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Art is in my DNA so I'm always creating. Whether it be photographs, paintings or poetry also known as my three favorite P words, I'm always making & creating something. I laugh sometimes because I think of how much it will be worth when I'm gone. Lately though, I've been having this one dream over and over. Strong, intense, and sexually invigorating. I've tried to wake up out of it once, think of something else and go back to sleep thinking the dream would go away; it didn't. It stayed with me and replayed itself every time I went to sleep. So much so that I felt like I had to write them down and re-enact it on paper, scene to scene, from first heat to sudden orgasm. It always starts out with me having dinner by myself in a quiet yet romantic restaurant. For whatever reason I'm dressed as if I'm on a date or waiting for someone and possibly got stood up; I'm not bothered though. In fact, I'm smiling, enjoying my dinner and the seat beneath me has a wet spot because my thongs couldn't possibly hold back all that juice. I'm waiting for him, I know he's coming. I take the last bite of my dinner and as I look up he appears. Caramel lips surrounded by a perfect mustache smile at me, broad shoulders connected to muscled arms and beautiful hands extended towards me... no words are said... the natural command of COME WITH ME is in the air silently. I dab the sides of my mouth, taste buds already turned on but looking forward to the upcoming plate; I got up & slid my hand in his allowing him to lead me with faith. His car was parked outside... luxurious 'n big, tinted windows so dark you couldn't see inside.... perfect place to do whatever we were trying to hide. We got in the back seat and he kissed me hungrily. Ripped off my panties 'n took what what his. My decadent moans and the car swaying slow let everyone know it was going down FA SHO! We rocked, we moaned, we came together on time... fell asleep on his soft leather seats—it was so divine.
After I wrote out this dream, I felt a bigger release... like it was a story that needed to get out of me so to speak. Then I asked myself, was this meant to be? Should I turn this into an actual book... or maybe a play or a movie? What does this really mean?
Questions swirled in my head all day as I wondered more about my dream and what it meant to write it out. Later on that night, something came over me. I was literally in my dream, dressed at a restaurant, soaking wet 'n horny... looking up at his smiling face! I dreamed you... How can you be here? How can I be here?
Minutes later in his car as I slid his hard 'n chocolate wood inside my wetness, I let out a wanton moan that sung a song to the gods that made this moment true. The power of my pen allowed me to create something I never had before and clearly needed.
I made this real. My pen gave me the one thing I needed... LUST... riding, sucking, fucking, cumming... it was all real.
But what does this mean? Everything I dream, if I decide to write about it, will that make it real and if so do I want that?!
I couldn't and didn't want to make a decision about it... I just wanted him to fuck me!
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