January 4, 2016
The dream came again last night; for the third time now and I'm at my wit's end about what to do. I know that it must be linked in some way to Paul's death nearly a year ago, but that doesn't help in knowing that fact. It's both the most erotic and disturbing dream that I've ever had.
I remember Dr. Bond telling me during my grief counciling that I should record my dreams and seek meaning in the act, so I'll write the details here and hope that in the telling, even to myself, that I might understand better what it all means. God, I hope so.
I awake to the feel of hands on my shoulders; somehow I know that it is not yet dawn, and I can see little in the darkness of my bedroom. I can feel the heavy comforter over me, my bed under my body and know that it is indeed the bed that Paul and I shared for the more than 20 years of our marriage. The hands are light, caressing as they move along my arms and the comforter moves as the phantom hands move lower, to surround my wrist. I should be afraid, but I know these hands and that there are two pair. My arms are pulled out, away from me as the comforter slips lower and I realize that I am nude as the coolness of the room caresses my breasts and my nipples harden.... the hands disappear and just as suddenly, I feel it... the sensation of lips on my breasts, soft kisses that tease before finding my nipples and begin to suckle. My hands rise to cradle two heads and my lips part in a soft gasp as I urge the lips onward, my back arches into the suction. The hands return and stroke down my belly and sides... lower... but they stop at the dark curls of my pubs... moving along my hips and down my thighs... I feel the hands slide along my inner thigh and pressure pulls my unresisting thighs apart before I feel fingertips caress higher and almost... almost touch my dampness.
One of the mouths releases my nipple with a soft pop and the bed shifts. I know what is to come and I turn my head to the side and my lips part to accept the hard shaft that touches them... sliding inside as I close my mouth and begin to suck. This is disturbing as I rarely gave Paul oral and was not fond of it, but I do it eagerly here; hips moving slowly as the tip brushes the back of my mouth and I swallow to take it deeper.
Then, the other mouth is gone and I feel a body settle between my legs... I know what is going to happen and then it is there... and a second shaft presses against my sex. I'm so wet that it penetrates smoothly and easily... hips thrust to set fully inside and I gasp around the one in my mouth. With my two phantom lovers, I am claimed without resistance and all that I hear is the sound of bodies moving together and my own soft gasps between the strokes into my mouth.
Then, I hear the damning words a moment before I wake and sit up in my bed; my heart pounding and my body aching for the touch of a man... of men... the words are, "Yes Mom."
Wgat I would like to do is to find two writers to fill the roles of a mother's sons and craft a story of passion, taboo and discovery as her sons discover the diary that details the dream and act upon it. The details of what happens and the kinks/perversions that are included are open to discussion, and I'm very open to a significant number of them as the three move into a deeper and lasting relationship as lovers. Perhaps going so far as the mother becoming a semi-sub to them and their needs because it meets some deep seated need of her own.
The pace of the story would depend upon my potential partners, but Ideally, I would like to see at least 1 post a week from all three and if we can get more, it's icing on the cake. The important thing is that the characters mesh well and the story flow in a way that all three players find something that makes them want to write it.
So, anyone interested?