A New Day
by SpectreOfHell
Normally, Patrick couldn't remember his dreams. There were vague after-images of things, people, places, but nothing really coherent. Instead, he recalled emotions. Fear, anxiety, happiness. Sometimes, rare times, he realized he was dreaming while the dream was unfolding, allowing him to take control of things. Those dreams were the shortest, as if his mind didn't want him directly connected to his subconscious. So as he woke that morning, he wondered exactly what it was that was happening. Was he dreaming? If so, he could do something about the strange sensation he was experiencing. The bed was shifting beneath him, his legs were being raised into the air. Something prodded him. He was relaxed, unafraid, so when the prodding became insistent, he opened his eyes slowly, wondering if this was waking, or if he was dreaming of being awake.
He saw an astonishingly beautiful woman looming above him. Her hair was very dark brown and long enough to almost cover her large breasts. Her skin was tanned except for two triangular patches over her nipples. Which were erect. She was looking down. He noticed that his legs were being held up in the air by her hands around his ankles. Delicate, feminine hands. He knew he could break free at any moment, but something told him to wait. He felt the prodding connect below his line of sight. Something stiff was pushing its way inside him.
He'd had this dream before, he recalled. Once or twice, at least. He was a woman in the dream, and he was being made love to. It always made him wake up when his dream-self was penetrated. The woman moaned very softly as the pressure in his sphincter increased. He was being stretched down there, but not unpleasantly so. His cock, he saw, was rock hard. The woman eased her hips back and pushed forward again. She must have applied lubricant, Patrick thought, because the thing she was prodding him with slid even deeper inside him. He told himself he should be awake by now, that he didn't want to be fucked, even if it was by a beautiful woman. Yet...it felt nice. He felt pleasantly full. Not like when he had to use the bathroom, no. It was different. She pushed, he felt her shaved crotch meet his. She struck something inside him that made exquisite sensations of pleasure ripple through his body. No, not struck. Squeezed. Her girth put pressure on something. It felt...good.
She eased back and sank into him again. "Oh, fuck," she groaned. Her voice was raspy, sexy. She noticed his eyes were open and smiled brilliantly at him. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist having you again," she said.
Patrick blinked. He felt the coolness of the sheets, saw sunlight filtering through the shades, smelled jasmine and sex in the air, and he knew suddenly that he was not dreaming. This was really happening. She pulled back and pushed into him again, sinking deeply, moving slowly. The squeezing pressure came again, the same pleasure. His toes curled. It was surreal. He was being fucked by a woman. He lifted his head, craning his neck for a better look, lifting up onto his elbows...
She wasn't wearing a strap-on. It was her. She had a dick. He was being fucked by a shemale. "Oh, God," he groaned, half in horror, half in...he wasn't sure.
"Yeah," the shemale moaned in agreement. She was quivering as she fucked him, moving her slender cock in and out of Patrick's asshole slowly, sinking in as deeply as she could on every stroke.
"Hey, you started without me," a voice complained. Patrick looked to his right, to the doorway, where a short woman stood. Very short, he saw. The top of her head just cleared the doorknob. She was wearing one of his t-shirts, his old AC/DC concert shirt. It hung like a nightgown on her small body. She grinned as she walked into the room, peeling off the shirt, revealing her naked body. Like most little persons, she had shorter than average arms and legs, but it wasn't very noticeable. She had tiny breasts, small pointed cones on her pale chest capped with pink nipples. Below, her pussy was neatly trimmed, her pubes as blonde as the hair on her head. She climbed up onto the bed with only a little difficulty, stretching her body out next to his. She grasped his cock in one of her small hands and stroked him. Immediately, his cock began to drool precum. He watched her wipe it off before licking the goo from her fingers.
Then she kissed him.
He could taste himself on her tongue. A normal man, he told himself, would have recoiled in horror, but he didn't. This was familiar, somehow. She was a good kisser, too, her tongue dancing a waltz around his inside his mouth. He snaked an arm around her torso, pulling her closer. Her kiss increased in passion.
Patrick's mind was spinning. He had two beautiful women in his bed and no memory of how they had gotten here. True, one was a shemale and the other a little person, the last two types of female he ever expected to score with, but that only made the mystery stranger. He remembered his friends insisting on taking him out to console him after his breakup. He remembered the first bar fairly clearly, the second with only fragmentary memory, and after that...
