Stars Dancing [Dreams-To-Lovers Romance]

I can't stop dreaming of a woman desperately begging me to fuck her.

What is wrong with me?

File name: Untold Stories

Passcode: 8675309

Journal

I woke up because my bladder was full. My eyes open, I lay there a bit more. I was relaxed and drowsy from a deep sleep, barely awake. Could I go back to sleep? Did I want to, or did I want to get up and pee? I didn't want to get up. I was feeling more than the near painful need to pee; I felt desire. Memories of the man, my dream man in the hot tub with me. I breathed a few moments and observed like the book had instructed.

What were the sensations in my body right now? Desire and urinary urgency. Were the two sensations related? The bladder nerve was separate from the clitoral nerve, but they were connected at their roots in the sacral nerve plexus. What was the reason that the bladder felt pain, but the clitoris felt desire? Were pain and pleasure the same feeling? How could my body feel pain and pleasure at the same time? And why would it? I didn't understand the way my body worked.

Did I know anything at all?

I wanted to stroke my clitoris, softly, lightly, just barely, and that was the feeling that dominated— the need to pee took second stage as desire wound through my body. I observed it all, like a scientist, but like a lover. I could be two things at the same time, couldn't I? I could observe myself and pleasure myself. I could need to pee and need to come.

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I used mango seed butter, still using the pad of my left middle finger. In counter clockwise circles now. Just on my clit. A little more pressure. I observed how my clitoris tightened and grew plump. I observed how my nipples perked. I observed the feelings of want and need. I observed my self- that inner person who was me. I felt quietly intimate with my own self. Like a tender lover.

I let that feeling rise up. I love myself, I thought. I loved feeling this soft appreciation for my body and the core being of my own inner self. I loved feeling this way— soft, tender, like a gentle lover's kiss. I observed my bladder was still urging me to pee. I quieted and stilled.

I had to make a decision. Get up and pee or finish. Could I finish when I needed to pee so much?

"This is a really stupid exercise from the dumbest erotica book ever!" I thought to myself as I got up to pee.

But I was lonely and wanted my dream lover. After all, wasn't he the reason I was doing the erotica exercises? I turned over onto my stomach. I wanted him. I wanted my man behind me. I allowed myself to think about it. To think about him behind me, rubbing my clit with his fingers, pushing himself into me, thick and hard, groaning against my neck. I wanted my dream lover. I wanted him like that, right here, right now. My body grew tense, and I went back into observer mode as recommended by the book.

I smiled. I felt soft inside. Tender towards myself. It was soft and gentle, not rough and raging. "Let yourself go," I thought. And release washed through me. I observed it and noticed everything that my body did and felt. I was quiet inside myself. It was beautiful—the quiet, intimate kindness with myself. I loved myself, gently and tenderly.

I hadn't felt him, my dream lover. It had only been thoughts of him. But it was a start. I'd keep going through the Tindin erotica exercises in The Art And Practice Of Conception, and maybe somehow I'd reach him. The book said to record my observations, so I opened my notebook.

Could I write something so personal, so intimate?

And why? Someday, would someone, somewhere, read it?