Copyright 2009 by instigator@gmx.us All rights reserved
This is a story depicting sex between adult men. It is not intended to be read by minors.
If you are under 18 years of age, offended by stories which depict sex between men, or live in a jurisdiction where such materials are illegal, do not proceed further.
This story presents details of an actual encounter. Make of it what you will.
There is no actual sex in part one; you'll have to wait until part two for that.
You may find the introduction strange. What can I say, I'm a strange guy.
This is the dream world. This is my home.
The dream world is just like the real world, where I feel utterly powerless, but once I realize it is a dream, I can do anything I want. Strange thing is, all I ever want to do there is fuck men. In that sense, it's just like the real world.
There are problems. It is very difficult to realize that you are dreaming and still stay asleep. The sense of power can be so intoxicating that you wake up right away. It takes practice to stay asleep and let the dream continue.
I've had lots of practice.
The next problem is that you forget you are dreaming. The sense of power slips away as you start reacting like you are back in the real world.
The third problem is not evident right away. You still know it's a dream that you can mold to your will, but somehow the dream fights back, and resists being changed. Where does this resistance come from?
The fourth problem is the door back to the reality. In the dream world you can do anything you want. I wanted to fuck men, so I did, again, and again, and again... After a while I started to wonder, even though I can control the dream world, why can I not control what I want? Why do I always want the same thing?
Even in dreams you can not get away from yourself.
I learned all this as a teenager. That was a long time ago. I gave up on trying to control my dreams when I started to fuck men in real life. I just didn't need it any more.
The following story did not happen in the dream world, it was flesh and blood reality. Now I wonder, how am I ever going to wake up, when I never go to sleep in the first place?
I had just finished an evening class at the university, and was taking the subway home. I had just gotten on the train, and was still standing was I saw him. Our eyes met, and we locked onto each other right away. You probably know how it is usually works. A quick, furtive glance, a moment of mutual recognition, then look away. But not this time.
Even though he was sitting down I could tell he was tall, with a slender muscled body, dark hair and dark skin. East Indian, I thought, and Muslim, judging by the gold crescent moon and star he wore around his neck. I just stared at him, and he stared right back. I stood directly in front of him, and he just kept on looking at me right in the eyes.
The doors closed, and the train started moving. Sometimes a glance that lasts a few seconds feels like much longer. But this was not a few seconds. This lasted a minute, then two minutes. The train arrived at the next stop. The doors opened, people got on and off. The seat behind me was vacated, so I sat down directly across from him, and stared. He stared back, expressionless, without a sound.
I had never experienced anything like this before. Did anyone else notice how we could not keep our eyes off of each other? I felt hunger, lust, and overwhelming attraction. He was young, handsome, sensuous. I wanted him, and he wanted me. Neither of us moved or said a word. The aisle of the train was like a deep chasm separating us. In a dream I could just reach out, leap over that chasm and have him right there, but this was not dream. Guys don't make sexual contact in public on a subway train. (Well, not yet anyway, or at least not that night. We will have to save that story for another time).
The doors closed again; on to the next stop. Where was this going, where were we going? I knew I was going home, and I wanted so much for him to come with me. But he was a complete stranger. For all I knew, we did not even speak the same language. This is the powerlessness of the real world. I want, but I cannot have. I don't even know how to ask. So I asked the only way I could, but staring relentlessly, my eyes begging for him to touch me.
The train continued, stop after stop. Soon my stop was next, and with it my last chance for action. I stood up and waited at the door as the train pulled into the station. I stared at him again, my eyes shouting, "Come home with me!" He had turned and was looking at me, but his eyes were silent. "Stand up, let me know you want this too" I thought, but he didn't move. I got off the train, but he didn't follow. There were only seconds left, he could jump up and leap through the doorway, but he didn't. The doors closed, and the train started to pull away, but I didn't give up. I kept looking at him through the window, my eyes intent on sending a final message. He turned and looked back as I faded into the distance. His eyes finally spoke. "What can I do?", they said with disappointment. My answer was clear. "Come back to me".
You may be thinking it ended there, that the rest of this story is just fantasy, but what I tell you actually happened. I walked down the steps to take the bus the rest of the way home. Normally I would have been happy that there was one waiting for me, but not tonight. I decided just to sit and wait. I knew in a few minutes that this beautiful dark man would come walking down the steps. How did I know? I really can't say, but somehow I knew that moment that the real world and the dream world are one and the same. It happened because my desire made it happen. How long would I wait? I guessed it would take about eight to ten minutes for him to get off the train at the next stop, cross over to the other platform, and ride the train back to my stop.
The doors of the bus closed, and it left without me. I waited, and gave him until the next bus to come back to me. Intuitively I knew this would work, even though my rational mind told me I was going home alone. I don't know who was more surprised when, just as I had anticipated, about eight minutes passed, and he walked down from the platform, looking for me.
He looked a bit embarrassed when he saw me waiting. There was no escaping what we wanted now, no pretending this couldn't happen. There was only one reason to come back. He came and sat down near me, not sure what to do next. He didn't sit too close, because that would be too obvious, especially when no one else was around. I guess he thought that the other people that weren't might there think it strange if he sat right beside me, touching me as it were. We still didn't speak, even when the next bus arrived. I just gave him my "follow me" look, and got on the bus. He got the message.
It was a long bus ride, at least twenty minutes. Our looks were not so brazen now as the bus neared my home. We weren't downtown anymore, and we both felt the invisible pressure of suburban manners; don't look, don't stare, don't talk; don't touch. That was okay. Now the occasional glance was all I needed. "Be patient, we'll get there". When I pulled the cord to request my stop, he knew what to do. He waited a few moments, playing the part of the stranger now. His body language told the other passengers, "Oh, what a coincidence, this is my stop too." We were just two guys who just happened to be getting off the bus at the same time. Nothing to see here.
The performance continued. "Oh, look, he must live in the same building as I do". I opened the front door, and he followed me to the elevator. There, one of the other residents of the building was waiting, some old guy I had seen many times before. He always looked drunk. The three of got on the elevator without saying a word. I lived on the 14th floor, but the old guy was on a lower floor. My newfound friend and I were still acting like we didn't know each other, but he was watching us. As he got off the elevator, he turned and said out loud in a sarcastic voice,"Have fun guys". He wasn't fooled.
...
To be continued