They were never able to do it without waking me.Until now, I had never lived in a place where I felt safe enough to let my guard down. Not even when I was sleeping. This morning is different. I am dreaming of our realtor. I don’t know if it is a product of having a split-brain or some other anomaly, but when I dream, I often seriously think about real-world things.In my dream, I am sitting at my desk, and the song Faith by George Michael is playing. In walks Sorrel. She spins my chair, so I am facing her, and she starts dancing to it. She ends up doing a lap dance/striptease. My head is so fucked up that I start thinking about the meeting we had. She is rubbing her tits in my face, and her hand is playing with my dick, through my shorts. I am thinking, ‘Oh shit, I haven’t gotten a hold of her since the military raided our meeting and absconded off with me. I need to phone her.’ The other side of my brain is enjoying the dream as she rubs her supple body all over me.The side of me. He notices the mess on my jeans and asks, “Are you sure you don’t want to take these off?” He tugs at the button that closes above the zipper. Knowing that my last bit of clothing may be the difference between my leaving this place still a virgin and my complete surrender, I reply, “It’s all I have left.” With that he removes his fingers from my panties, that’s when he notices the baby blue La Vie En Rose boyshorts I have on. “Very nice,” he says, running a finger along the elastic. I think he’s finally had enough of me as we’re no longer connected in any way. But then he puts the two fingers that were inside of me onto his cock and begins to wipe my lady-juices all over himself, blending our two fluids into one smooth one. I can’t believe him. He proceeds to put his hands onto the waist of his sweatpants and starts pulling them down. Inch by inch, more of his glorious thighs and tight ass come into view. He’s pulled off his Calvin Klein boxers at the same time so he’s naked in.
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