The following piece of fiction contains strong sexual
content and is meant to be read only by adults. If you
are not at least 18 years old, or if you are offended by
this type of material, please do not read any further.
"What Mary Needs"
It starts, as usual, with a feeling of free-fall.
Exhilarating and terrifying, plunging and accelerating toward
a mysterious landscape below. Then, with no apparent change
in motion, she realizes she is actually flying, traveling
parallel to the ground. At first there is joy and a giddy
feeling of relief, then there is a tinge of dread, which
starts in her gut and grows and spreads through her limbs as
the landscape darkens and the flight becomes a journey with
an unpleasant destination. Then the feeling of motion stops,
and the fear is joined with sexual longing, and her body
starts to respond. The sequence of emotions, experienced so
many times now, remains new and fresh - such is the strange
power of the dreaming mind.
She feels lost and alone, as if she is a thousand miles
from home. She feels helpless and stupid and unskilled.
And she aches with desire.
He woke from a deep, dreamless sleep when she lashed out
with her arm and hit him in the back. No longer startled or
confused when this happened, he calmly reached up into the
darkness and switched on the reading light, flooding the bed
with a warm, yellow glow. Three a.m. She was tangled in the
bedcovers, the blue top sheet twisted around her torso,
pinning one arm beneath her. She was shaking her head slowly
back and forth, saying "No, don't leave me here" over and
over again in a pitiful little-girl voice.
"Wake up, honey. Bad dream." He squeezed her shoulder
firmly, and she slowly relaxed, the tension draining visibly
from her face. Then her eyes opened and she gave him a
"What...? Oh. Damn. What was I doing?"
"Moaning and thrashing, as usual. What do you
She thought about it, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes,
and finally shook her head.
"Nothing new. Falling, flying, scared, horny. Same
shit, different night."
"Mary, this has to stop. Maybe you should see a
"I'm seeing Dr. Lundquist tomorrow. Today."
"I mean a medical doctor. Maybe there's a physical
"Dr. Lundquist says there isn't."
Fuck Dr. Lundquist. "How about what we talked about
"Oh Joe, I don't know...I'll ask Dr. Lundquist."
Great. "Are you horny now?"
"No, I'm all right," she lied. She slipped out of bed
and padded into the bathroom. When she came back he was
asleep. She straightened the sheets and climbed back into
bed. Her hand drifted automatically down her stomach, under
the waistband of her shorts, through the soft thatch of hair
to her moist, slippery sex. Listening to her husband's slow,
even breathing, she quickly brought herself to a quiet but
satisfying climax. Only then did she shut off the light.
Dr. Lundquist was, as usual, reassuring, patient, and
unhelpful. Truthfully, he was mystified by the pretty, well-
adjusted woman and her strange sexual nightmares.
"Have you been able to recall any specifics? People,
Mary shook her head, feeling guilty, like she wasn't
pulling her weight. "No. I have a feeling like I'm waiting
for someone. Like I was taken to a far off place to see
"But they never show up?"
"I guess not. Not yet."
He made a note on his pad, like this was significant.
There was a short silence, and she gathered her courage.
"Can I ask you a few questions?"
"Why would I be...sexually aroused... at the same time
that I'm feeling lost and confused?"
Lundquist made another note on his pad and she felt a
flash of irritation.
"There are several possible reasons. It could indicate
a problem in your relationship with your husband, for
"My marriage is fine. At least it was before these damn
dreams started." They had been through this many times, and
she had an urge to shake things up. "Do you think I could
have been abused as a child?"
If the question surprised Lundquist, he didn't show it.
"Unlikely. The fact that you become sexually aroused
indicates against it."
She took a deep breath and said "My husband... What
would happen if I was to, uh, have sex while dreaming? If I
was to have an orgasm, maybe it would bring some sort of
closure...?" Her voice was steady, but her cheeks were
The in the white coat shook his head. "That
could be dangerous and disruptive. If you were to wake up in
the middle of a sexual experience, it could be very
"Like waking a sleepwalker?"
"But what's the worst that could happen?"
Lundquist shrugged. "I don't think it will help. It
would confuse the issue of where the dreams are coming from."
"I don't give a shit where they are coming from," she
thought. Just make them go away.
"OK," she said. "It was just an idea."
Back at work, sitting at her neatly organized desk, she
couldn't concentrate on her files. She watched her coworkers
scurrying around, concerned looks on their faces, and
wondered what it all meant. Why it had once seemed so
important. Finally she took a calendar out of her bottom
drawer and placed in on the glass writing surface in front of
her. There were no events or appointments written into it,
just small cryptic notations and numbers in the corners of
some of the days. She studied it for a while, made a few
entries, and then put it away.
That night, after dinner, she watched Joe as he did the
dishes. His hands, encased in yellow rubber gloves, moved
methodically under the stream of hot water, steadily filling
the drainer with dripping plates and gleaming glasses. He
had a blank, faraway expression on his face, and she wondered
what he was thinking about. A few years ago she would have
asked. Something to do with his research, probably: Joe was
a Ph.D. student, mired in a research project that never
seemed to make any progress.
She moved behind him, slipping her arms around his
waist and pressing her into his back. It was one of
their standard marital cuddles, and he turned his head and
"How was the appointment?"
She shrugged. "I don't think we're getting anywhere.
"I've been thinking about your idea. Still want to do
He grinned. "Of course. What did Lundquist say?"
"I don't know. He was sort of neutral. I can never pin
him down on anything. But I don't see what it could hurt."
He turned around in her arms, and gave her a kiss.
"Good. Now I can't wait for bedtime."
