FANTASY | EROTICA | DREAMS | SYMBOLISM | PART 1 OF 2
My Sweet Wet Dream | Part 1
An erotic tale between a mortal and a supernatural creature
I woke up with a sticky moisture between my legs. After what seems like forever I had a wet dream. And I remember everything about it. My hard-on is still raging but it looks like it is cooling off. If I don’t write down that sweet, surreal dream I will forget it. So, here it is:
I found myself in a dark and moist forest. No stars, no Moon, no nothing. I felt scared and lost, since I did not yet know it was a dream. The silence of that forest was intoxicating.
I tried meditating, to relax and breathe better. Soon the forest opened up to me as I opened up to it. Like my eyes and ears adjusted to its dim lights and whispers.
And my sensitive nose started picking sweet, sexy scents that smelled like delicious squirt juices sprinkled all over the forest.
Horny water nymphs and playful fairies started emerging from behind the trees and the streams, observing me timidly. A stranger, now a horny stranger, among their fairy kingdom.
For a while we remained like this. Then a tall Elf started approaching. She looked confident but not over-confident. She had long platinum hair the color of the Moon.
And her eyes glowed in the dark like yellow stars. She wore a skimpy outfit and had curves in all the right places.
She stopped a few meters away from me and slightly bowed her head to greet me. Everything about her suggested ‘gentle’ and ‘confident’ at the same time. Then she smiled and the entire forest lit. A faint green light came out of nowhere. It was from curious glowing fairies who came close to witness the occasion.
The Elf’s succulent lips, which looked like lip shaped cherries, and probably tasted sweeter, moved:
“Elen síla lúmenn’ omentielvo. Laurië lantar lassi súrinen…”
Since I am a Tolkien geek I knew what that meant. It is Quenya for “A star shines on the hour of our meeting. Like gold fall the leaves in the wind…” Was that a traditional welcome for guests? I had no idea.
Then she noticed my hard-on. Her eyes were fixed on it. Her mouth opened and let out a childish giggle. Blood rushed into my cheeks, not out of shame but due to how genuine and non-mocking that little laugh of hers was.
My meditation allowed me to take control of the dream, i.e. make it lucid, but I did not want to control her at all. I wanted to surrender into her arms and have her make me her sex toy, even if she was a figment of my imagination. Then make her my own sex toy. The sole thing I changed about her was her language.
“You look tired fellow traveler. Would you kindly accept my hospitality for tonight? My tree house is a few trees over there. I live on my own. My name is Isilya.” That means ‘Luna’ in Quenya.
We soon reached her home. I did not expect it would be so comfy. Everything inside was natural, from elements of the forest. And it felt like they were gifts of the forest that were given freely rather than taken. No cement, no bricks, no toxicity, and goddess it smelled so fucking nice!
“Thank you for inviting me in to your cosy place Isilya. My name is Lars. Nice to meet you.” ‘And smell you,’ I thought, and moments later I wondered if she was a telepath. She giggled again and her cheeks blushed adorably. Crap!
She poured me a drink which smelled and tasted how I imagine the nectar of the ancient Greek gods did, and sat beside me on a sofa made of wood and soft cool grass that somehow remained fresh. She kept glancing at my hard-on. Since by now I knew it was a dream, I was not hiding it.
She moisturized her lips with her tongue and her face had an eager, anticipating expression. She started playing with my hair, she smiled in a way that made her glow even more and, body language wise, she ‘let go’ to let me take the lead. I did, but slowly. Dream or not, I wanted to have my fun the way I always have it.
Her shy, awkward smiles drove me crazy. I wanted to devour her whole, but I did not lose my cool. This pre-foreplay ritual of ours lasted for quite some time. I kept leaking precum, I smelled her pregrool and then also saw it slowly dripping down her thighs. I wanted to have a taste of it right away, but I was patient.
I wondered if all your cum can leak as precum from too much edging and giggled as well. I gradually turned bolder. I kissed her like a wildfire kisses a dry forest, though I started with cheek and side-lip gentle kisses. She tasted immensely better and sweeter than her nectar drink.
She fully let go into my arms and begged me to take her, she pleaded to violate all her orifices. She even shed some tears from the anticipation. I wiped them, stroke her moonlit hair, and petted her everywhere except her genitals and tits. She closed her eyes and slightly opened her mouth.
I did not do this to torture her or myself, but to enhance our pleasure and fun. It worked. I slowly removed her forest-bits made bra and admired her nipples. They were so hard and swollen that they looked like if you pricked them with a pin they would burst. I stroke tenderly her breasts but without touching her nipples. I left them for last.
One of them started secreting a milk-looking substance. I knew then that she was at her limit, so I very gently played with her nipples, starting with me breathing close to them, then passing my tongue right over them, for her just to feel its heat, and afterward licked the milk from her right nipple — it tasted like liquid bliss — with the tip of my tongue while barely making contact with it. Her back arched and she purred like a kitten.
Then I nipped that nipple with my teeth slightly, like a month old kitten would. She whimpered from pleasure, arched her back further and begged me “Harder please! Please!” and tried -in vain- to pull my head closer to her chest.
She tried to play with her pussy but I kept her hands away from it. Not so quick Isilya dear. I finally decided to give her a little gift. I bit her nipple harder. Her orgasm was explosive. Her squirt erupted like a geyser, semi-blocked by her undies.
I swiftly removed her undies, opened her thighs wide and started savoring her heavenly juices but without touching her exquisite platinum air-stripped pussy with either hands or mouth. The sublime taste of her drove me over the edge and I almost came right there. I contained it though. My Virya was meant only for this immortal beauty. It would not go to waste.
All the while she was screaming in Quenya and in wordless cries the mother and father of all pleasures and nirvanas. I imagine the Sirens that enchanted Odysseus sang or cried sounds like this. She enchanted me too, but I was in a safe mind, not about to get ship-wrecked.
After what seemed like ages of getting my fill of her Elysian juices, her delectable squirt with plenty of clear pee mixed in, and she regained her breath, I sat behind her again, still with my hard-on raging even harder now. I felt some pain due to the blood that had gathered in it, and truly felt the meaning of ‘rock hard.’
She stood up, used something green to wipe her thighs, looked at me with a determined look, and said:
“My turn.”
A story by Nikolaos Skordilis My first ever erotica with fantasy combined. I’ve written both genres, but not in the same story. I hope you enjoyed it.
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