Nightmares are also dreams, part 6: Tara

The heat void left by Pel getting up rouses me from my barely remembered dream of laying next to a fire. I snuggle into his spot. Still warm from him and close to Sara. I feel the soft muscle of Sara’s arm pull me to her, sliding me across silk to nestle close enough to feel her warm breathing tickle my still closed eyelids. I feel her feather touch. Soft fingers spread like a fan, drawing circles around my breast. My eyes open, awake now, and find the deep green of shaded forest staring into mine. I’ve seen this look before, her eyes flashing so deeply with desire they are practically black.

I lean in and devour her soft lips with mine, head tilted to the left. Pressure building to take more of her into my mouth. Tongue sliding over tongue, soft and fierce, fighting for more and more until I feel her hand squeezing and pulling my tit. I break awake, gasping for air. Gobbling breath. Her hand pulses like a heartbeat. I find myself on my back gasping, not sure how I changed positions.

Her nails graze against me sending shivers down spine and her mouth closes over my throat. Lightly biting down, claiming me as hers, her kill. I shudder needing more but she moves so slowly. Lips press their need against my chest and I gasp in surprise when her teeth close over my nipple right as her hand flicks my clit.

I fade out, almost to float, but her fingers plunging inside me shakes me loose. I panic, starting to struggle against her and my eyes fly open.

From the doorway, Pel is watching us. He’s holding two mugs in his hands, not drinking from either. He seems content to watch us forever.

I relax shocked back to reality. My girlfriend and my Sir. I’m safe and that thought gets blasted out of my head. Sara is biting and nibbling and her hand pulses inside me fingers splayed and caressing inside finding spots I never knew were there.

I fall into sensation, eyes closed against any distraction. Each time I feel teeth I whimper as a thumb drags slowly against my clit.

My lungs expand and contract, rough breathe spilling into the air, my body starts shuddering, and then soft waves of gold hammer through and out of me, again and again riding the edge of orgasm.

It’s too much and I can’t think. Lost in the float…

Some minutes later I hear water turning off, when did that happen? Sara is drinking from a cup and offers one to me.

I take the proffered gift and find it contains drinking chocolate. Pel made this…there is cayenne in it. Sara prefers to mix it with cream.

It is delicious but not what I want. I put the mug down on the nightstand with a metallic click.

I burrow beneath the covers and find the prize I’m looking for. The soft blonde sweetness of Sara. It smells of musk and vanilla with a hint of Pel from last night. I play the game Pel taught me. I lick a long slow A against the pussy lips of my…wife.

I’ll say yes. The last time they asked, I wasn’t ready. But yes, they are mine. I won’t give them up. But… Later. Now I need more and the soft moans of Sara whisper our rightness.

Valentine’s day-Prologue

This story will be told every other Sunday.  It is a continuation of the stories in Life’s Sensual Journeys, so if you have any interest I recommend you pick it up.


I questioned the idea of living with two women. My Sara is almost more than any person can handle. Adding Tara to the mix seemed like it would be exhausting, good exhausting, but still. It hasn’t turned out that way. Tara is the most submissive person I have ever had the privilege of being Master to. She delights in service and has set our whole household in order. When I am unable to provide enough entertainment for my deliciously demanding wife, Tara takes to the task with verve and enthusiasm.

This all rushes through my head with the rapid fire vignettes of experience. As I’m waking, culminating in the realization of just how lucky I am.

I’m in bed, sleeping on top of the covers sandwiched between the two loves of my life. Sara sleeps at my back. Arms thrown every which way, softly snoring. She puts off the body heat of a furnace. Odd for someone her size but she is a bit hyper kinetic. Just thinking of her makes me smile. Hearing her soft snorts makes me want to wake her with a kiss. If I get her going this early, I’ll need to take care of her and I’m too tired for that.

Tara is the little spoon to my big spoon. When we went to sleep she was stretched out and relaxed. Now, she is curled into a defensive ball.

My mind flashes to the mewling crying form of the complete waste of carbon who hurt her. The floor of his house slick with blood from the gut shot. The fear and hope in his eyes before I snuffed out his life.

I see my Tara curled like this and I know I did the correct thing. Some monsters must be slain. Regardless of what that makes me, at least she is free.

I reach over her still form and hit the remote to lower the temperature in the room. Sleeping between them is hot but I would want nothing else. When I brush my arm, inadvertently, against Tara she latches on to it. She snuggles back against me holding on to me like a talisman against the darkness. The flash of fierce pride washes over me. Six months ago she would have shied away.

The soft heat, vanilla, and berry scent of my wife and lover brings its own comfort.

It’s going to be a good Valentine’s day.


I wish I had the courage to say to all those that I love, “I love you.” I wish I had the courage to say to all those who I think I could love, “I could love you, given time and half a chance.” I wish I could say, “There is something about you that is so compelling.” I wish I could share what I see. I would wish that I was not so fearful of the consequences. If I say those things, what would the fallout be? Would I be believed? And if I am believed, would I be dismissed, disregarded? Or worse, met with silence. As if I never were. This is what consumes me. And all the lust, all the fire of the physical. Is a mask worn to conceal these thoughts, these needs. But like all thoughts, when worn long enough, they have become a part of me. Inextricably linked to how I view love. It is not enough to love someone emotionally. I need to touch them. For some just a few fingers against their arm, or a hug. For others they consume me and I need to consume them. To feel comfortable, complete.

I love many people. Each uniquely, each for different reasons. But I love them. I wish I was free or fool enough to declare it.