She felt the bulge in the front of his sweatpants, and
it dawned on her that this was a turn-on for Joe. She had
sort of idly assumed that rubbing her off in her sleep would
be about as exciting as washing dishes.
"I see you like the idea of having sex with an
unconscious woman," she said lightly, rubbing her stomach
against his erection.
"Absolutely. I was thinking I could invite some friends
over, let them join in." He slid his hands down over her ass
"Hah. Are you going to actually have sex with me? I
thought you would just rub me." They rarely talked openly
about sex like this, and she found it arousing. Impulsively,
she slid her hand down into his sweatpants. His cock was
bent awkwardly against his leg, and she gently released it.
"I was going to play it by ear. See what happens, see
whether it looks like I'm waking you up. You don't want me
to? Hey, that feels good."
"No, that's all right...you might as well enjoy
yourself." She was gripping his shaft now, pushing her fist
up and down a few inches. He slid his hands up the front of
her and closed them around her small breasts, and she
gasped with surprise.
"What the...? Oh, you still have the gloves on! That
feels so weird."
He lifted her t-shirt over her head, and they both
laughed at the sight of the bright yellow gloves against her
white skin. The ends of the fingers had ridges to improve
the grip, and they provided an almost painful stimulation to
"Like fooling around with a character," she
giggled. She thought about going into the bedroom and having
sex, initiating the predictable sequence of events:
foreplay, intercourse, hot shower.
"Maybe I better take care of you now, while I'm awake."
She pushed his sweatpants and underwear down and dropped to
her knees. She wouldn't admit it to her husband, but she
found the position of being on her knees cock to be
strangely sexy. It was every man's fantasy, wasn't it -
being orally serviced by a subservient woman.
Joe anxiously pushed his cock at her, but she playfully
closed her mouth and just tantalized him with little strokes
of her tongue, meticulously coating his cock with a
glistening layer of saliva. Then she made an O with her lips
and started fucking him with her mouth, and he groaned in
appreciation and started thrusting into her, seeking more and
more, pressing the swollen head against the back of her
"Oh babe, that's so good..."
Her head was suddenly gripped in a firm, rubbery vise as
he held her with both hands and spastically rammed in and out
of her mouth. A musky taste on the back of her tongue, and
then her mouth filled with the sticky, choking liquid.
He pulled her to her feet, and wiped his semen off her
chin with an apologetic smile. "Did I get too carried away?
"No...that's all right."
He didn't think he would be able to sleep with the tight
ball of sexual anticipation squirming in his stomach, but
when she began crying out he had finally drifted into an
uneasy, light slumber, from which he woke instantly. His
excitement returned in a rush as he cautiously spoke her
name, and his painfully stiff erection rubbed against the
sheet as he turned toward her. She was babbling to herself,
a flow of pleading nonsense syllables occasionally
interrupted by a clear word like "water" or "home."
He reached over and slid her nightshirt up to her
stomach. When he put his hand on her warm thigh she spread
her legs and shifted her hips, giving him access. He was
surprised by how hot and slippery she was - "She never gets
this way for me" was the uncharitable thought that came to
mind. He dipped his finger into her, coating it with her
juice, and began gently frigging her, using the familiar
rhythm and accustomed pressure.
She responded at first, taking deep breaths and moving
with him, and he wondered if she would wake before she
climaxed. But then her response changed, and he could sense
that she was no longer on track for an orgasm. Her hips
twisted in an unfamiliar pattern, and he had the sudden odd
feeling that it wasn't his any more, but a stranger in
He quickly stripped off his and boxer shorts, and
then carefully positioned himself over her, supporting
himself on his elbows. He prodded at her cautiously with his
rigid cock, and then sunk into her with a glorious plunge.
She froze for an instant, and said "yes", and then she began
to jerk and twitch underneath him, still lost in her
dreamworld. He thrust into her slowly, trying to match her
pace, but she wasn't cooperating, and he eventually found it
best to remain still, letting her seemingly random motions
create the coitus.
She was all alone, as usual, and confused, but something
was different. Someone was approaching, someone she had
never met, but whom she had always loved. Someone beautiful.
The joy inside her was too much to be contained and she found
herself writhing and straining, longing for release.
"Where are you?" she moaned.
"Right here, babe. Right here."
The dream faded away and Joe's face appeared directly
above hers, like an angel sent from God.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and said "Make
love to me."
"What does it look like I'm doing?" he laughed. They
quickly found their rhythm, a line of communication between
them, and she felt a clean, powerful orgasm build inside her
and then wash through her body.
When she recovered he was lying next to her, and she
realized he had come at the same time as her.
"Good for you?" he asked, seriously.
"Wonderful for me. Joe..."
"I think that was it. I think we finally did it. My
"What are you talking about, babe?" His voice was soft
"We're going to have a baby, Joe." As she spoke the
words, she sensed their inherent truth, and the joy she had
experienced in her dream returned.
"Come on, you know you can't tell if you're pregnant
right after. You of all people should know that." He sat
up, a concerned look on his face. "I thought we had come to
terms with the fact...I don't want you to get your hopes up,
"I don't know how...it's weird, but somehow I can tell."
She swung her legs off the bed and stood up to go into the
bathroom. Her womb felt warm, glowing, alive. "Just wait
The End, "What Mary Needs"
©1998 by DG (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Author's note: This was a bit of a departure for me,
written when I was in a strange, contemplative mood. I'm
curious to know what people think of it - I'm not
sure what I think of it myself.
Thanks to Baird Allen, I have a nice web page with all my
stories on it. Please drop by and check it out some time: