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Taking Risks: Writing with Wild Abandon

fitbit-image-2-writing-wit-wild-abandonimg_6549That’s right! You might as well get used to it. I’m on a writing high at the moment, just over the halfway point with NaNoWriMo 2016 and loving every minute of it. So it stands to reason that you, my lovelies, are going to get a few of my navel-gazy, ‘gawd I love to write posts.’ For those of you who just stepped outside your caves for the first time in awhile, NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month, the object being – you guessed it – writing an entire novel in one month. I joyously participate every year if I possibly can by taking risks, by writing wildly, recklessly and eccastically for a whole glorious month.

 

I have to admit that when NaNoWriMo comes around, all bets are off. The house gets cleaned even less often than it usually does. The garden clean-up goes on hold. I drink lots of coffee, eat lots of one-handed meals, and reach for insane word counts. NaNoWriMo is the only time of year that I generate almost as many words on a daily basis as I do when I go to Lyme Regis every year on writer’s retreat. To be honest, I’m beginning to think that planning the time, setting November aside, making that effort to focus in and write a novel in a month is going to become at least as essential to my writing year as the retreat.

 

The thing is, each year I do NaNoWriMo, I take more risks and I write more innovatively. As a result, I come away from the experience a better writer. It’s not so much about word count. There are days when a few paragraphs are so essential that I may get nothing else done because they need to be perfect. When they are, that’s a victory in itself. What it is about is taking risks in a safe container. I have a month, only a month, and for some strange reason, I’ve always thought of November as a particularly short month. To me it always seems even shorter than February. Maybe that’s because it’s the last chance to breathe before the holiday season hits like a battering ram and there’s no slowing until after January first. All I know is that if I’m doing NaNoWriMo, I love, love, LOVE November! If I’m not doing NaNoWriMo, I hate, hate HATE November. It’s cold its bleak, it’s wet and windy and the days are short and dark and you know with that sense of cold in deep in your bones that summer is not well and truly over, and even Indian crest-05e1a637392425b4d5225780797e5a76Summer has had its last painful gasps. BUT absolutely NONE of that matters when I’m writing hard.

 

Bring on the coffee! Bring on the novel I’ve always wanted to write, but never had time for in a genre I’ve never been
brave enough to tackle before and I am SO close to nirvana I can almost taste it!

 

This year’s wonderful discovery for me has been something truly amazing with my FitBit. Yes, I know, live by the FitBit,
die by the FitBit, but write by the FitBit??? Oh you betcha!

 

FitBit encourages people to get up and walk 250 steps every hour. Good advice whether you’re a FitBit addict or not. It takes almost no time to do, and it gets me out of the hunched position over the computer. If I’m stuck, it also gives me time to walk through the problem. However, if I’m truly not ready to break, I’ve discovered that I can walk and write on my iPhone at the same time. OK, it ain’t elegant, I’ll admit, but it works! I walk, I write, I live very happily, and healthily in NaNo-land.

 

Eep! My walk alarm just went off. Must! Walk! Steps! And think! Be right back.

 

Yes, now where was I? Right! It’s sort of like a mini timed writing, a mini sprint, in NaNoWroMo terms, only it’s timed by steps rather than minutes. Okay, it’s sloppy and messy, but it works! Besides, sloppy and messy is what writing is all about. It never happens neatly or orderly. It’s either a mad scramble to get it all down fast enough or a pull-your-brain-out through your left nostril effort that leaves you exhausted and raw. Either way, it gets messy. Perhaps that’s why I love it so much, it’s permission to get messy, permission to give over control to those magical 26 letters and those squiggles of punctuation from which great stories, from which ALL stories are formed. Wow! I just gave myself chills!

 

Oh, and if you’re wondering, here’s the blurb for my NaNoWriMo WIP, my first ever scifi novel. Proud much???

 

imagesPiloting Fury Blurb:

“Win the bet and the Fury’s yours. Lose the bet and your ass is mine.” It seemed like a no-brainer, Rick Manning’s
slightly inebriated offer. If he’d been sober, he’d have remembered Diana “Mac” McAlister never lost a bet. All her she life she’d dreamed of buying back her freedom and owning her own starship, and when the Fury’s ne’er-do-well, irritating as hell captain all but hands the Fury to her on a silver platter she figures she can’t lose. But she does. That’s how the best pilot in the galaxy finds herself the indentured 1st mate of a crew that, thanks to her, has doubled in size. Too late, she finds out the Fury is way more than a cargo ship. It’s a ship with a history – a dangerous history, a history Mac’s been a part of for a lot longer that she could imagine, and Rick Manning was not above fixing a bet to get her right at the center of it all, exactly where he needs her to be.

 

The Psychology of Dreams 101 Episode 16

Psychology of Dreams cover12985576_1537272663241009_8777292825525497968_nWelcome to the next instalment of The Psychology of Dreams 101, in which there are rewards for punishments and a return to the dream. I thought this would be the last episode, but as it turns out there is one more, so hang on for the ride.

 

What if you got punished when you didn’t get your dreams right? That’s the dilemma our heroin, Leah, and her psychology of dreams teacher, Al. The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a romp into the sexy unconscious as Leah Kent takes a Psychology of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required Dream Journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys.

 

If you missed episode 15, find it here.

Chapter 16 Taking a Risk

In a spastic tango, Al walked her back against the wall, kissing her as he went – really kissing her as he went, and all the while he nudged and pressed and undulated up close and personal, coaxing and enticing her one step at a time until the wall pressed up tight against her shoulders. He tugged and worried her sweats down over her hips. With a little shake and wriggle of her bottom, they dropped to pool around her feet and she stepped free and gave them a hard kick. With one hand, he dug in his pocket for a condom while with the other he struggled with his fly. Clearly this sort of multi-tasking wasn’t his forte. She uttered an impatient curse, slapped his hands away and made quick work of the snap and zipper, grabbing a double handful of his clenching ass-cheeks as she shoved jeans and boxers down. His cock gave her a stiff salute, and she closed her hand around the shaft and began to squeeze and stroke.

“O God! Oh Christ,” he hissed between gritted teeth, closing his fist around her wrist. “Don’t to that. Jesus, Leah, don’t do that – not yet. I won’t last two minutes if you don’t stop.” He nearly dropped the condom before he managed to roll it on with in between some seriously colorful language, then Leah grabbed him again, reaching between her legs to open herself. She was already slick and swollen. Hell, hadn’t she been horny for him from the beginning? And as much as she wanted to linger, she also wanted to hurry, just in case they got interrupted, just in case this time was no different than the others, just in case this time was no more real.

She gave a little yelp of surprise as he cupped her bare bottom in his hands and lifted her onto him. “I wanted our first time to be long and lingering, Leah.” His voice was breathless and, as he thrust home, he spoke almost as though he’d read her thoughts. “I wanted to make it last. Not gonna happen. We’ve both waited too long for that.” He bit her ear, and she bucked against him, sheathing him still deeper. “We’ll have to save the lingering for the second time.”

“I’m okay with that.” Her words came out in hard little grunts, and then she went back to eating his mouth. She didn’t need it to last. Right now she just needed it to happen, right now she all she wanted was to come with Al inside her. She needed that in the worst sort of way. She’d needed that for what seemed like an eternity. She wrapped her legs around his waist and began to thrust, and he thrust back, groaning as though the very act might have caused him as much pain as it did pleasure. He gave up trying to unbutton her shirt, and she raised her arms so he could drag it off over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her nipples were heavy and aching for his attention, which he gave happily – first with his thumbs, and then with his mouth. He’d barely managed a good hard lick and suck of each in turn, before his whole body tensed and he held his breath, shivering and convulsing as he came, and the tremors of him inside her sent her into her own release with a little cry of surprise, as though she hadn’t actually believed that this time it would really happen.

Their coming was not a graceful act. She bumped her head on the wall. He nearly tripped over his jeans, fallen around his knees, a move that would have taken them both over backward onto the floor if he hadn’t caught his balance at the last minute and, with her still wrapped around him, carried her to the bedroom where he deposited her in the middle of the bed in spite of said jeans around said knees, which turned his efforts into a mincing-stepped shuffle. The man was coordinated. She’d give him that.

“Not on the bed,” she managed weakly. “Don’t put me on the bed. I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to dream.”

“No sleeping happening here,” he said, as he slid out of the rest of his clothing then deposited the used condom in the trash while she grumbled at his sudden, if very brief, absence. That done, he all but fell onto the mattress and wriggled in between her spread legs face first. As he slid his tongue wide and flat all the way from her perineum, in between her swollen labia and right on up to her clit, she wondered, for the briefest of moments, just where the man got his oral skills. From what he’d told her, she’d guess it wasn’t Diana and, if it had been Dr. Clyde, well, that possibility somehow made her all the wetter. That was the last coherent thought she managed about much of anything as he began to circle and suck, circle and nip, cupping her ass cheeks in his hands, pulling her closer to him, as though he wanted to climb up inside her face first – a thought that made her tremble all over.

They came again – several times. In fact she wasn’t sure how many times because her last memory before she lost consciousness was of him fucking her from a spoon position slow and lazy-like — though it was probably less laziness and more exhaustion, but her brain had been too muddled from so much fabulous sex to realize their mistake until she found herself on the roof of the high rise from which Dianna had jumped, from which she had pushed Al and Dr. Clyde. Al sat next to her, and they were both naked.

“I should have known. I should have forced the issue when you took me into the bed,” she said looking out over the lights of the city far below. “And now here we are again, back in the dream.”

“It wouldn’t have made any difference if we’d been in the bed or on the floor or out at the campground. You’re exhausted. No matter how hard you tried to stay awake, sooner or later you were bound to sleep, and when you sleep, you dream.”

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked, figuring she would be terrified of the way they both sat unclothed with their feet dangling off the edge of the roof into nothingness if she hadn’t known that it was a dream.

“I didn’t bring you here,” he replied, “but it’s not too much of a surprise that this is where we ended up, is it? Under the circumstances.”

“Not really, I guess. “Is Doctor Clyde here,” she asked with a quick glance around.

“Nope. Just us this time. No interruptions.”

“No interruptions,” she repeated. “I still don’t understand what’s going on. I told you I wouldn’t dream with you.”

I didn’t plan it if that’s what you think. I wouldn’t lie to you.” He scratched his stubbled chin and shifted just right for her to get a view of his cock at half-mast. “The thing about dreams, Leah, is that we can’t really control them. Derrick and I couldn’t and neither can you and I.”

“But maybe you didn’t tell me the whole truth. Is that possible?”

He shifted and ground his ass against the concrete, laying a protective hand against his growing erection. “I suppose it is. Maybe my unconscious took things out of my hands. You know how the unconscious is.”

“And what are we going to do if we can’t get back?” She surprised herself at how matter of fact she asked the question.

“You can leave whenever you want. All you have to do is wake up. That’s all you ever had to do. You stayed because there was something you wanted from the dream, something your unconscious needed. You know you didn’t sleep, or even dream, any longer than you normally would on any given night. It was just a nightmare, that’s all, a nightmare that seemed unusually real.”

f7c97536836dc44ea7a1faaa02ab1a6a“But what if I can’t? What if I’m stuck? Then what, Al? I know you say it was just a part of the nightmare, but humor me.”

He dropped a gentle kiss on her lips and held her gaze. “You won’t be stuck, Leah. I’m here now. For the first time you’ve finally let me in, and I’ll help you find your way back.”

“Finally let you in? Al, what the hell are you talking about?” Her chest tightened and she felt a chill rise up her spine. “We’ve dreamed together before, that’s why I didn’t want to come back here.” The wind had picked up and the benighted city below seemed even darker than usual. She tried to remember if she’d ever seen the city in daylight.

He rested his hands gently on her shoulders and held her gaze. “Leah, we’ve never dreamed together before. You’ve only just now let me in, and I’m encouraged. I’m hopeful that now you’ll let me take you back, back to the waking world.”

 

The Psychology of Dreams 101 Episode 15

Psychology-of-Dreams-cover12985576_1537272663241009_8777292825525497968_n

 

Welcome to the next instalment of The Psychology of Dreams 101, in which Leah tries to stay awake.

What if you got punished when you didn’t get your dreams right? That’s the dilemma our heroin, Leah, and her psychology of dreams teacher, Al. The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a romp into the sexy unconscious as Leah Kent takes a Psychology of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required Dream Journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys.

 

If you missed episode 14, find it here.

 

 

 

Chapter 15 Staying Awake

“Dream with you one last time? Are you crazy?” The chair went over backward as Leah pushed away from him and edged toward the door shaking her head wildly. “Wasn’t that enough?” She nodded to his dream journal. “Do you really want to end up like Diana and Doctor Clyde? I sure as hell don’t. I couldn’t get out, Al. I couldn’t get out of the goddamned dream until I killed you and Doctor Clyde. What will I have to do to get out of it this time?”

“Leah, listen to me, it won’t be like that — ”

“No! Al, I’m sorry but I can’t. I just can’t.” She threw the door open and fled leaving her dream journal where it had fallen. The damn thing had caused her more grief that she could have ever imagined. She hoped to God she never saw it again.

She drove around the city for a long trying to clear her head, trying to get the thought of what she and Al might do if they dreamed together out of her mind. If it was good, it would be really good, probably deliciously filthy sex. But even great sex wasn’t worth the risk of what could happen if things went bad. Lost in her thoughts as she was, she hadn’t noticed that she’d turned onto US 26 and was now heading up over Mount Hood. Jer stomach summersaulted as she realized she was going to the campground where Al had taken her, that she was going there almost on instinct. For a second she was terrified that this was something Al and Doctor Clyde were forcing her into, and she was still dreaming. But it was broad daylight. The sun was shining, and she was wide-awake. She was certain she was awake.

She pulled into the campground where they had been together in the dream. It seemed so normal in the sunlight. She got out of the car and walked to the place where they had nearly made love. In spite of the nightmarish turn of events, she still tingled at the thought of what could have happened if the dream had been like her fantasies of Al, the ones she’d masturbated to at night alone in her bed. But it hadn’t. For a long time she sat on the grass and listened to the sound of the water flowing over the rocks. Then she got back into her car and drove to Eddie’s Diner.

