Another Dream Come True

The cabin was small, made of dark wood, dimly lit by lanterns that flickered without wind. It smelled like pine, like something cooking, though there was no stove, no food. The air was warm. Everything was warm.

He stood in the center of the room, unsure if he had just arrived or if he had always been there.

The floor creaked behind him. He turned.

She was there.

Her dress was soft, thin, slipping off one shoulder. Her skin was warm, her eyes darker in the lantern glow. Her lips curved like she knew something he didn’t. She stepped closer, bare feet silent against the wood.

“Eliza,” Joey said as her dress fell to the floor, her body seeming to glow in the evening light.

She smiled, stepping closer. He wanted her. He needed her. He could feel her even though he wasn’t touching her.

Then she was not Eliza.

Madison, tilting her head, lips glossy, hair spilling over her shoulder. She reached out for him, eyes hungry for him, pleading, begging.

He blinked.

Bianca, her mouth soft, unsure, almost to him, drawn to him, ever closer.

He opened his mouth, wanted to say something, but his throat was thick.

She pressed against him, warm and real, her breath on his neck. His whole body was hot. Her touch was soft, revealing that he, too, was naked.

They were on the bed. Rolling, touching. She mewled in desperation, her hand on his erection. She wanted him to take her.

"Bianca," he breathed as she kissed his neck, then his chest, then his stomach.

Not Bianca. His mother.

His stomach clenched. He should have moved, stepped back, said something. But the air was heavy, like a thick syrup coating everything, slowing him down.

Her fingers ran up his thighs. Her lips found his cock.

Joey’s world exploded in sensation. He began to thrust, the hot, wet feeling of her mouth blocking out all anxiety, all guilt.

"Yes," he sighed, looking down at his lover. Eliza. Madison. Bianca. His mother. Joey could no longer tell the difference. They were the same woman. He wanted her. He put his hands in her hair and held her firm against his groin. There was no resistance. She knew her place, her role. Joey thrust. He thrust. He thrust.

And he found release. An explosion of bliss rocked his body as Joey erupted like a volcano. He shook. He held tightly to his lover’s hair.

He woke up.

Joey was no stranger to waking from a wet dream. He knew that the orgasm would roll through him like a freight train, that he would be unable to stop it. The mess could be cleaned later, he had more sheets, more clothes. There was really no reason to be upset.

Well, that was normally.

This time, waking up, the sensations of the dream didn't entirely stop.

Looking down, Joey found his hands tangled in locks of dark brown. His erection should have been making a mess of his bedsheets, his shirt, his underwear, but instead, it was enveloped in warmth. The woman between his legs was eagerly swallowing every drop that he produced, moaning in pleasure as she did.

"Mom?!" Joey whispered in shock, taking his hands from her head.

She didn't move. Her mouth, still sensing that his orgasm hadn't fully subsided, remained encasing his cock, her tongue gently rubbing the underside as she took in wave after wave of hot, sticky fluid.

"Mom!" he whispered again. The shock of seeing her was beginning to take effect, bringing his penis back to its flaccid resting state. When it had fully deflated, she let it slip from her mouth, gave it a quick kiss, then looked up at him with a smile.

"I'm sorry," she whispered back to him, "I hope I didn't wake you."

"Mom! What the hell?" He scooted back from her, pulling his sheets over his groin, covering up, "Why did you do that?!"

"Joey, baby," she cooed, "You know as well as I do that I'm here for your sexual gratification. I popped my head in to check on you before I went to bed and I could see by the state of your beautiful cock that you were having an exciting dream, and since it's my role to take care of that kind of situation..."

"You can't just come into my room and suck my cock, mom," he whispered again, feeling a strange mixture of arousal and horror, "Haven't you ever heard of consent?" Then he remembered the most recent change to his mother, that he could order her around. He took action. "Seriously, mom, I order you to not do that anymore."

"Excuse me, young man," her tone turned stern, "You may be able to order me around, but I am still your mother. If I see that my son is in need of sexual gratification, then I will take care of it. Besides," her smirk appeared again, "I can't deny how much and how strongly I'm drawn to you. You're practically irresistible, my perfect guy."

Joey groaned. He had no idea how to fix it. His mother was infatuated with him, and it was all his fault. Not even sleeping in his own room was safe anymore. Maybe he needed to upgrade the lock on his door.

But it was worse than that. Joey had just experienced his first blowjob, and instead of it being given by a girlfriend, a wife, anyone he was in a sexual relationship with, it was from his own mother. From that day forward, whenever he would have a blowjob, his first comparison would be from this one, waking up, seeing her between his legs.

"Baby," she whispered softly, pausing to kiss his inner thigh, "Don't worry too much about it. I didn't mind you holding my hair. You're allowed to touch me however and whenever you want. If I'm being honest, it was kind of fun. Want to go again?"

Joey groaned.

"Mom," he said, choosing his words carefully, "Thank-you for the visit, but now I want you to go back to your own bed. I need to be left alone for the rest of the night."

"Don't you think I should check in on you later?" she asked, "In case you're having another dream?"

"I'll be fine," he said, then added, "I never have more than one wet dream in a night."

It was a lie, but his mother didn't need to know that. What was important was that she leave. Joey couldn't let this behaviour become normal. He needed to find a way to keep separation between the two of them.

"Maybe check in with dad," he said, "If you're feeling all hot and bothered, couldn't you and him..."

"With your father?!" she said, her whisper getting louder, "I don't want some gross muscle-bound jock. What is this, the 1950s? Besides, it's not unreasonable for me to want him to keep his hands to himself. He doesn't own me."

"What..."

"Joey," she said, crawling up toward his face, "I'm here for you, not him. I don't think I could ever want a man like that. I'll leave you alone because you ordered me to, but no matter what you tell me to do, no matter what you **** me to do, I'll never want that man. Even you can't make me do that."

She leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. Then she crawled off the bed and walked out of the room, leaving Joey lying there, alone, awash in feelings he had no idea how to reconcile.

It was a long time before he fell asleep again.

A very long time.