Maybe the Dream Knows What’s Real – Part Seven – Novella by Steve Grogan

novella

Steve Grogan is an ongoing contributor to Writer to Writers. He has published several short stories on the site, which can be found on the main page under the heading “Steve Grogan’s fiction.” He has had several poems and short stories published over the years, some of which are available on Amazon. (See the announcement at the end of this post.)

He is the writer and creator of the ongoing, zombie, post-apocalyptic, Romero-meets-Dungeons-and-Dragons webcomic REDemption. Alternatively, Steve describes the comic by saying, “It is to zombie fiction what KILL BILL was to kung fu movies: everything I love about the genre housed under one roof and mixed with my voice.”

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A few days later Lindsay came over to my place again. We had been hanging out almost every day since that night we met, but we never made it back to my apartment. On New Year’s Eve she had wanted to see me, but I had already made plans to be with Jeff. She was saddened by my absence because New Year’s was also her birthday, but what was I supposed to do? Let down my best friend of two years for a girl I had known for two weeks? Friends are supposed to be forever. Relationships come and go. I elected to go to Jeff’s house. (He might have mocked me pretty hard about Lindsay, but I always found it in my heart to forgive the guy.)

Although I felt bad, my decision to go actually worked in my favor. At the time I didn’t realize it, but I was playing hard to get. It was unintentional, but it made Lindsay pursue me even more passionately. This made me so full of pride that I didn’t even know what to do with myself. I never had a female pursue me; it was always the other way around. What was I to do? How could I handle it?

To be adored, to experience another human being expressing physical and emotional affection toward me, to know there is no wall between my soul and theirs, to feel how freely the emotions flow from me to that other person, to have the message scratched into the very core of my heart and mind that I am the only one she loves and the only one with whom she wants to be and the only one she wants to make love to and the only one whose company she prefers to anyone else.

That was all I wanted, which really wasn’t a hell of a lot, the only desire filtering through my thoughts that was worthy of my time, the only one I wanted to be real, the only one I always pursued and the only one I was constantly denied.

My purpose in life was to fulfill that dream before I died. Leave it to me to have a dream that I can’t realize without the help of another human being! And just at a time when the number of horrible people in the world is at an all-time high! These days you can’t trust anyone. You could be acquainted with people for years and think you know them inside and out, but out of nowhere they betray you the first chance they get, especially if that betrayal allows them a chance to better THEIR lives.

Liars are everywhere now. Many years ago, I used to automatically give people my trust and hope they didn’t do anything to prove they didn’t deserve it. Now I take the opposite approach: people need to earn my trust first. Jeff taught me to be skeptical with new people, taught me to question them to death and then some before I believed what they said. He taught me a form of interrogation not unlike that used by the police who drill a suspect repeatedly, hoping their story will change and give them the clue they need to either convict the suspect or to pursue further investigation.

I owe the guy a lot, but we lost touch years ago. Such a shame, because I never took the time to say “thank you.”

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As I was saying, Lindsay and I were finally alone in my bedroom again. It all started out so innocently. Just the two of us on my bed watching a movie. She was on her left side. I was in a similar position and close behind her, my right arm across her stomach, my left arm propping up my head.

Her right hand covered mine like paper covers rock. She rubbed our hands back and forth across her belly. I looked at her face while she watched the movie, and I realized what I saw in her features was true beauty. True love. At least that was what I saw there at that moment. And I wanted desperately to believe it wasn’t going to fade, that it wasn’t an illusion, that in future mornings when the sun rose to make the sky bleed a pink hue across its morning flesh I would see her face, feel her figure lying beside me. There was no reason for me to doubt this would all come true.

My lips caressed the soft, warm flesh at the base of her neck while these thoughts raced through my mind. There was something I wanted to say to her. The words weren’t big, but they could be hurtful. In that sense some words are like hand grenades: so small, but they can cause so much damage.

