TN’s weight crushed down, pinning me to the bed. A strong hand clasped my wrists together and held them above my head. The other wandered across my naked body tugging, touching, teasing. My legs opened as he pressed down on me.
“This is wrong,” I whispered.
“Shhhh,” he grunted.
“What about Hy? I can’t do this to her,” I moaned.
His response was to bury his engorged sword deep inside my wet and hungry sheath. Never have I felt so full, so completely invaded. Thoughts of how we’d ended up naked and in bed together left my brain. I had no conscience, no guilt, no shame. I was nothing but a receptor to pleasure, forgetting everything else.
Over and over he plunged, driving me to the crest rapidly, faster and faster. I felt my walls clenching, the release imminent. But then the guilt came creeping in, fighting for dominance in my brain. Pleasure, then guilt, then pleasure. The battle raged as my body inched toward the peak of the wave. When the orgasm came, my arms wriggled free and flung around his back, searching for stability in a spinning world. I had nothing to hold back the tide of guilt now.
My arms were empty.
My bed was empty.
My vagina was empty.
As I shook off the fog of my wet dream, my conscience returned. I had just dreamed I was having sex with my dear friend’s boyfriend. Who does that? Thankfully my friend had an answer.