Dreamer story, I pushed the boat out on the
title and called it The Dreamer 2. Please read the first one first (ummm)
it'll make more sense.

Legal stuff is self-explanatory, I won't patronise you with the ins and outs.

All rights reserved, if you attempt to reproduce this story I'll be
surprised then cross in that order.

Remarks (if you can be bothered) to quiller688@hotmail.co.uk


It had been difficult, he'd seen both of his friends during the day, it was
sad in one way but delicious in another, he had inside knowledge, he knew
something about them, especially Craig and it was his secret alone. If
Craig picked up on his mood or demeanour, he didn't say. Cameron was well
used to covering for himself although recently, he'd become more fatalistic
about it. It occurred to him that he could get away with much more because
people really weren't interested in what he said or did.

Later on in the evening he showered and got ready for bed, it was the end
of the school week so tomorrow promised a long lie in, he wondered if he'd
have another one of those dreams, they were rare occurrences, but maybe?
Perhaps he could prime his subconscious to produce a similar dream, he had
an active imagination but nothing really compared to the feelings in a
dream, or at least nothing excluding the real thing and even he accepted
that at fourteen; it wasn't exactly on the horizon.

The television was boring and the video games were all played out so he
pulled the summer sheets up to his neck and lay staring at the posters
opposite his bed until his eye lids became heavy. Before sleep took him, he
turned his bedside lamp off.

The night was warm, only a hint of breeze blew through the open window; the
air was turgid and cloying. The posters on the walls rustled gently and the
faint jangling of a wind ornament in the garden was the only noise. His
face was calm, in his sleep he'd turned the pillow over like so many,
preferring the cool side against his cheek. He sighed deeply, and stretched
languorously, toes and hands pointing to the bottom of the bed, his eyes
moved to and fro beneath closed eyelids.

This wasn't a morning dream with the mind moving up from sleep in to
wakefulness, this was a night time dream, his mind was moving down across
the narrow margin of REM sleep where the sub-conscious and conscious
mingled playfully. Like a small child trying hard to keep the front wheel
of his pushbike on the white line in the road, weaving to this side for
waking or to the other side for sleep. When the wheel stayed on the white
line, his two minds could connive to produce dreams of a tantalising
nature.

Nighttime dreams are usually more lucid, the mind is set up for going down
into sleep, in the morning, it's aiming for wakefulness. Nighttime is the
best time to dream and this boy was dreaming.

He curled into the foetal position turning his head up to face the ceiling;
his hands were clutched against his chest under his chin. Slowly he turned,
straightening out to lie on his stomach; the duvet was tangled up in his
legs, he sighed again as the...

...Standing on a beach, it was warm with only a slight breeze he could feel
against his skin. Only one person was in site, he thought he recognised his
friend from school today, he was running toward him but not getting any
closer. Smiling, he raised a bare arm to wave, looking down he realised he
wasn't wearing any clothes. The scenery went into a schism, beach blurring,
sea rolling back; his conscious mind was trying to exert control; he wasn't
confident enough to be naked in front of his friend, no way!  Things
settled, his friend was close now, the beach had returned, he could smell
the salt from the sea and the sweeter aroma of the trees and something else
he couldn't identify. He was also relieved to feel clothes against his
skin, he looked over at the other boy, he liked him, liked him a lot more
than he should if truth be told. Normally this was something he kept well
buried, no one could know, but here; it seemed ok, it didn't seem to
matter. He stepped a little closer...

...Duvet slipped further down his back, the breeze from the open window
caressed his skin and a wave of Goosebumps appeared across his shoulder
blades, the air was warm though; it wasn't causing the Goosebumps. Gently
he pressed his hips into the bed, his hands delved under and into his
shorts so he could free up his tumescence, as he pressed again with his
hips, concavities appeared on each buttock, the light material of the grey
shorts he wore matched every contour of the body part they covered. Another
gentle thrust with his hips while...

...Standing almost toe-to-toe, he looked into his friend's eyes, he decided
it was the eyelashes that did it for him, they were so long and the sensual
lips, they just seemed so soft, if only he could touch them... Something
didn't seem right, the clothes he felt against his body, they weren't his,
he was still unclothed, he was excited and terrified at the same time, then
he heard Cameron say: "It's fine, don't worry." Craig looked up into his
friend's eyes and smiled shyly, he tried to speak but couldn't find the
words, in his dream he was either unable or he really didn't know what to
say. He felt a light touch against the bare...

...Another sigh escaped from his body, Craig ground his slim hips slowly
against the bed, a whimper escaped from him that ended in a long sigh. In
all the pushing and thrusting, his shorts had begun to ride down; the very
top of two smooth dusky skinned buttocks could be seen...