When she arrived, the lunch crowd had long gone, and there were only a few stragglers dotted throughout the cheerful space serviced by one lone waitress – not the one who had been working in the dream. There were no familiar faces, nor did she expect there to be. She sat in the same booth she’d been in with Al and ordered a Diet Coke and a burger basket, which she ate for courage as much as anything. Once she’d eaten, she’d go back to the Adult Education building and withdraw from the class. She hated the thought of not seeing Al anymore, but there was no way in hell she was going to dream with him, and he didn’t strike her as a man who would take no for an answer – not after all that had happened. By the time she’d finished the last of her fries and paid, she’d made up her mind that she’d just call the administration office, then she didn’t have to go back at all. That was better still, and it took a lot less courage.

Back home, the first thing she did was withdraw from the class, sighting personal reasons. It didn’t take long, then she said a little prayer to all the gods she could think of that she’d never dream again. She didn’t want to dwell on Al, on all of the delicious places her fantasies had led her during her few weeks in the class. She didn’t want to think about where things might have gone if the damn dream hadn’t gotten in the way. But more than anything, she didn’t want to dream ever again.

By the time she’d cancelled the class, she still had hours before bedtime, so she settled in front of her computer with coffee and a Snickers bar. She never came to the end of her work. That was just the way of things, but she was more than a little surprised to find that, while there was the usual avalanche waiting for her, it was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing she didn’t face every morning when she settled into her desk for the day.

It did something to her head to think that while it felt like she’d been away for ages, it had only been one night. She’d woken up in the morning just like she always did. She wasn’t Rip Van Winkle who had slept for twenty years while the world around her went on. She wasn’t sleeping beauty sleeping forever until the handsome prince could kiss her awake. She wasn’t Diana, who had stayed in the dream and died in a coma. She was just someone who’d had the hell scared out of her from the craziest nightmare in the history of nightmares. That was all, just insane nightmares. She tried not to think about how the whole debacle in the dream world ended up in Al’s dream journal instead of her own. She tried not to think about the implications of the two of them dreaming together. She knew he must be excited about the possibilities, but she most certainly was not.

For the first time, she was thankful for the heavy workload, thankful that there was no way she would get it finished. As bedtime came, she decided she wasn’t sleepy and that she would work another hour. She made coffee and kept at the computer. Another hour past, then two. She ordered a pizza from the all-night place that had just opened up the road. By the time it arrived, she was no longer working, but had settled down on the sofa to watch a movie before she went to bed. One movie turned into a marathon and when her alarm went off at 7:00, she was just watching the last of The Truth About Dogs and Cats. She was still not sleepy, she convinced herself. She had lots to do. She showered and went grocery shopping, then she cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom. While she was at it, she vacuumed the whole house. No, she was definitely not sleepy. It was a good time to take advantage of all the energy and do the things she’d been putting off.

By evening, the house was spotless, the laundry clean and folded, the larder full to overflowing and the car was washed and detailed. She’d even cleaned out her closet. She slouched on the sofa listlessly channel surfing with the remote in one hand and a half-drank Diet Coke in the other. Sleep was inevitable, and even as she longed for it, she dreaded it. If she dozed on the couch with the TV on maybe she wouldn’t dream, maybe she wouldn’t get comfortable enough to go to that unwanted place – with or without Al. Still, no matter how uncomfortable she made herself, she couldn’t keep from nodding off, then jerking back into consciousness with her heart pounding in her chest as she drank more caffeine and doubled her efforts with the remote. It happened once, then again, and then the third time, it was the ringing of the doorbell that dragged her back to consciousness with a little yelp of surprise. Feeling muzzy-headed from lack of sleep and her body’s efforts to force the issue, she stumbled to the door before she considered who it might be, a mistake she regretted when she saw it was Al.

“They told me in admin that you’d dropped the class.”

When she only nodded, he sucked a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Leah, please don’t shut me out. Just listen for a second.”

“I’m not dreaming with you and that’s that.” She turned away from the open door, and he followed her in, shutting it behind him.

“Then make love with me.”

She whirled to face him unable to do more than offer a couple of fish gasps before he closed on her, took her into his arms and kissed her softly enough not to feel threatening, hard enough, insistent enough, to get her body’s full attention.

“Al I –”

He kissed her again, this time with just a flick of his tongue. “Sh! Don’t talk, just listen. Haven’t we both wanted each other almost from the beginning? I mean the dream we shared wasn’t all about Derrick and Diana, some of it was about our attraction to each other, about us never quite being able to connect because he kept interrupting us – Derrick’s I mean. He kept insisting that neither of us would get any satisfaction, any relief until we were punished.” He curled a finger under her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “I think we’ve both been punished more than enough, don’t you?”

“It was a dream, Al. You said it yourself, Doctor Clyde is dead.” She laid a hand on his chest, pretty sure she should have pushed him away, but instead she just left it there next to the pounding of his heart.

