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Wet Dream 1 X Rated

January 1947

The twelve year old boy lay at an extremely comfortable plateau.

Feeling the cool breeze from beneath the parted window as,

pulling the blanket over his head,

the boy felt the warm vapor of his breath

and his comfort:

physical and mental was complete.

The well of sleep deepened,

and deepened yet.

Now came a bright form in the tunnel’s dark,

vaporous distance

and the boy moved towards it.

As he came closer the figure dwindled.

As he began to run the figure receded into nothingness

leaving the tunnel in total blackness.

The light!

The boy ran to the light.

Running,  

running,

but yet he remained in blackness…

Suddenly the bright form was back

and it was closer

but still too far away

and he could not see what it is.

But he must see what it is

and so he ran to it.

The light remained stationary,

Yet, as he came to it,

it came no closer

so the boy ran faster,

faster.

Closer…

The light is her!

Waving his arms,

“Wait!”

Running, “Wait,” he called.

“It’s me!”

The light’s away motion suddenly stopped.

“Wait, wait! It’s me.”

Stationary now,

she opened her arms to him

and she was as the old,

faded picture he’d seen:

naked.

She was naked

and he could see her so clearly:

her face,

her long, braided hair…

her breasts.

Repeating the words

the older boys had taught him:

“I want to touch your titties!’

The boy mumbled in his sleep.

Reaching to her,

she was just out of reach.

 I want to see your cunt!”

He looked “there”…

But not knowing what to see,

there was nothing there;

nothing but a symmetrical,

one-dimensional hole that

the boy was able to see through,

to the blackness behind.

 “I want jack-off in your cunt,

only then it’s called fucking.”

“But,” pointing her finger at him,

“you’re just a little kid!”

Looking down,

he realized he was naked,

and that he had an erection.

But it was not his penis

but a different penis,

one he had seen…

Wet Dream 2

…As some boys may

occasionally do,

finding it exciting

to masturbate

with another boy watching,

our twelve year old boy

forced to watch as a

much larger,

much older boy did so,

the older boy being

uncircumcised.

Now, within the depth of his dream,

holding his penis,

his different penis,

he moved his hand down,

forcing the dangle of foreskin to glide over the glans…

then up again,

and down again,

and each time

—not exactly the impression

the older boy had envisioned –

Each time the boy moved his hand downward,

the head of a rabbit popped through,

and it looked so funny…. 

And it felt so nice.

“I am not a kid!”

Proud of it,

showing it,

“See?

I’m not a kid ’cause I got a boner!”

It felt so nice holding his penis

that was another kid’s uncircumcised  penis.

 The head of a rabbit popping through,

“Here!”

 Pointing it upward

 so the shadowy lady might see,

 “See?”  

Moving his hand upward,

and downward.

And it felt so nice.

Up and down.

Holding himself through the opening of his pajamas,

unaware of the movement,

the sensual sensation exciting,  

the boy dropped deeper into his tunnel…

deeper.

Throughout his twelve years he had

fondled himself hundreds of times,

always at night or in the morning

when the need to urinate had caused an involuntary erection.

Now it was different.

Now the sensation was more pronounced.

Up and down.

More urgent.

Up, down.

Harder, faster.

More friction was created along the hard,

thin shaft of the twelve year old boy’s penis.

Harder, faster.

Up, down. Up-down.

His body jerking with the powerfully wrenching spasms,

the boy moaned aloud from his deep place

as he sensed the warmth that began in the area of his rectum,

testicles and groin then spread throughout his entire body that,

even in his sleep,

caused him to shudder at the convulsing sensations of a child’s first orgasm…

Finished,

its immediate climax deeply relaxing

as though having relieved himself of a very full bladder

after holding off a long time

—a very long time.

His eyes opened.

Becoming aware,

he stared into the darkness

a number of seconds,

then, Oh, no.

Appalled,

No! he thought,

it can’t be! I’ve “made” in bed!

Throwing the blanket off,

he rushed from his bedroom to the bathroom

but his pajamas were dry,

absolutely dry!

Was I dreaming?

Yeah, it had to be a dream!

Or maybe I was hangin’ out and only got the bed wet.

He shuddered. The bed, wet!

Rushing back to his room

he felt the sheet and blanket.

Dry!

The bed was dry!

Was I dreaming?

The boy wondered again.

Trying to remember,

he crawled back into bed,

Yeah, he thought,

I must have been dreaming.

 The boy fell asleep.

©May22, 2012 / Mark M Lichterman