It was not just a dream; it was a wet dream—of orgasmic proportions. It was my first time and it was way beyond anything I could have imagined.
When people talk of first experiences, it is as a mixed bag. A spectrum of extremes; there is the brilliant dazzle of awesome forget-me-notness, with the attendant afterglow or the terrible, frustrating flicker of fires stoked but denied the chance to burn. Then there is the lacklustre, fuzzy, in-between of neither pleasure nor pain breeding indifference that wonders what the fuss had been about.
I escaped the last two, quite happily. You see, I had been told I could not do it. In addition, several warnings of what would befall me if I dared were issued. I guess it is those that created in me a desire for that very thing and to prove them wrong.
This is the first time. Others will follow, I swear it by my yet-to-be-laid eggs. They say chickens cannot fly but I just did!
I flew all the way from the roof to the ground.
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