“Maybe so. Maybe I did think I deserved to be punished on some unconscious level, maybe I projected my feelings of guilt onto you. I don’t know. What I do know is that this dream, because it belonged to both of us, is way too complex to analyze by the book. Besides dream symbols often have more than one meaning.” He kissed her again and f7c97536836dc44ea7a1faaa02ab1a6apulled her close enough that she could feel his erection. “I’ve been punished. You’ve been punished, and we both know that the reason we agreed to endure Derrick’s hypnosis was because we were horny as hell and not getting any relief. I think we can remedy that now, don’t you?”

Suddenly she was wide-awake. Leah had to admit she wanted Al in the worst way. It was her crush on him that had caused her to enroll in his class in the first place. But she’d certainly gotten way more than she’d ever bargained for. Even that went out of her head as he slid his hands up under her t-shirt and down into the waistband of her sweat pants to cup her ass cheeks in a large calloused caress. Wide-awake! She was definitely wide-awake! She was worse that a teenager where sex was concerned. She got it so seldom, and on those days when she was particularly horny, she was pretty damn good at keeping sex for one going as long as her fantasies held out, and that was awhile. Many of those fantasies, she reminded herself, were about Al. Oh yes! She could stay awake for this.

 

The Psychology of Dreams 101: Chapter 14

Psychology-of-Dreams-cover12985576_1537272663241009_8777292825525497968_n

 

Welcome to the next instalment of The Psychology of Dreams 101. Leah may be awake at last, but a confrontation with Al proves that things are far from simple and far from finished.

What if you got punished when you didn’t get your dreams right? That’s the dilemma our heroin, Leah, and her psychology of dreams teacher, Al. The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a romp into the sexy unconscious as Leah Kent takes a Psychology of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required Dream Journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys.

 

If you’ve missed Episode 13, find it here. 

 

 

Chapter 14 Reality Bites

“How the hell did you do it?” His voice rose just enough to make her pulse jump and her skin prickle. “How did you invade my dreams?”

Her hands were less than steady as she flipped through the pages of his dream journal. In fact, by the time she realizes what she was looking at, they were shaking so hard that the risk of ripping pages out was very real. There was the dream she’d written with Dr. Clyde sleeping next to her – when she thought she had finally woken up, there was the dream in Eddie’s Diner, there were the dreams of her splayed across the doctor’s desk, there was the dream of her and Al in the darkened campground on Mount Hood. They were all there and all exactly in her words, as far as she could tell — though it was definitely Al’s writing.

She threw her own journal down on his desk. “That — all of that, was in my journal before I woke up. How the fuck did it get in yours?”

He picked up her notebook as though he was afraid it might bite him and opened it very carefully, then flipped through the pages. At last he looked up at her. “Jesus! You didn’t even give me my privacy in the shower?” He stabbed the entry of the masturbation dream with an accusatory finger, and she jerked the journal away from him.

“What about you? What about what you and Dr. Clyde did to me, all the things you did to me, always telling me the only way I could get out of the goddamned dream was to take my punishment, and that punishment always involved you two controlling me, doing something filthy to me? Hmm? What about that? And what about you stealing my dreams, did you ever think of that?”

“You killed us! You fucking killed us!”

His accusation, felt like he’d punched her. She drug in a shaky breath and slumped back in her chair. “You were holding me prisoner,” she replied softly. “Besides it was just a dream. You don’t look any worse for the wear. What about Dr. Clyde, he’s okay, isn’t he? Have you talked to him?”

“He’s dead!” Al dropped into his chair and ran a hand through his already wild hair. “He’s dead.”

The room spun and Leah felt like she might pass out, but before she could ask, Al spoke, avoiding her gaze. ” He died a few months after Diana. I … I haven’t thought about him, about them in a long time.” He glanced up at her and then back down at his desk. “Neither of them came out of the coma.” He nodded to his dream journal. “What you dreamed, what we both dreamed, is true, I mean about Derrick and me being lovers, about our experiments, about us both wanting Diana. I just don’t know how the hell you knew it all, how you dreamed it all.”

“I don’t know either,” she whispered. “All I know is that I was desperate to get out of the dream, and I couldn’t wake up. Every time I thought I was awake, it was only another part of the dream, and I couldn’t get free. You both kept telling I needed to be punished, but I didn’t. I haven’t done anything to deserve punishment.”

“Of course you haven’t, you’ve done nothing. But Derrick and I, on the other hand …” His voice drifter and he rubbed his eyes.

“I can’t see that you have any reason to be punished for what happened. It wasn’t your fault,” Leah said.

“And yet you killed me.” This time he did hold her gaze.

“It was a dream. I was trapped.”

“I know, and that was petty of me to say. Still dream images have meaning to our psyches. Either you believed I deserved to die or I believed it. Maybe we both did.”

“Why the hell would I think that? I knew none of this when I went to bed expecting more dreams about begonias or dogs and Big Macs.”