He was not a heavy drinker, so it had not taken much to get him black-out drunk. What really confused him was his apparent lack of a hangover. Then again, he remembered telling himself when the night began to drink plenty of water.
by SpectreOfHell
Normally, Patrick couldn't remember his dreams. There were vague after-images of things, people, places, but nothing really coherent. Instead, he recalled emotions. Fear, anxiety, happiness. Sometimes, rare times, he realized he was dreaming while the dream was unfolding, allowing him to take control of things. Those dreams were the shortest, as if his mind didn't want him directly connected to his subconscious. So as he woke that morning, he wondered exactly what it was that was happening. Was he dreaming? If so, he could do something about the strange sensation he was experiencing. The bed was shifting beneath him, his legs were being raised into the air. Something prodded him. He was relaxed, unafraid, so when the prodding became insistent, he opened his eyes slowly, wondering if this was waking, or if he was dreaming of being awake.
He saw an astonishingly beautiful woman looming above him. Her hair was very dark brown and long enough to almost cover her large breasts. Her skin was tanned except for two triangular patches over her nipples. Which were erect. She was looking down. He noticed that his legs were being held up in the air by her hands around his ankles. Delicate, feminine hands. He knew he could break free at any moment, but something told him to wait. He felt the prodding connect below his line of sight. Something stiff was pushing its way inside him.
He'd had this dream before, he recalled. Once or twice, at least. He was a woman in the dream, and he was being made love to. It always made him wake up when his dream-self was penetrated. The woman moaned very softly as the pressure in his sphincter increased. He was being stretched down there, but not unpleasantly so. His cock, he saw, was rock hard. The woman eased her hips back and pushed forward again. She must have applied lubricant, Patrick thought, because the thing she was prodding him with slid even deeper inside him. He told himself he should be awake by now, that he didn't want to be fucked, even if it was by a beautiful woman. Yet...it felt nice. He felt pleasantly full. Not like when he had to use the bathroom, no. It was different. She pushed, he felt her shaved crotch meet his. She struck something inside him that made exquisite sensations of pleasure ripple through his body. No, not struck. Squeezed. Her girth put pressure on something. It felt...good.
She eased back and sank into him again. "Oh, fuck," she groaned. Her voice was raspy, sexy. She noticed his eyes were open and smiled brilliantly at him. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist having you again," she said.
Patrick blinked. He felt the coolness of the sheets, saw sunlight filtering through the shades, smelled jasmine and sex in the air, and he knew suddenly that he was not dreaming. This was really happening. She pulled back and pushed into him again, sinking deeply, moving slowly. The squeezing pressure came again, the same pleasure. His toes curled. It was surreal. He was being fucked by a woman. He lifted his head, craning his neck for a better look, lifting up onto his elbows...
She wasn't wearing a strap-on. It was her. She had a dick. He was being fucked by a shemale. "Oh, God," he groaned, half in horror, half in...he wasn't sure.
"Yeah," the shemale moaned in agreement. She was quivering as she fucked him, moving her slender cock in and out of Patrick's asshole slowly, sinking in as deeply as she could on every stroke.
"Hey, you started without me," a voice complained. Patrick looked to his right, to the doorway, where a short woman stood. Very short, he saw. The top of her head just cleared the doorknob. She was wearing one of his t-shirts, his old AC/DC concert shirt. It hung like a nightgown on her small body. She grinned as she walked into the room, peeling off the shirt, revealing her naked body. Like most little persons, she had shorter than average arms and legs, but it wasn't very noticeable. She had tiny breasts, small pointed cones on her pale chest capped with pink nipples. Below, her pussy was neatly trimmed, her pubes as blonde as the hair on her head. She climbed up onto the bed with only a little difficulty, stretching her body out next to his. She grasped his cock in one of her small hands and stroked him. Immediately, his cock began to drool precum. He watched her wipe it off before licking the goo from her fingers.
Then she kissed him.
He could taste himself on her tongue. A normal man, he told himself, would have recoiled in horror, but he didn't. This was familiar, somehow. She was a good kisser, too, her tongue dancing a waltz around his inside his mouth. He snaked an arm around her torso, pulling her closer. Her kiss increased in passion.
Patrick's mind was spinning. He had two beautiful women in his bed and no memory of how they had gotten here. True, one was a shemale and the other a little person, the last two types of female he ever expected to score with, but that only made the mystery stranger. He remembered his friends insisting on taking him out to console him after his breakup. He remembered the first bar fairly clearly, the second with only fragmentary memory, and after that...