I decided to risk it. You only live once. Why spend it being scared? So I pulled the pin on that fucker and risked getting shredded by the shrapnel.

And I whispered in her ear, “I love you, Lindsay.”

She looked back at me and said, “I love you, too.”

I was stunned. Had she gotten up and left, I would have known how to handle that because I was used to rejection, but she had expressed the same sentiment, and I could tell by her tone that she meant it. Her voice was full of the fire and strength it took to weigh the air down with such words. Now what should I do? (It’s quite a sad world we live in, isn’t it, when rejection is easier to handle than acceptance?)

She turned around and embraced me, fastening her lips to mine once she was in my arms. Lying there with her like that, I knew who I was and who I had always been, knew my view of myself as the lonely loser no one could love was wrong, knew all those afternoons spent alone did not matter, knew that all those neighborhood baseball and basketball games I missed did not matter, knew that the melody of my soul was shining, knew that I could live up to the declaration I had made, that I was the best person she had or ever would have as a boyfriend, knew that I had made my share of mistakes but they didn’t matter to Lindsay, not here, not now, not ever.

I knew and knew FOR SURE AT THAT MOMENT that Lindsay and I would love each other forever, knew that the rivers of my heart were there for her to swim, only her, the devotion was all for her.

So what was I to do other than cut ties with all the other women that wanted me? Fortunately, there were only two at that point: Tiffany and Joanna. They both had children and therefore were in situations to which I did not want to attach myself. With Joanna, there was no trouble in cutting her out of my life. After all, she and I hadn’t talked for weeks. The solution was as simple as not calling her anymore, so I lucked out on that one.

With Tiffany, there was some difficulty because I had no reason to end it. She was technically doing nothing wrong, but there was her kid, and the fact that she was on welfare, and the fact that she always did things that common sense should have let her think “hey maybe this would upset him” and yet she went ahead and did those things anyway, like calling me Saturday morning at five a.m., like giving her psychotic friend Barb my phone number so she could prank call me all times of day and night, like raising her son with no discipline so he grew up thinking it was okay for him to TOUCH ANYTHING HE DAMN WELL PLEASED, and of course she had to bring him with her every time we hung out because he was so unruly that no one would watch him, and every time he visited he would always wind up breaking something, one time even breaking a glass that DID NOT BELONG TO ME which caused hell to be raised between myself and one of my roommates.

Once I considered all these things, it was easy to tell Tiffany our relationship was finished, leaving Lindsay and I free to pursue our future.

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Lindsay and I saw each other almost every day, but I am not going to bore you with the banalities of every encounter. No, I would prefer to skip to the time when the level of our intimacy took a quantum leap in intensity.

We were on my bed, making out but fully clothed. Her lips and body were firmly in my grasp, manipulated by the pleasure I gave their owner. However, for all the enjoyment she felt, I had none of my own because I was willfully suppressing all sensations. This is an ability I’ve possessed ever since my sex life began: I could hold off forever if I wanted.

The reasoning behind using this power was simple: for years, I’d heard woman after woman complain about how their partners always finished before them, and then did nothing to make sure they achieved orgasm. So I vowed that I would be different from most men, and I have lived up to that promise. Sometimes I never even reach orgasm; the lovemaking ends when we are both too tired to continue.

Soon Lindsay’s upper torso was bare, and my hands shot to her breasts. My lips kissed their way down her body, passing over her belly (which was the source of her shame but was so wonderful to me), my fingers wandering all over her firm ass and legs, a landscape of beauty to me.

She was on her back, legs spread, my tongue exploring her pussy and mixing my saliva with her juices. Meanwhile I had put my hands to work releasing my cock from its denim trap. After licking her to orgasm and removing my jeans, I wiped my mouth dry and kissed Lindsay. Then we switched positions: I was on my back while Lindsay put her tongue to use, giving my cock a good old-fashioned tongue lashing.

