Dreaming Away

This marks six nights in a row that I have dreamed of my owned k. Each one has been different, varying in setting, tone, length, depth, wildness. But in each I have dominated her and she has submitted to me. Sometimes it's been a sparkle in her eyes and a catch in her sigh. Sometimes it's been her surrendering her body as a vessel for my lusts. Sometimes it's been her discovering her own inner strength again through me. Sometimes it's been her active and mischevous seeking of ways to serve. Sometimes it's been an achingly beautiful laying bare, an offering of her whole self.

Sometimes I've awoken in woozy reverie, sometimes in stark shock at the power of her love, always with a turgid and pulsating cock that seems to want to point, dowsing-rod-like, to the wellspring of My desire, far to the southeast.

I dream of my splendid k very often, but this is the longest stretch of nights on end that I've ever had. It may have something to do with our schedules being out of sync often lately. Or it may be that my dreamlife - that shadow self that sees through the mind's eye - has no use for anything or anyone else any more. Why dream of anything but the woman I spend my waking days thinking of? What subject more crucial, more intricate, more wonderful?