Wet Dreams

Just when are you supposed to stop having wet dreams?

I ask this question because a friend asked me the very same. I was speaking to him the other day when I mentioned that I totally messed myself up after a particular dream I had one evening. I dreamt I was on a boat filled with hot, naked and very horny men. You know, the orgy ship, Lollipop.

“You still get those?,” he asked, looking absolutely surprised.

“Yes, apparently. Don’t you?”

“No. I stopped having them in my late teens.”

“Really? Well, I haven’t had one in a really long time. But I did last night.”

“That’s good, I guess. Lucky bridge.”

Well, I don’t think he actually said ‘bridge’ but something that sounds similar. I couldn’t hear properly, you see. He spoke rather softly then.

Anyway, back to my wet dream. Picture it: big boat, big guys and big, ah, personalities. I don’t really remember how I ended up on the ship, though I don’t think that matters much in the whole scheme things, but I do remember being on it and mingling with the nuded up passengers. All sorts were there: leather daddies, muscled jocks, skinny twinks and even spunky Mormons.

I made my way through the crowd, heading to the bar for a drink, when topless Latino deliciousness grabbed me.

“Hola guapo. Estoy caliente.”

Before I could say “no hablo Espanol”, he’d grabbed me and proceeded to stick his tongue down my throat. You don’t need a translator to know that means he was pleased to see me.

Some tonsil hockey, a bit of groping and then somehow we ended up on a bed; he on top, and me with my ankles behind my ears. Obviously, my hamstrings aren’t nearly as tight in my dreams as they are in real life. He continued to mumble something in Spanish and then kissed me some more. I noticed he had a pair of sparkling blue eyes, like the deep blue waters of the ocean below us, and long curly locks surrounding his face. His lips were luscious and his chin chiselled. Sweat poured down from his face all the way to his manly, bulging pecs. He wanted me badly.

With a cheeky smile and a knowing nod, he whipped off the tight pair of briefs that contained his manhood. And what a manhood! It looked like a baby’s arm. I closed my eyes. Held my breath and braced myself for the inevitable.

And just as I was about to receive what sure to be the best riding of my life, I suddenly found myself in a muddy field with my Latino suitor suddenly replaced by a donkey. The ship was gone and so was my hunk!

Not liking the fact that I was now riding it, the ass started bucking wildly and I ended up landing in the mud. Covered in dirt, I tried getting up but instead fell flat on my face. Then suddenly, and to my utter horror, I found the donkey standing over me, sporting a huge donger. That’s when I woke. Thankfully.

Absolutely relieved that I came to before the dream went any further, I soon became aware of feeling something weird below. With a caution, I stuck a hand in my pyjamas and sure enough, my fingers came back sticky. Holy bloody donkey.

So, let me ask again, just when are you supposed to stop having wet dreams?

Don't be fooled by that innocent, toothy smile.
This donkey means business.