Moments later, Lindsay climbed up my body. She kissed me while she took hold of my cock to guide it into her. My flesh tingled all over my body as I sank into her slippery cunt. Slowly she let herself accept my entire length and then began moving up and down. To avoid feeling like a lazy partner, I took hold of her hips and thrust up into her, timing myself with her movements so I didn’t slip out.

With one hand, I reached between us to massage her clit while my other reached around to squeeze her ass. I was nervous to do anything more than that because I remembered having hurt her the last time. However, I figured it would be better for us to get back into the swing of things, so without further ado I stuck the middle finger of the ass-grabbing hand into my mouth and got it all good and slick with saliva. Then I reached back around again, waiting to hear her objection. None came.

I rubbed my finger up and down the crack of her ass, briefly touching the virgin passage. Gradually I found my nerve and pushed my fingertip into her. She didn’t seem to mind, so my finger’s adventure continued some more. Soon my entire digit had slid up her ass. Lindsay hadn’t made one complaint during the whole process. On the contrary, she was gasping for more. The action of my cock, my finger on her clit, and the other finger in her ass sent her rocketing into a series of orgasms that poured over her like rain.

It was a glorious moment, a moment when the tightest, sweetest, and hottest pussy in the world held my cock. Its owner was happy to accept my flesh as a visitor. And I thought to myself: you will not have to find any comfort in misery again! Here is a young woman whose flesh, mind, and soul all ache and sweat and groan and strain for you, and you alone! No more crying in the dark or pursuing shadows that your mind created! On top of your prick there is a physical reality that can smash all your dreams, to help them crash into the waking world. This beautiful woman loves you.

Love is riding your cock of youth and honesty. Love is asking you to fuck her in the ass. There is nothing too disgusting or unusual when I am with her. Every act with her is an act of lovemaking. Even though I am about to have anal intercourse with you, Lindsay, I will still be making love with you.

“Get on your hands and knees,” I said.

She did as I asked. There was her wonderfully firm ass hovering before me. I retrieved a tube of lubricant from my top dresser drawer and squirted some into my hand. I rubbed it generously across her asshole. Meanwhile I was insider her pussy again because I didn’t want to go limp while I waited until she was sufficiently lubricated. Finally, I thought she was ready.

Lindsay was taller than me so it was very difficult to find a way to maneuver myself into her. I pushed and kept slipping down into her pussy or up so that my cock was just resting in the crack of her ass. After a while I got the idea to put my left leg up on the bed. That did the trick.

Slowly I pushed into her. This, for those of you who did not know it, was the first time I was ever with a girl who did not weigh a ton, so I was able to see what happened as I entered. Her asshole blossomed slightly, just enough to let me in. It was nearly enough to make me come on the spot, but I quickly summoned up my anti-orgasm superpower and managed to suppress the urge.

Lindsay was quiet as the penetration began. Without any sign to tell how she felt, I didn’t know how I should proceed, or if I should continue at all. I decided to press on.

Still nothing from her. I became concerned. Was she enjoying this, or was she suffering in silence because she knew I wanted to try it?

I said, “Let me know if I should go in anymore, honey. You’ve got to tell me when to push more in. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Keep going,” she said.

I inserted a bit of my shaft into her, not much past the head.

“Keep going.”

More in, maybe halfway to completion.

“Go on.”

Some more…almost done now.

“Go.”

All the way in now. There I stood and there she knelt (well, crouched) on the bed, my cock fully embedded in her ass and no movement or sounds passing between us.

Just the unification of flesh to communicate.

“How’s that?” I asked.

“It hurts,” she said.

The statement was nearly enough to make me go limp on the spot.

While pulling out I said, “Lindsay, why didn’t you say something? I told you I didn’t want to hurt you and then you let me go ahead and do it. Why did you tell me to keep going if it was hurting you?”

“I don’t know. I like pain. I just didn’t realize how much I could take before it wasn’t pleasurable anymore,” she said. “We’re not going to give up just yet though. Let’s try it like this.”

