Yuppie's Dream Journal

Originally I was hesitant about publishing a dream of this nature; especially in such depth, but eventually the philosophy that dream journaling is most effective when done in detail governed my decision to proceed. The girl in question in my dream was once my girlfriend, but is now just a dear friend of mine.

I am in her room for some reason, and she stares intensely at me and tells me there’s something she wants to disclose. I smile and nod in encouragement. It’s difficult for her to reveal what she wants to say at first, and so she spends several moments blushing and breaking her eye contact with me by glancing at the floor. I insist that she can tell me, but she is still too shy, and thus I must reassure her by pointing out how close we are. She asks me if I can recall a particular sexual experience we had when we were dating back in high school. I laugh and tell her that she’ll have to be more specific. She asks if I remember the time we were in her room sitting on the floor and making out. She was pressed with her back against the door to prevent her parents from walking in. She bites her lip and asks if I remember how roughly I had groped her body, and how I had forcefully slid my hand down her pants. I look into her eyes and nod. My eyes roam elsewhere, but still on the plane of her body. She asks why it was only a once off occurrence, and why we never did anything similar involving that power dynamic for the rest of the time we dated. I shrug remorsefully and I am at a legitimate loss for words. The question hits me with considerable weight, and I feel a sense of disappointment wash over me when I reflect over all the missed opportunities. “I really don’t even have an answer to that” I say as I stare into her doe-like eyes. She giggles. “I loved it, it was so exciting”. I reciprocate her laughter, “I know”, I tease, “I remember you telling me how much you liked it at the time”.

She blushes, and then: “Listen, I’ve been thinking about how I’ve never really had the chance to properly experience anything like that since we broke up”. I nod enthusiastically in agreement. “I completely understand where you’re coming from, I am in the exact same boat.” She stares at me with burning intensity. “I want you to make me feel like you did all those years ago.” I do not protest. We have a lengthy discussion detailing our various kinks and desires. We start off experimenting with ways in which she would like to be referred to. It’s fun and games initially as we roll through the list of potential candidates. “Whore, slut, princess”, etc. They are hit and miss. Some she likes, some she doesn’t. We roll around in laughter at some of her suggestions and some of my suggestions. Eventually though, the laughter subsides, and I notice that she is legitimately getting turned on from some of the names. We decide together on a suitable variety of options, and then we decided to move on. She asks me what’s next. I ask her whether she’s been a good girl or a bad girl. She grins and says she’s been bad. I tell her to lay over my lap. Seeing we are on separate ends of her bed, initially she begins to simply shuffle over. I shake my head and tell her to go back to her side of the bed, and crawl over to me instead. She nods obediently. “Yes, sir.”

Once she is within reaching distance I grab her and pull her roughly the rest of the way until she is perched across my lap. She moans. I am veritably astonished by how much she seems to enjoy being controlled. I run my hand up and down her bare legs, and ask her what she deserves. She tells me she deserves a spanking. I agree: “very good, that’s right.” I fold her skirt over her waist, revealing her perfect ass. My hand roams around the lower half of her body, teasing her. I come dangerously close to her pleasure zone several times, and I can feel her rocking on my lap, subtly begging to be touched there. I shake my head “you really are a bad girl.” She is denied such a luxury. I get to work and begin spanking her until I decide she has had enough. I can literally feel the warmth and wetness of her radiating outwards towards my hand. I trace my finger up and down underwear for several minutes, until it seems as if she may potentially go insane from the teasing. She wants it so badly.
Finally, she is begging for it. “Please”, she moans. I pull her up by her hair towards me, so that my lips are at her ear, and say something I will refrain from writing down. I slide her underwear down her legs, and momentarily consider shoving her panties in her mouth, but decide against it because of how much I like hearing her moan. I struggle to comprehend how wet she is. I slide my finger inside of her slowly. I delicately brush past her clit while I am penetrating her with my finger, but only so that it is just barely perceptible. I repeat this process until she is on the brink of an orgasm, and then stop. “Please” she begs, practically crying out of lust and frustration. “You’re going to have to work for it – show me that you can be a good girl instead of a bad girl.” She agrees, “Yes sir.” It’s not as if she has any real choice in the matter. I sit up against the wall positioned next to her bed, and motion for her to come to me. “Come here baby.” She crawls over, just like she’s been taught. She is learning. I call her a good girl, approvingly. I kiss her deeply. I trace my finger around her lips, and she opens her mouth immediately and takes in my finger, sucking desperately. I remove my finger and shake my head. I chastise her: “don’t be greedy”.

I figure I might be acting a little hard on her, so I decide to indulge the girl and provide her with a reward. I remove all her clothes and become momentarily mesmerised by her striking beauty. I tell her to kneel on the floor for me. She wastes no time. Without the need for encouragement she unzips my pants. Her evident lust for it turns me on immensely, I love how badly she wants it. I instruct her to stick her tongue out. I stay there for a while just watching. “PLEASE” she begs, with her big brown eyes. I oblige, and eventually I am crammed into her mouth. She makes vivid noises of delight.

Eventually I order her to drape herself over the table, and present herself to me. I eagerly walk over and insert myself inside of her, and become overwhelmed with the sensation. We try several things that she told me she wanted earlier. I hold her hands behind her back, pull her hair, etc. I feel very fulfilled about how happy she seems. The physical sensation is rewarding, but what I find even more wholesome is listening to her moans of pleasure. Eventually I tell her I’m going to come, and she insists that it be inside of her. (Her actual phrase was a bit more explicit, but I’m trying to keep this journal RELATIVELY clean.) I wake up.