He didn’t reply. For a long moment they sat in silence lost in their own thoughts. She kept her eyes on her closed dream journal, but she could feel his gaze on her. At last he rolled his shoulders in an effort to release tension, then spoke. “Our experiments, Derrick and mine, they were real, just exactly like I described to you in my … in our dream, but no one else was involved in our dream sharing experiments. They worked with us – Derrick and me. We’d not perfected our technique. We’d not actually tried what we were using on each other until Dianna, and I honestly don’t know how Derrick pulled Diana into the dream. He was the one who knew hypnosis, but still, it shouldn’t have worked. He shouldn’t have been able to get her there.”

“The obvious answer is that she wanted in, that she thought she’d find what she was looking for there.”

“I can see that,” he replied. “That makes sense, but what doesn’t make sense is how you and I shared a dream when you had no idea.”

She ran a finger over the paisley pattern on her journal, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. “I wanted to dream. I wanted to … I wanted to please you by having interesting dreams.”

To her surprise, he chuckled softly. “Is that the reason for the masturbation dream?”

She blushed hard. “It was a dream. I can’t help what my unconscious throws at me in the middle of the night.”

“You should read the dreams I’ve had about you.”

Her pulse rate accelerated. “You dream about me, I mean other than … that.” She nodded to his journal.

“Oh yes, I dream about you, and the dreams were very pleasant until that.” He mirrored her nod to his notebook, then tugged at his collar. “Some of that was not too bad either.”

“But Dr. Clyde kept interrupting.”

To her surprise Al smiled and then shook his head.  “He always was a kinky bastard, always wanting to have sex in strange places or invite someone he found attractive to join us. He would have found you attractive, Leah,” he added quickly. “He would have done exactly as he did in the dream, wormed his way right in and wanted a filthy threesome, the filthier the better.”

“Then he would have approved of the dream?”

“Except for the part where you pushed him off the rooftop.”

There was nothing she could say to that, and once again the two sat in uncomfortable silence. At last Al spoke.

“I left the dream to get help, like I said, but what was different is that while in your dream he left with me, in reality he didn’t. He wouldn’t leave Diana, and after that first time, he wouldn’t let me back in. I tried everything I knew, but he wouldn’t let me in. Maybe he couldn’t. I don’t know. I just know I couldn’t get back to them.”

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“It was … unnerving to see him alive again, to see the continuation of his life as though he’d never died.”

“Then none of that part was true, I mean of him interacting with us.”

He shook his head. “It seemed so real though.”

Again the two sat lost in their own thoughts, and it felt like that minute of silence people are always having out of respect for the dead. Maybe it was.

“What do you think it means”? Leah asked.

“I wish I knew. That you and I can dream share without any preliminary prep, without any hypnosis is astounding. It took Derrick and I nearly three years to dream together, and even then it wasn’t without lots of prep, drugs more often than not, and hypnosis, well that was our last bit of experimentation. Even with all that, we were only managing to share anything more than a few images maybe fifty percent of the time.” Al looked down at his journal then back at her. “I never continued our experiments. I’ve never wanted to, never thought I could, but now…”

“Now you think maybe you should.”

He nodded, gaze still locked on her.

“What if it turns real, like it did with Diana? What if you die there?”

“I don’t have a death wish. Do you?” he asked.

“Neither did Dr. Clyde, did he?”

“He wanted Diana.” The muscles around his left cheek tightened and twitched. “It was way more than wanting her. He was obsessed with her and Derrick always got what he wanted.” The man’s jaw looked like it was set in iron.

“That bothered you.”

“Sometimes. Sometimes it did. With Diana, well …”

“You wanted her too.”

When he didn’t answer, she asked, “if he would have let you back into the dream, would you have fought him for her?”

He shook his head. “There was no need. I knew that from the beginning.”

She shifted in her seat, an uncomfortable tightness growing in her chest. “Then how did you know about the rooftop, about her jumping if you couldn’t get back into the dream?”

“I didn’t,” he said. “I didn’t know what happened in their dream until this.” He gently stroked his journal.

Suddenly it seemed hot in the room, and it was hard to breathe. “Then you think I saw what really happened then?”

f7c97536836dc44ea7a1faaa02ab1a6a“I’m sure of it.” He pushed back his chair and came to kneel next to her. “It feels like closure I never got. It feels like answers that I never had.”

“I’m glad, that’s good. So then it’s all over, and I can go back to dreaming about begonias and dogs eating my Big Mac, right? I never thought I’d say it, but if I never have another dream more interesting than that, I’ll be a happy camper.”

When he made no effort to move from his position on his knees in front of her, she fought the urge to push her chair back away from him. “What?”

The man was staring at her like she had two heads, and the look alone was enough to clench the nerves in her belly that hadn’t fully relaxed since this whole damn dream sharing started. “Al, I can go back to my boring dreams now can’t I?”

