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What do you dream about? When do you dream? Possibly your dreams are filled with violent, dark deeds which you struggle against your moral upbringing to experience. Maybe you dream of accomplishing heroic feats, of being acknowledged for your daring selfless acts to save other lives. Most seem to dream of fame and fortune maintaining these will be the answer to all their problems. They dream of being powerful in a chosen field along with the benefits of fast cars and beautiful women which they believe should rightfully be theirs. Me? I dream of a woman, unremarkable in most aspects, except she is wishes to be with me only.
She comes to me every day, just before dawn. I lay there patiently beneath the sheet not fully awake but no longer asleep. Firstly I am aware of the fragrance overwhelming my sense of smell to the exclusion of anything else. It’s jasmine, her favourite. Cool fingertips trace up the side of my outer thigh as she snuggles in behind me. “Good morning lover” she whispers and then she blows in my ear. She knows I used to find this irritating but it is a comfort now, a familiar routine. In my dream I open my eyes and find myself in her favourite location. A villa in Italy where we once holidayed. Magnolia on the walls, cream bedding, flimsy curtains swaying softly in a summer breeze and through which the corner of a small pool can be glimpsed. Crushed jasmine petals are scattered haphazardly on the bedspread.
I turn to face her and take her in my embrace when over her shoulder I spot the mechanic. The cream room fades and now all I can see is he. It is a reminder that today I must take the car for a service. “Yes, yes, I’ll be there with the car at 9.30 am sharp, I haven’t forgotten” I mumble. My conscious and subconscious vie in my mind for the uppermost attention but I am not ready to fully awaken yet. I slide back into her arms and into my dream.
The location has changed and now we are in the bath together. She is laid behind me, supporting me in her embrace.
“Comfy?” she queries.
“Always” I reply as she begins to shampoo my hair. She alternates the pressure she exerts through her fingers and I find the intimacy of this act both soothing and erotic. I am very nearly asleep when she laughingly pushes me so my head goes below the water line. As I rise up to retaliate my mother walks into the bathroom. “Do not forget to collect the birthday cake and balloons” she calls to me. “I wouldn’t forget them. They are, after all, for my own daughter” I reply, angry at the intrusion.
Again I dismiss the reminder of what I must do later in the day and concentrate on returning to my dream and the bathroom. All of a sudden I am there again and she is still laughing at my indignation. I pull her to her feet and kiss her, none too gently. A kiss that she returns with her own fervour. She sighs gently as my kiss travels down her body and she arches her back so her hips grind against mine. “Sit down” she whispers and I oblige. She straddles me as I easily lift her onto my lap.
I’m conscious now of a patter of tiny feet and soon enough little hands shake me. “Wake up Daddy, please wake up. It’s my birthday today. Come on!” The women in my dream begins to fade, still I try to cling to tendrils of the dream. “I have to leave you now” says the woman. “I know” I acknowledge her comment. “Be strong for our daughter” she whispers. “Always” I reply. These were the last words we spoke while she was still alive, before the cancer took her voice and then her life six months ago.
I’m fully awake now and grin with my eyes still closed. “Are you sure it’s your birthday today little one?”
“Don’t be silly Daddy. I’m 5 years old today!” she replies with all the indignation a 5 year old can muster.
Still with my eyes closed I grab her and swing her onto the bed, tickling her so that she giggles helplessly. Now I open my eyes a look at the miniature mirror image of her mother that is our daughter. Silently I say to myself “Always. I will always be strong for her”.
She comes to me every day, just before dawn. I lay there patiently beneath the sheet not fully awake but no longer asleep. Firstly I am aware of the fragrance overwhelming my sense of smell to the exclusion of anything else. It’s jasmine, her favourite. Cool fingertips trace up the side of my outer thigh as she snuggles in behind me. “Good morning lover” she whispers and then she blows in my ear. She knows I used to find this irritating but it is a comfort now, a familiar routine. In my dream I open my eyes and find myself in her favourite location. A villa in Italy where we once holidayed. Magnolia on the walls, cream bedding, flimsy curtains swaying softly in a summer breeze and through which the corner of a small pool can be glimpsed. Crushed jasmine petals are scattered haphazardly on the bedspread.
I turn to face her and take her in my embrace when over her shoulder I spot the mechanic. The cream room fades and now all I can see is he. It is a reminder that today I must take the car for a service. “Yes, yes, I’ll be there with the car at 9.30 am sharp, I haven’t forgotten” I mumble. My conscious and subconscious vie in my mind for the uppermost attention but I am not ready to fully awaken yet. I slide back into her arms and into my dream.
The location has changed and now we are in the bath together. She is laid behind me, supporting me in her embrace.
