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  • Dream Lover
  • Published: Oct 1, 2007
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  • Category: Short stories
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About: "I was kissing back and enjoying the feel of the loveliest small breasts under my palms."

Title: Dream Lover


Iíve never spoken of this before because if the story ever came out it would ruin me. However this late in life there is little danger in that. I spent my life as a teacher and later as a headmaster. I was at one point the headmaster of a very well respected girlís school.

Yes I know it is still rare for a man to be headmaster of such a school but I ended up with the position through a series of odd happenings and all in all I think it turned out rather well.

One of the most cherished traditions of the school was the island camp. It had been going on for so long that no one knew just how or why it started. The young ladies of the ninth class would host it for the girls of the eighth class as a sort of welcoming into the upper grades. Always on the weekend following the last examinations of the year it was in effect the final affair of the school year except for graduation.

The island was in the middle of the large lake near the school and was bare of any buildings. A small dock and the tent platforms with their fire pits were the only man made structures. Usually there were about twenty or twenty five girls escorted by a few teachers and the headmaster or headmistress.

From Friday night until Sunday afternoon the girls did their own cooking and just spent time gathered in small groups doing whatever seemed important to each group.

The teachers formed a sort of oversight committee and dock guard. Since the dock was the only place where a landing could be made the presence of their tents there effectively prevented any young men from visiting. With my tent set off by itself at the far end of the site we had the young ladies surrounded and protected. I never dreamed that maybe there were others that needed protection.

I must admit that I never really enjoyed the whole thing. It was enjoyable to watch all the goings on but the idea of camping just left me cold. I soon acquired the habit of drinking a bottle of good wine in the privacy of my tent before retiring. This helped me get a good nightís rest and really was the only way I could get through the affair.

On the night in question I was fast asleep when the dream started. Have you ever had one so real that you would swear it all was real? Well this one was like that. As I had never married I often had erotic dreams and some of them were quite detailed. I suppose this was normal since I had few chances to actively pursue the fair sex due to my position. As this dream went on it became almost overpowering.

It started out with the feel of flesh next to me. Lips kissing mine. Hands exploring my body and my hands returning the favor. I was kissing back and enjoying the feel of the loveliest small breasts under my palms. I knew that I was groaning and writhing as the dream gripped me but I could not or would not awaken fully. Then there were lips on my swollen manhood. As soft as butterfly wings and as insistent as sunrise they continued until I spasmed. It was not yet over however.

The phantom lips and hands continued to explore and tease me. Then I was hard once more. Only this time it was a different pair of lips that engulfed my member. Legs straddled me as ever so slowly I was taken inside the smallest, tightest, and warmest pussy. There was a moment of being blocked by something. A sudden movement by my lover a gasp and with a popping feeling I was taken in my full measure.

I lay there overwhelmed by the feelings for a long time. Then she started to move and within minutes I was matching her thrust for thrust and move for move. My hands held her by her slim waist as our bodies bucked and pounded.

Feeling the pressure building I resisted as long as I could. Finally she forced herself down on me and with my buried deeply inside her body she began her own climax. Of course this was more that any man could take and I joined her. We rode our climaxes until the world quieted. Then she slid off of me and snuggled down with her head on my chest and my hand cupping a perfect breast. We slept.

When I awoke in the morning I remembered everything. This in itself was odd. Then I noticed the smell. The smell that is caused by two bodies sharing the most intimate activities. I could smell her sex so strong it was a taste. My hands still remembered the feel of her flesh and my body remembered the feel of her hands upon it.

Slightly stunned by the aftereffects of my dream I uncovered. I was shocked to see the dried blood and other fluids the skin of my crotch and on the bedding. My dream lover had been real. I spent a long time sitting there trying to understand before I came to realize the truth. Sometime during the night one of the students had snuck into my tent and had sacrificed her virginity on the alter of my body. My God, what was I going to do? Nobody would ever believe that I thought the whole thing a dream.

Well, as you might guess I spent a long time trying to figure out who my dream lover had been. I never saw any sign from those present nor was there ever any hint of scandal. Then one day some years later I received this note in the mail.

Dear Headmaster Smythe,

Many a time I wished it had been possible to repeat our one night of bliss. I suppose that I raped you and for that I must beg forgiveness. However, I would not take my actions back. You must know that I loved you from afar for years and our time together still remains the best thing in my life.

I blush to write this but often it is your face I see and your body I feel as I make love to my husband or when I pleasure myself during his absences. You were my first love and lover. Know that you are still loved dearly. Think of me and maybe remember that night.

With all my love

Your loving student

Needless to say I have thought of her often and I must blush to say many was the time when I was alone at night I pleasured myself thinking of her young firm body and how it felt.

I still wish I that I knew who my dream lover was.

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