“Leah,” he took her hands in his in a fervent motion that caused her dream journal to slide onto the floor with a loud kathunk. “Leah, I know this is not what you want to hear, and I’ll understand if you tell me no, but I need you to dream with me one last time.”

 

The Psychology of Dreams 101 Part 12

Psychology of Dreams cover12985576_1537272663241009_8777292825525497968_nAfter a week’s hiatus in which I was 30,000 feet above the Greenland — at least for part of it, I’m happy to offer a new episode of The Psychology of Dreams 101. When last we left our intrepid dreamers, a strap-on-clad Leah had just taken charge. As we near the climax of our tale (you see what I did there 😉 Leah does way more than take charge by taking a risk that may cost them all dearly.

What if you got punished when you didn’t get your dreams right? That’s the dilemma our heroin, Leah, and her psychology of dreams teacher, Al. The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a romp into the sexy unconscious as Leah Kent takes a Psychology of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required Dream Journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys.

 

 

If you’ve missed Episode 11, find it here. 

 

 

Chapter 12 Into the Abyss

Leah felt Al’s guttural groan against the dildo, the vibration of which penetrated deep behind her pubic bone, the urgent sound of his need penetrating her as surely as she planned to penetrate him and, she realized for the first time that she would penetrate him, that she could actually do it. Not only could she, but she wanted to, needed to if she were ever to escape the dream. But the sound of his growing arousal was enough to shift her attention from what Al was doing to the strap-on to what Dr. Clyde was now doing to Al’s ass. He knelt on the floor behind him, hunched at an unnatural angle because of Al’s position in front of her. To accommodate Clyde’s efforts, Al had lifted his buttocks as high as he could and still continue his ministrations to her dildo. Clyde spat onto his fingers and teased and worried Al’s tight backside with little circular strokes and tiny intimations of breaching. With the other hand, he caressed and kneaded Al’s butt cheeks, easing them apart to expose more fully the dark clench and release.

“Al was my lover once,” Clyde said, his voice thick with arousal, even in his efforts to sound matter-of-fact. “Did he tell you that? Did he tell you we were lovers before Diana?”

Al flinched and his jaws tightened around the dildo until the muscles below his cheekbone twitched, and Leah was glad the strap-on was not flesh and blood.

“No. No he didn’t tell me that,” she replied, cupping Al’s face, stroking his cheek until he relaxed, until the tension left his shoulders, and he resumed his efforts. Clearly the good doctor’s little reveal was something Al didn’t really want discussed.

“Not that it matters,” she said, curling her fingers in Al’s hair again, this time more gently. “I’m not one to judge people by their pasts.”

“We were good together. Our situation was ideal,” Clyde continued. “Until Diana came between us. We both wanted her, didn’t we Al?”

Al didn’t respond but doubled his efforts against the dildo, and once again she stroked him, this time along his neck and throat. But Clyde kept talking in spite of Al’s discomfort – maybe because of it.

“You see, ours was just a relationship of convenience. We provided a much-needed service to each other, and it didn’t hurt that it was really good, did it Al?”

She wished Clyde would shut up, but he continued. “As you can imagine, we didn’t have much of a life, either of us. There was no time for it with our research. Then one night, we stayed over at the facility. Well actually it was closer to morning than it was night. We dreamed together. That was the first time we realized we could, and it was hotter than hell – the dream was, I mean, and we were in it together. It was the most amazing foreplay you can imagine, Leah, because there are no limits to what you can do in a dream. You can be Superman. You can fly, you can breathe beneath water; you can even have two cocks if it strikes your dream fancy. And when we came out of it, well we all but fucked each other’s brains out. You can’t imagine what it felt like, really you can’t.”

It certainly wasn’t the dream-sharing package she was having, Leah thought. In her dream there was no satisfaction to be had, and she was stuck with these two guilt riddled bastards and the ghost of Diana. Speaking of …

“Diana, well she was a grad student in biology.” Clyde continued. “It was love at first sight for both of us, wasn’t it Al? We both fantasized about what it would be like to dream with her, what the sex would be like afterwards. It became an obsession, I suppose, maybe even a little bit of a competition to see who could get her attention. Of course in the meantime, we were fucking each other just to, you know, get rid of all that tension.” He offered a little chuckle tinged with bitterness that Leah could almost taste. “I was the one who decided to tell her about our experiments, about the sex, about how powerful the dream was. Well,” he said softly, “you know how persuasive I was. I had no trouble getting her to dream with me. The problem was getting her to stop. Getting her to stop …” He shoved a finger home hard and dark moon image_xl_6338206Al flinched. Leah decided it was time to take back control.

“Shut up Clyde. I don’t care if the two of you fucked a whole damn football team in your bloody research. All I care about is getting out of this goddamned dream. Al stand up,” she commanded.