“Comfy?” she queries.
“Always” I reply as she begins to shampoo my hair. She alternates the pressure she exerts through her fingers and I find the intimacy of this act both soothing and erotic. I am very nearly asleep when she laughingly pushes me so my head goes below the water line. As I rise up to retaliate my mother walks into the bathroom. “Do not forget to collect the birthday cake and balloons” she calls to me. “I wouldn’t forget them. They are, after all, for my own daughter” I reply, angry at the intrusion.
Again I dismiss the reminder of what I must do later in the day and concentrate on returning to my dream and the bathroom. All of a sudden I am there again and she is still laughing at my indignation. I pull her to her feet and kiss her, none too gently. A kiss that she returns with her own fervour. She sighs gently as my kiss travels down her body and she arches her back so her hips grind against mine. “Sit down” she whispers and I oblige. She straddles me as I easily lift her onto my lap.
I’m conscious now of a patter of tiny feet and soon enough little hands shake me. “Wake up Daddy, please wake up. It’s my birthday today. Come on!” The women in my dream begins to fade, still I try to cling to tendrils of the dream. “I have to leave you now” says the woman. “I know” I acknowledge her comment. “Be strong for our daughter” she whispers. “Always” I reply. These were the last words we spoke while she was still alive, before the cancer took her voice and then her life six months ago.
I’m fully awake now and grin with my eyes still closed. “Are you sure it’s your birthday today little one?”
“Don’t be silly Daddy. I’m 5 years old today!” she replies with all the indignation a 5 year old can muster.
Still with my eyes closed I grab her and swing her onto the bed, tickling her so that she giggles helplessly. Now I open my eyes a look at the miniature mirror image of her mother that is our daughter. Silently I say to myself “Always. I will always be strong for her”.
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Black Glove wrote:
> though I must say that when the mechanic
> appeared I thought it was going to turn into porno. :)
I was hoping that too :(
That was very good/depressing
> though I must say that when the mechanic
> appeared I thought it was going to turn into porno. :)
I was hoping that too :(
That was very good/depressing
Very good, touching - though I must say that when the mechanic appeared I thought it was going to turn into porno. :)
Very smoothly described if you know what I mean, I instantly found myself painting a mental picture of it. Marvelous.
My fave so far, quite a classic. I'd agree with saying the 1st para is the worst, but other than that it's all good.
Aaaaargh! I'll never win at this rate.
Aaaaargh! I'll never win at this rate.
Just read it again myself. You are right. The first paragraph is the worst.
Thanks for the comments guys.
EDIT. I spelling is getting worse :(
Thanks for the comments guys.
EDIT. I spelling is getting worse :(
Loved that, my favourite from this SSC so far. There are a few lines that were a little confusing and split up the flow from time to time, but it wasn't a frequent problem.
Nice one. :)
Nice one. :)
Excellent story loved it bought a tear to my eye!
What do you dream about? When do you dream? Possibly your dreams are filled with violent, dark deeds which you struggle against your moral upbringing to experience. Maybe you dream of accomplishing heroic feats, of being acknowledged for your daring selfless acts to save other lives. Most seem to dream of fame and fortune maintaining these will be the answer to all their problems. They dream of being powerful in a chosen field along with the benefits of fast cars and beautiful women which they believe should rightfully be theirs. Me? I dream of a woman, unremarkable in most aspects, except she is wishes to be with me only.
She comes to me every day, just before dawn. I lay there patiently beneath the sheet not fully awake but no longer asleep. Firstly I am aware of the fragrance overwhelming my sense of smell to the exclusion of anything else. It’s jasmine, her favourite. Cool fingertips trace up the side of my outer thigh as she snuggles in behind me. “Good morning lover” she whispers and then she blows in my ear. She knows I used to find this irritating but it is a comfort now, a familiar routine. In my dream I open my eyes and find myself in her favourite location. A villa in Italy where we once holidayed. Magnolia on the walls, cream bedding, flimsy curtains swaying softly in a summer breeze and through which the corner of a small pool can be glimpsed. Crushed jasmine petals are scattered haphazardly on the bedspread.
I turn to face her and take her in my embrace when over her shoulder I spot the mechanic. The cream room fades and now all I can see is he. It is a reminder that today I must take the car for a service. “Yes, yes, I’ll be there with the car at 9.30 am sharp, I haven’t forgotten” I mumble. My conscious and subconscious vie in my mind for the uppermost attention but I am not ready to fully awaken yet. I slide back into her arms and into my dream.
The location has changed and now we are in the bath together. She is laid behind me, supporting me in her embrace.
“Comfy?” she queries.
“Always” I reply as she begins to shampoo my hair. She alternates the pressure she exerts through her fingers and I find the intimacy of this act both soothing and erotic. I am very nearly asleep when she laughingly pushes me so my head goes below the water line. As I rise up to retaliate my mother walks into the bathroom. “Do not forget to collect the birthday cake and balloons” she calls to me. “I wouldn’t forget them. They are, after all, for my own daughter” I reply, angry at the intrusion.
Again I dismiss the reminder of what I must do later in the day and concentrate on returning to my dream and the bathroom. All of a sudden I am there again and she is still laughing at my indignation. I pull her to her feet and kiss her, none too gently. A kiss that she returns with her own fervour. She sighs gently as my kiss travels down her body and she arches her back so her hips grind against mine. “Sit down” she whispers and I oblige. She straddles me as I easily lift her onto my lap.
I’m conscious now of a patter of tiny feet and soon enough little hands shake me. “Wake up Daddy, please wake up. It’s my birthday today. Come on!” The women in my dream begins to fade, still I try to cling to tendrils of the dream. “I have to leave you now” says the woman. “I know” I acknowledge her comment. “Be strong for our daughter” she whispers. “Always” I reply. These were the last words we spoke while she was still alive, before the cancer took her voice and then her life six months ago.
I’m fully awake now and grin with my eyes still closed. “Are you sure it’s your birthday today little one?”
“Don’t be silly Daddy. I’m 5 years old today!” she replies with all the indignation a 5 year old can muster.
Still with my eyes closed I grab her and swing her onto the bed, tickling her so that she giggles helplessly. Now I open my eyes a look at the miniature mirror image of her mother that is our daughter. Silently I say to myself “Always. I will always be strong for her”.
She comes to me every day, just before dawn. I lay there patiently beneath the sheet not fully awake but no longer asleep. Firstly I am aware of the fragrance overwhelming my sense of smell to the exclusion of anything else. It’s jasmine, her favourite. Cool fingertips trace up the side of my outer thigh as she snuggles in behind me. “Good morning lover” she whispers and then she blows in my ear. She knows I used to find this irritating but it is a comfort now, a familiar routine. In my dream I open my eyes and find myself in her favourite location. A villa in Italy where we once holidayed. Magnolia on the walls, cream bedding, flimsy curtains swaying softly in a summer breeze and through which the corner of a small pool can be glimpsed. Crushed jasmine petals are scattered haphazardly on the bedspread.
I turn to face her and take her in my embrace when over her shoulder I spot the mechanic. The cream room fades and now all I can see is he. It is a reminder that today I must take the car for a service. “Yes, yes, I’ll be there with the car at 9.30 am sharp, I haven’t forgotten” I mumble. My conscious and subconscious vie in my mind for the uppermost attention but I am not ready to fully awaken yet. I slide back into her arms and into my dream.
The location has changed and now we are in the bath together. She is laid behind me, supporting me in her embrace.
“Comfy?” she queries.
“Always” I reply as she begins to shampoo my hair. She alternates the pressure she exerts through her fingers and I find the intimacy of this act both soothing and erotic. I am very nearly asleep when she laughingly pushes me so my head goes below the water line. As I rise up to retaliate my mother walks into the bathroom. “Do not forget to collect the birthday cake and balloons” she calls to me. “I wouldn’t forget them. They are, after all, for my own daughter” I reply, angry at the intrusion.
Again I dismiss the reminder of what I must do later in the day and concentrate on returning to my dream and the bathroom. All of a sudden I am there again and she is still laughing at my indignation. I pull her to her feet and kiss her, none too gently. A kiss that she returns with her own fervour. She sighs gently as my kiss travels down her body and she arches her back so her hips grind against mine. “Sit down” she whispers and I oblige. She straddles me as I easily lift her onto my lap.
I’m conscious now of a patter of tiny feet and soon enough little hands shake me. “Wake up Daddy, please wake up. It’s my birthday today. Come on!” The women in my dream begins to fade, still I try to cling to tendrils of the dream. “I have to leave you now” says the woman. “I know” I acknowledge her comment. “Be strong for our daughter” she whispers. “Always” I reply. These were the last words we spoke while she was still alive, before the cancer took her voice and then her life six months ago.
I’m fully awake now and grin with my eyes still closed. “Are you sure it’s your birthday today little one?”
“Don’t be silly Daddy. I’m 5 years old today!” she replies with all the indignation a 5 year old can muster.
Still with my eyes closed I grab her and swing her onto the bed, tickling her so that she giggles helplessly. Now I open my eyes a look at the miniature mirror image of her mother that is our daughter. Silently I say to myself “Always. I will always be strong for her”.
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