He was not a heavy drinker, so it had not taken much to get him black-out drunk. What really confused him was his apparent lack of a hangover. Then again, he remembered telling himself when the night began to drink plenty of water.
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Most of a hangover was dehydration, after all. He had been a smart drunk, for a change. And, evidently, a silver-tongued one as well.
The woman fucking him had said she'd wanted him "again." That implied there had been a first time. Likewise, the small woman in his arms felt equally familiar. His brain might have forgotten, but his body hadn't. He shivered as that special spot deep in his rectum was squeezed again. He moaned into the second woman's mouth.
She broke the kiss, panting. "I can't believe how hot this is!" she said. "Pat, will you...will you eat me again like you did last night? Please?"
"Yeah, of course," he said almost without thinking. He had always been a considerate lover. He had treated Mallory with respect and tenderness. Why had she chosen to leave him for that guitar playing idiot? Well, fuck her!
The small woman rose up and threw a chubby leg over his face before squatting onto his mouth. She was dripping wet already, and she settled onto his lips delicately, as if afraid she would hurt him. Patrick opened his mouth wide and took in as much of her pussy as he could, thrusting his tongue between her swollen labia.
She screamed.
"Oh, yeah," the shemale moaned, picking up the pace.
"Patrick! Patrick!" the small woman gasped as her hips churned, grinding her pussy across his mouth. He licked and nibbled as best he could with her in motion, using his hands to explore her body. One hand found a small breast and pinched the nipple. That got a loud gasp out of her. The other hand discovered her asshole and began to probe. She leaned forward, bracing her hands against the wall, shaking. He raked wetness from his mouth and her pussy back to her sphincter, lubricating it enough for him to push a finger into her.
"Fuck!" she yelled loudly and came. Her pussy squirted into his mouth. It was messy, coating his face, and it was utterly delightful. Her fluids were thick, almost syrupy, and a bit salty. A little sweet. A tiny bit bitter. Completely unique. He drank as much as he could before she went limp, sliding her pussy over his chin and away from his mouth.
"I'm so close!" the shemale moaned.
Patrick was too. His cock was throbbing. Holding the small woman by her waist, he pushed her down his body. She seemed to understand what he wanted and began to scoot herself back until he felt his cock come into contact with her pussy. She lifted up, trying to reach between them.
"Let me," the shemale said. The small woman smiled at her over her shoulder. The shemale let go of Patrick's left leg. He felt her hand close around his drooling cock, lift it, guide it. The small woman pushed back. He sank halfway into her on the first thrust, making them both cry out. She eased forward before shoving backwards a second time, engulfing his cock entirely. She rocked atop him, fucking him in short strokes, keeping as much of him in her body as possible.
The shemale came first. "Patrick!" she cried out, shoving her cock into him hard. Patrick felt it swell inside him, felt it throb, knew that she was unloading a flood of cum deep into his bowels. Her deep thrusting over stimulated his prostate, and he felt orgasm overwhelming him. He pushed up with his hips and exploded, sending a tidal wave of sperm into the small woman's gushing pussy. As if that was the trigger she had been waiting for, she cried out and came, squirting wetly over his balls. The three of them quivered together, pleasure connecting them profoundly. The shemale relaxed first, settling back onto her heels. Her slender cock slipped out of Patrick's asshole followed by a thick river of cum. The small woman atop him lay down flat, gasping for breath. His cock fell from her, still mostly erect. More wetness soaked his crotch as her juices combined with his cum ran out of her.
After a couple of minutes, the small woman lifted her head. "Jesus Christ," she said, laughing. "I've never cum so hard in my life!"
"Me, neither," the shemale said.
Memory clicked suddenly. Patrick saw her at the bar, drinking alone, looking nervous. Sexy red dress, fishnets, a vision. He understood why she was nervous later, when she revealed the secret between her thighs. He remembered the look of wonder on her face when he hadn't cared about her equipment.
"Denise," he said, speaking her name as the memory came.
And the other one, the wallflower with her group of regular-sized friends. Overlooked because of her size, wary of his attentions when he already had a beautiful woman on his arm.
"Jennifer," he said, speaking her name.
They both smiled at him.
He couldn't remember what he had said to them or what had happened later. How they had gotten here, or what made them want to be with him. All that mattered was that they had somehow found each other. Three lost souls, three hearts in need. He gestured, and Denise moved around his legs to lay next to him. They kissed tenderly. She snuggled closer. He kissed Jennifer before she snuggled beneath his other arm.
