Wednesday night
Claire almost reverently rubbed her fingers along the edge of mattress they’d bought last year. After a brief smile and reminiscence at the extravagance of the purchase, she toppled onto it, pressed her cheek to the smooth, cotton pillows, draped an arm over the waist of her girlfriend, Beth, and snuggled into the thick and irresistibly soft duvet. Her consciousness ebbed quickly and, after succumbing to the call of sleep, her mind was soon swirling with the wonderful anarchy of a new dream.
“Claire,” said the faintest and most ethereal of male voices. “Claire… do you remember when…”
“Huh? What?” replied a barely conscious and very groggy Claire.
“Claire. Do you remember the night you cried yourself to sleep after your illicit lover boyfriend dumped you?” the voice asked.
Claire wasn’t sure if she was awake or not. She was in that state of deep slumber when events are so vivid, yet in the morning you know they just can’t have happened. The one certain thing was, asleep or not, she was answering the question.
“How do you know about that? What about it?”
“I remember what you did after that. Do you?”
“I slept. What else?”
“You were so desperate for what you were missing, weren’t you? You missed cock. Just hours without it and you craved it, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I know you did. That’s why you used both your vibrators, night after night. I loved watching you fuck yourself in the ass and pussy at the same time with them. In and out, over and over, dreaming of a long, thick, erect, cock, fucking you deep and hard. Fucking you until you squirted all over those crisp, ironed sheets. It was so… erotic,” giggled the voice playfully before tailing to a whisper, then disappearing.
Bemused, Claire shook her head to clear it, rolled over and drifted back into a deep sleep.
Thursday Night
“Claire.”
The voice from the dream again, yet this time Claire was certain she was awake.
“Claire, do you remember when Beth was out and you got drunk with your best friend Amy after watching Avengers Assemble? How you both dared each other to tell a fantasy and yours was to fuck Natasha Romanoff?”
“Who is this?” hissed Claire softly through pursed lips as she tried not to wake a sleeping Beth.
“I remember what you did Claire, do you?”
“Who is this? Answer me.”
“Other than your lovers, I’m your best night time friend. All I want to do is remember fun memories. It’s what I do,” the voice chuckled. “Amy took the dare and dressed up in black to look just like Natasha, didn’t she? I remember you undressing her slowly, then letting her ride your face until she came. You loved that; loved dipping your tongue into her sex as she orgasmed on you. I loved how you drank every drop then licked her clean afterwards. You do remember?”
“Yes, I remember.” Claire wanted to keep the voice talking as she tried desperately to pinpoint its origin.