You Are My Upstream

In this Sunday night afterglow, you and I are all warm contentment and tingly echoing hums. The springs and slats have held again. And now, after all that clutching and thrashing and laughing and such, I don't have anything in mind — not even too sure I have a mind at this point and almost positive that I don't care — except that I want to hold you close, your small back to my bigger belly, my arm wrapped around you and your arm wrapped around my arm, and to listen to our breathing slowly return to normal. I can't feel your heart because my beating heart seems to shake us both. But I can feel my damp cock shrinking, ticking, twitching like a clock winding down to rest. Are cocks in 2003 wind-up or battery? I kiss your neck, smell your hair.

You're already asleep. I close my eyes and drift off, feeling your hand clutching my hand, feeling us both humming with energy. I start to dream.

At first the pictures in my head are confused and random. Green swirls. Red sparkles. Shapes change into other shapes, eventually forming the background to a more realistic dream where you and I are walking through a forest. The trees disappear into the sky. They seem hundreds of years old, as if they've always been there. The trail we follow winds between the trees and the lichen-covered rocks. We come upon a deep stream and a small waterfall. Suddenly naked — since dreams are like that — we dive into the water. Sun breaks through the trees in streaks, lighting up the water in patches. I open my eyes underwater and see you swimming by beneath the water, your red hair billowing like a cloud behind you.



I catch you near the waterfall. You sit on a mossy flat rock with your chest, shoulders, and head out of the water. I'm a fish. In this dream, I don't have to breathe air. I can spread your small pale legs under the green dream water. I can slip slowly between your thighs and begin to lick your labia, oddly pink in a world of greenish light. The sound of the waterfall is an oddly distant roar. Your purr, though out of the water, descends through your legs, through your pussy, and I hear it transmitted from your wet slick lips to my own. I suck your clit into my mouth. I swirl it; I bop it back and forth. I slip my tongue inside you and swirl. You taste of saltwater taffy. Your fingers are in my freshwater hair.



In this dream I am aware that my cock is hard. It's no big deal, floating there as I eat you, make you hum and purr and clutch my head between your thighs. But it's there and I know it's there. And then… and then I feel something touch it. A fish? Is it a nibble or a touch? A touch. No, a caress. A stroke. It seems more like a hand than a fish. It's rubbing the head of my cock, running fingers along the shaft as if to trace the veins. I feel so hard that I ache.

That's just when I wake up. My cock is hard. And I realize that you are awake and that it is you stroking my cock. It has nestled between your legs. You can reach between your legs to rub the head of my cock, to run your fingers along the shaft, to rub moisture from your pussy onto the head of my cock, to press my cock into your clit.

It's Monday morning and time to swim.

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