He pulled away, stumbling to his feet, his hand resting protectively against his erection. She kissed him hard and deep and demanding until he yielded and gasped into her mouth, and she heard Clyde’s mirroring gasp in reply. Then she took Al’s hand and guided him, trousers still down around his knees, to bend over the desk. She carefully positioned him so that his arms were stretched above his head, fingers curled around the far end of the desk, his hips jutting over the opposite end enough so that his cock wasn’t trapped beneath his body. She grabbed Clyde by the hair and tugged him, still on his knees to kneel behind Al. “Now then, I asked you to make him ready. I didn’t ask you to hurt him. Nor did I ask for your commentary.” She nodded to Al’s exposed backside. “Go on. If the two of you were lovers, then you know what to do, what he’ll like, what will make it easier for him to accomodate me and enjoy me. And Clyde, I don’t give a shit if this is your dream of not. As long as you’re here, I will punish you if you disobey me again.” To emphasize her point, she gave him a brisk thwak across his half-exposed dapper ass with the flogger, making sure he felt the sting. He gasped and grabbed at his crotch, and she admired the bright pink welts she had somehow known exactly how to administer.

“Don’t touch your cock,” she said. “Do as I say or I’ll see that you never get any satisfaction in this dream.”

The man flinched as though she had gut punched him, and she suddenly got it. She totally got it. “That’s it, isn’t it, Clyde? You haven’t had any satisfaction since your last big dream encounter, have you?”

His lack of a reply was all the answer she needed. “And that’s why you’re so eager to help Al and me with our little dream dilemma. He struggled to meet her gaze, color blazing across his cheeks, but he said nothing.

“Well then, if you’re here, you’ll do as I say and we’ll all hope for the best.”

And just like that, the good doctor got down to some serious rimming, and the stretching of his cock confirmed his enjoyment as well as Al’s, who arched his back until his bottom was high in the air, hips shifting and thrusting back against Clyde’s laving tongue and forward against the empty space between his cock and the desk.

“Surely there must be a better place to punish him, to punish both of you, than on your classroom desk, Al,” she said, and suddenly she was aware that the power had completely shifted in the dream. It was entirely in her hands, and whatever it was that needed to happen, it was also entirely up to her to intuit. “How about we take this little dream to the place that you both find the most punishing. What do you say boys?”

“No!” came the duet that just barely past both of their lips before they all found themselves on the rooftop of a skyscraper in the dead of night.

“Not here, Leah. This is not the place, this is not a dungeon. This is not Al’s dream,” Dr. Clyde’s voice was breathless, laced with fear and uncertainty she’d never heard in him before. “Anyplace, I’ll go anyplace you want to take us, only just not here.”

“Yes, Clyde. Here.” Both men were now naked and her black leather bustier and boots had been replaced with what appeared to be a body hugging chain-mail sort of armor exposing her breasts, buttocks and crotch. The strap-on she now wore matched, but the dildo was bigger, thicker, stainless steel.

From somewhere in the depths of the unconscious, she had conjured a St. Andrews cross to which Al was now strapped spread-eagle, suspended just at the edge of the building so that even secured as he was, his bare toes curled over the edge into nothingness and the breeze from the abyss below tussled his hair. Clyde knelt with his knees at the edge, his hands tied behind his back with his own necktie.
“You’ve blamed each other and you’ve blamed yourselves,” she said separating Al’s ass cheeks and plunging home hard, hard enough to make him cry out, even as he yielded with an ease that said the good doctor had done his job, but then this was a dream, and she wanted him to cry out. She wanted him to feel her anger, her frustration and being dragged into their guilt. “I don’t care who’s to blame.” She withdrew and thrust again. “I’m sorry for both of you.” Another thrust. “I’m sorry for Diana, but I have nothing to do with any of this and what I want is out of your goddamned dream.”

She thrust several more times before she realized Clyde was shouting over and over again, “it should have been me! It
should have been me! It should have been me!”

“But it wasn’t you.” She gave one more hard thrust and Al came in great gasping bursts, his semen painting the night f7c97536836dc44ea7a1faaa02ab1a6asky of the dreamscape like the tail of a comet. “It wasn’t either one of you, and it wasn’t your fault either. Diana did what she did, and no one could have stopped her. But since neither of you can get past it without dragging in innocent bystanders, I’m here to punish both of you. Maybe then you’ll forgive yourselves for what wasn’t your fault and just get on with it.” She pulled free of Al, whose restraints had disappeared along with the cross and, with the flat of her hand, she pushed him off the edge, him still coming in great heavy bursts.

Then she turned to Dr. Clyde staring in shock at Al’s endless descent. She drew him to his feet, still teetering on the edge, then untied his hands and kissed him deeply before pushing him over the edge to follow Al into the abyss of the dreamscape.

“Make your peace, both of you,” she called after them, “and then set me free.”

 
© 2017 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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