...Skin above his hipbone, he hadn't the words to explain how it felt; a
feathery electrical charge underlined with a gentle yet exhilarating
tickling. Fingertips travelled over his torso and up across his adolescent
chest from one taught nipple to the other, Craig let this dream-Cameron
have the run of his body, he just stood with closed eyes and let it wash
over him for the moment. He felt warm breathe against his lips, he parted
them slightly and waited for...

...A faint jangling, rustling of posters, a ray of sodium light carved
through the dark bedroom and splashed across the skin of Craig's lower
back, his shorts even lower now unveiling more smooth unblemished skin, he
was still now, his mind taking his body past the dream state and into
sleep. A gentle sigh, one more gyration of those most slender and narrow...

...Cameron's lips to touch... Contact! He'd never even kissed a girl, how
could he know what it felt like, how could he know it felt this
perfect. Velvety, soft, warm, moist, his mind extrapolated as best it could
and since his imagination was no slouch it did an excellent job. He reached
out with his own hands, he could feel Cameron's sex pressing against his
own as he drew the boy's hips closer, he began to push the trousers down,
as he did so; he felt a tingle begin to grow deep in his abdomen. Craig
broke the kiss off and tried to look down as Cameron's boyhood came into
the open but the tingling was now strident, causing the dream to lose its
lucidity. As he curled his fingers around Cameron's fourteen years of
development, it felt slender, yet long, smooth, yet hard. He felt the palm
of Cameron's hand on his own hardness, the fingers below gently massaged
his testicles until his scrotum began to tighten. The dream was all about
touch and smell now and in no small measure atmosphere, to Craig it felt
very real. He could feel Cameron's body pressing against his own, his
chest, thighs and flat stomach, even their foreheads touched gently, the
boy's presence filled his mind...

...Thighs and all movement stopped for a moment. Gently but speedily, the
boy's body tensed and a gasp escaped the his lips, his eyes opened slightly
then closed, he pressed his hips once more against the bed then let his
hands burrow back into the front of the shorts he wore. He was almost awake
but the dream still held something for him, it would not let him go until
it was done. A sharp intake of breath, the duvet fell to the floor as Craig
turned on to his back and frantically pushed at the front of his shorts,
even although he was just surfacing from the midst of what he knew was the
best dream he would be able to recall for some time and although this had
never happened, he knew that to avoid awkward questions, he really needed
to take his cock out of his shorts to avoid making a mess that might be
detected. Scrabbling frantically eyes half closed with sleep, the sensation
building at the base of his penis was spreading to encompass his entire
groin, suddenly he panicked and wondered if he actually needed to
pee... Groggily he ruled it out... His abdomen had now tightened and his
buttocks had begun to tense in that rhythmic way they do, he managed to jam
fingers from each hand under the waistband of the shorts and slide them
down his hips, his cock caught momentarily in the elastic then slapped back
against his flat torso, he was well past the point of no return and knew
it. No sooner had he steadied his body against the bed with one hand and
his penis with the other, he erupted like never before, the feeling was
immense waves of pleasure pulsed up and out, it had never felt like this,
his entire body was tensed yet writhing at the same time. His legs, bent at
the knee and unable to spread any further than the waistband of the shorts
held at mid thigh would allow, his arms tensed to steady a body which
seemed for the moment to have a life of its own and his midriff, the
muscles of his abdomen stood out like never before, sinews stood out under
the dusky skin of his shoulders and chest... All the while he could feel
the warm wet streams of semen and sperm land against his stomach and chest,
he held his throbbing pulsing penis with a finger and thumb until the spate
subsided. Slowly he began to relax, muscle-by-muscle, he lay back against
the cool sheets and wondered; if that was the dream, what about the
reality? He thought about cleaning up but decided to just lie for the
moment and imagine it wasn't just his love that coated the smooth expanse
of his adolescent torso.

An arc of sepia from the streetlight slashed through the dark bedroom, the
bar of yellowed light only a few inches wide made contact with the floor
just short of the bed, it travelled over a pair of trainers, then up the
side of the bed were it cast its jade glow over rumpled summer sheets,
further now to a bare thigh then up across a perfectly balanced plump
scrotum and the base of a slowly shrinking penis, wispy brown pubic hair,
barely seen in the poor light then, a slender thread that glistened between
hair and skin like filigree even in this tainted light, onwards up to a
belly button adorned with several healthy streaks of milky, watery
whiteness, all glistening in the night time light. Breathing gently now,
Cameron had no idea why he'd awoke, an imperative had taken over and he'd
felt the strongest urge, he didn't know why and really; did a boy need an
excuse? But still, this time felt different in a way he couldn't quite
identify. He thought he'd lie for a bit and bask in the imagined yet
surprisingly vivid memory of his friend Craig before cleaning up; it seemed
like the right thing to do.