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Sweet Dreams And frankly, I was horny as hell. Don’t we all have those dreams sometimes that are so, so real that you wake up in the morning
still wondering? Those dreams where your skin still thrills when you think of his touch?
I went to bed in the wee hours the other morning, despairing of ever falling asleep. Joe had been
gone about three weeks, and frankly, I was horny as hell. Yeah, there are toys, and hands, but
dammit, I just need the real thing sometimes, you know what I mean?
 I finally drifted off to sleep, and found myself floating in a misty haze, lazy blues music crooning
in my ears. I looked down at myself and I was wearing a lovely silky chiffon peignoir, the
decolletage sweeping gently across my breasts.
It was me, but not. I had the tiniest feet you can imagine, with the
highest arches, and they were encased in sweet little marabou covered
mules. I continued swirling round and round through the haze, and
soon Joe was there and we were dancing. Just barely brushing one
another with our hands. Little sizzles of heat zinged between us, and
soon the dance became a slow sultry tango, touching, then backing
away, touching and touching until there was no haze between us at all.
The peignoir seemed to disappear. There was no awkward tugging at
clothes, no fumbling with buttons, our clothes just melted away.
Those little sizzles of heat turned to lightning, urging us higher and
higher in our dance of love. The music and mist seemed to take on a life of their own, sliding
across heated skin, trailing like sparkles of light with every touch of our hands.
Breathing became difficult, the mist and music swirled together faster and faster, higher and
higher. Joe attempted to penetrate my heat with his hard-as-diamonds shaft....and tried....and
tried....and tried....
Oh my fucking god, I’m fucking BARBIE!
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