His memory of the night might be gone, but what he had now...well, he hoped it would last. It was not the kind of relationship he could ever have imagined having, but maybe that was exactly what he needed. What they all needed.
Time would tell.
The woman fucking him had said she'd wanted him "again." That implied there had been a first time. Likewise, the small woman in his arms felt equally familiar. His brain might have forgotten, but his body hadn't. He shivered as that special spot deep in his rectum was squeezed again. He moaned into the second woman's mouth.
She broke the kiss, panting. "I can't believe how hot this is!" she said. "Pat, will you...will you eat me again like you did last night? Please?"
"Yeah, of course," he said almost without thinking. He had always been a considerate lover. He had treated Mallory with respect and tenderness. Why had she chosen to leave him for that guitar playing idiot? Well, fuck her!
The small woman rose up and threw a chubby leg over his face before squatting onto his mouth. She was dripping wet already, and she settled onto his lips delicately, as if afraid she would hurt him. Patrick opened his mouth wide and took in as much of her pussy as he could, thrusting his tongue between her swollen labia.
She screamed.
"Oh, yeah," the shemale moaned, picking up the pace.
"Patrick! Patrick!" the small woman gasped as her hips churned, grinding her pussy across his mouth. He licked and nibbled as best he could with her in motion, using his hands to explore her body. One hand found a small breast and pinched the nipple. That got a loud gasp out of her. The other hand discovered her asshole and began to probe. She leaned forward, bracing her hands against the wall, shaking. He raked wetness from his mouth and her pussy back to her sphincter, lubricating it enough for him to push a finger into her.
"Fuck!" she yelled loudly and came. Her pussy squirted into his mouth. It was messy, coating his face, and it was utterly delightful. Her fluids were thick, almost syrupy, and a bit salty. A little sweet. A tiny bit bitter. Completely unique. He drank as much as he could before she went limp, sliding her pussy over his chin and away from his mouth.
"I'm so close!" the shemale moaned.
Patrick was too. His cock was throbbing. Holding the small woman by her waist, he pushed her down his body. She seemed to understand what he wanted and began to scoot herself back until he felt his cock come into contact with her pussy. She lifted up, trying to reach between them.
"Let me," the shemale said. The small woman smiled at her over her shoulder. The shemale let go of Patrick's left leg. He felt her hand close around his drooling cock, lift it, guide it. The small woman pushed back. He sank halfway into her on the first thrust, making them both cry out. She eased forward before shoving backwards a second time, engulfing his cock entirely. She rocked atop him, fucking him in short strokes, keeping as much of him in her body as possible.
The shemale came first. "Patrick!" she cried out, shoving her cock into him hard. Patrick felt it swell inside him, felt it throb, knew that she was unloading a flood of cum deep into his bowels. Her deep thrusting over stimulated his prostate, and he felt orgasm overwhelming him. He pushed up with his hips and exploded, sending a tidal wave of sperm into the small woman's gushing pussy. As if that was the trigger she had been waiting for, she cried out and came, squirting wetly over his balls. The three of them quivered together, pleasure connecting them profoundly. The shemale relaxed first, settling back onto her heels. Her slender cock slipped out of Patrick's asshole followed by a thick river of cum. The small woman atop him lay down flat, gasping for breath. His cock fell from her, still mostly erect. More wetness soaked his crotch as her juices combined with his cum ran out of her.
After a couple of minutes, the small woman lifted her head. "Jesus Christ," she said, laughing. "I've never cum so hard in my life!"
"Me, neither," the shemale said.
Memory clicked suddenly. Patrick saw her at the bar, drinking alone, looking nervous. Sexy red dress, fishnets, a vision. He understood why she was nervous later, when she revealed the secret between her thighs. He remembered the look of wonder on her face when he hadn't cared about her equipment.
"Denise," he said, speaking her name as the memory came.
And the other one, the wallflower with her group of regular-sized friends. Overlooked because of her size, wary of his attentions when he already had a beautiful woman on his arm.
"Jennifer," he said, speaking her name.
They both smiled at him.
He couldn't remember what he had said to them or what had happened later. How they had gotten here, or what made them want to be with him. All that mattered was that they had somehow found each other. Three lost souls, three hearts in need. He gestured, and Denise moved around his legs to lay next to him. They kissed tenderly. She snuggled closer. He kissed Jennifer before she snuggled beneath his other arm.
His memory of the night might be gone, but what he had now...well, he hoped it would last. It was not the kind of relationship he could ever have imagined having, but maybe that was exactly what he needed. What they all needed.
Time would tell.