She laid down on her right side facing away from me. I stood there astonished, my mouth agape, surprised that she wanted to try it again.

I got behind her on the bed. My right arm slid around her to grab her breasts. Kissing her neck always helped to get her horny, so I started that activity. Meanwhile down below my left hand steadied my cock to guide it into her ass. I pressed into her again. Her hole opened more readily to accept me. Something about this position made it easier for her, and she could take it at a faster rate, as if she had been practicing anal sex for months. Lindsay told me to keep going, told me that it felt good. Soon I was all the way inside again, but this time there was no pain.

“Oh God,” she moaned, “that feels amazing.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “It doesn’t hurt at all?”

“No,” she said. “Now fuck me.”

I started to slowly pump my cock in and out of her ass. Lindsay started groaning. She was short of breath. It was incredible to experience first-hand how much anal sex turned her on once it didn’t hurt. The tightness of her pussy had been wonderful, but the grip of her until-now virgin ass on my flesh was even more mind-blowing.

I thought of fucking her the way I think of target practice. Getting my cock into her was just like aiming my gun. Fucking her was like testing the wind and getting ready to pull the trigger. Firing a shot would mean not only my orgasm but hers as well.

As these thoughts whirled around inside my head, I set about playing with her clit while continuing to fuck her in the ass. It didn’t take long for this to trigger a reaction.

“Oh God…oh God…I’m coming, I’m coming!” she shouted.

My whole body was on fire. I thought of how turned on she was and how turned on it made me feel, this hot girl not only wanting me but letting me be the first to fuck her in the ass, this act now a reality as we lay on the bed side by side. Someday I would be a legend…a rock and roll legend, a filmmaking legend, a literary legend…and I wanted this beauty to be there to share the glory of fame with me. All these thoughts caused the fever in every limb to suddenly surge right into my cock, flooding every nerve end to the breaking point and I came, releasing a tremendous amount of semen into the condom. It seemed my ejaculation would never cease. My muscles kept twitching even when the last squirt had emptied into the rubber.

At long last, my orgasm came to an end. Even though I was spent beyond belief my cock refused to soften. I tried pulling out, but Lindsay protested.

“Just stay put,” she said.

I honored her request. It took quite a while for me to go limp. Until then we remained there in each other’s arms, the sweat of my chest and stomach mingling with the sweat of her back. My lips were at her neck and jawline. She was smiling and giggling. The world was perfect, and we were perfect. We were beautiful. For a moment, I believed love could be true.

Eventually I was too soft to remain inside her. Lindsay sighed as I slipped out.

“Even THAT felt good,” she said.

She turned to face me and pulled me into an embrace again.

“I’m glad you were my first.”

“Me too,” I said. “I love you, Lindsay.”

“I love you too,” she said while kissing my cheek. “You know, I think we were meant to be together.”

When she said it, I felt I could believe it. I wanted it to be real. It dawned on me that when my past relationships had crashed and burned, their destruction was more annoying than heartbreaking. This was the first relationship I wanted to work.

And for a while it did.

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If you like what you have read and would like to purchase this serialized novel as one complete PDF, then please send $2 to Steve via PayPal: wcman1976@yahoo.com

Also, don’t forget to check out his other writing at the following links below:

REDemption

Steve’s Amazon Author Page

Steve’s Writer to Writers Publications

Author: Redemption Comics

Steve Grogan was born in the often-filmed city of Troy, NY. He has written in a variety of formats (novels, short stories, poems, screen and stage plays, blogs/articles) and genres (horror, science fiction, fantasy, mystery, drama).

Steve is also a father, a boyfriend, a musician, a fitness fanatic, and a martial artist. He has been studying Wing Chun Kung Fu since 1995, and he maintains a blog/YouTube channel that describe his training habits, epiphanies, and advancement. It also candidly discusses his stumbling blocks, such as his struggle with nutrition and mental health issues.

He is no relation to the New England Patriots quarterback from the 1980’s.

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