A Coming of Age

NB Commentary: I dream stories. When I first started documenting my dreams almost 40 years ago, they were little snippets. Some of them were really strange, but I wrote them down anyway. I started reading a lot of books on dreams and their interpretation. I would spend time interpreting my dreams and then I branched out to interpret the dreams of others.

Little by little the dreams evolved. I remember dreaming stories every once in a while back then. I need to pull out those old stories and enter them into this blog.

This blog contains dream stories but includes various dream stories that took me to the internet to look people, places and things up. I sometimes get information in my dreams that make me wonder how true it is, and I am quite surprised to find correlations and even people whose names come to me in dreams, on the internet somewhere. In waking life, I never forget a face, so too in the dream state, I see faces clear and distinctly, even if they are strangers, and may even cross paths with them some time in the future. I once met a man at the fish market. He asked me if he could help me, and when I looked up I recognized him from my dream. I impulsively said to him, "You were in my dream!" and he responded, "I didn't do it!" and we both laughed.

I am a writer, so I guess my dreams are my muse. They truly inspire me to write. And yes, the dialogue and elements are all there in the dream..

Reader Alert: This dream is a little erotic and a little dark. Happy reading and leave your comments below. And remember, some stories never make the headlines.

Thanks.

A COMING OF AGE

At the age of 13, he didn't seem to be too assuming. A gentle soul, sorta of dorky looking and somewhat non assuming.

He lived down the hall from my apartment with his mother. I don't recall any other siblings. But it appeared that he and his mother were very close.

He had great manners. The kind of kid that would say good morning and good evening. A rare kid in this day and age. So attending his funeral was heart wrenching.  But knowing why he lie there cold and dead and about to be 14yrs of age was even more disconcerting. 

He's dressed nicely. They did a great job so there could be an open casket. All the family who could be here is here. Some from far away. Some may have had the same DNA. I wonder if I see signs of guilt.  Is he there because of all of us. 

Those who knew and the others who wondered, maybe even asked but never said, and never tried to stop him or it.

I tried. I think I can say I really tried. Besides I wasn't family. I really didn't know the family except for his mom. She was nice. She was pretty too. He didn't carry her genes though. She was bright and petite. A little short. She was so witty. She would make me smile no matter how many times I wanted to cry. I wondered if she knew. Sometimes I would blame her. It had to be her fault.  She was the parent and parents are responsible for their children. Can that, "it takes a village. " If the child comes out the house wrong what can the village do. I am not gonna swim in a pool of guilt  Fuck that. His deeds are not my fault. I was the fuckin victim! I didn't ask for it! Fuck, he wasn't raised right. Fuck that!

The funeral is taking too long and I am feeling smothered by this pretend grief. They all knew and nobody said anything and nobody stopped him. And now these hypocrites want to mourn and say "Sorry for your loss."

Fuck that too. What about my loss? 

I wish I could lose this guilt, bury it with him. Bury it and the memories. Like what happened the last time we were together. My mouth waters when I think about our last encounter. His round body, his chunky frame and squinty eyes. He was taller than me, maybe 6 inches. Kinda tall for a 13 year old. 

I feel the usual erotic sensation thru my body. But let me focus on his smile and his soft voice..... and his....

Several months ago he came to see me. 

"Hey."

"Hey."

"How's the morning treating you."

"Well, and you?"

"Just fine."

"What are you doing. Can I give you a hand."

"No, I think I got it. I just need to put this on the top shelf."

"Okay. I will stand here. I wouldn't want you to fall."

"Okay, that's fine."

He stands really close to me as if he wanted to catch me in case I fell. I am dressed in a loose top, and shorts for my casual Saturday morning chores. I am standing on a step ladder and as I reach up, I feel a warm wet mouth on my left boob. What the fuck? What's happening?  The sounds of suckling wet mouth move thru the room, thru the air, and thru my body. 

Damn, nobody ever suck my tit like that, I think to myself. His mom must have breast fed him for a while.

Damn! What am I thinking? What's happening? Why is he suckling on my breast and why oh why am I enjoying this shit!

What's wrong with my body? What happened to my reflexes. Why ain't I slapping the shit out of this brazen fool who had the nerve to turn me inside out and upside down. 

Why does this feel so damned good?

Shouldn't I feel ashamed? 

What's wrong with me? 

Why are my knees weak?

They say that thoughts move faster than the speed of light. For sure I have just proved it. Lightening speed, my thoughts could have only taken 10 seconds. Ten seconds that seemed like an eternity. 

I think I quickly jumped down but I'm not sure how quickly.  But I had to end this cause somewhere on this planet this ain't right!

"Um, honey, what are you doing?"

I barely mumble.

He doesn't respond.

He just walks away. Far away down the hall to his mother's apartment, just a few doors down.

I slump back in my chair an wonder "What the fuck just happened?"

Sometime later, I'm standing outside my door fumbling with my key. As I struggle to get my key out of my purse he walks up behind me. Then he penetrates me. In a flash he is having sex with me right there in the hallway. Maybe I should have worn a different kind of panties under my skirt. Maybe the other time, I should have worn a bra. But if I had??

Days go by. I am trying to understand why I let him have sex with me right there in the hallway... I haven't seen him, I think it best to avoid him so I stealthily leave the building each day I go to and from work. But, but, I'm not sure why I don't feel raped. Why don't I feel violated? Why did I enjoy it, why did I let him penetrate me, right there in the hallway? I must be sick. I have to be sick. What else can I be but sick that I wanted it to happen again, and again.

I am so torn.

I have gone crazy.

A few more days go by. As I get closer to my door, he spots me from his. He runs down the ever so seemingly long hallway from his mom's apartment, just a few doors down. I quickly enter my apartment and shut the door. He grabs the door handle and attempts to push the door open but he is not fast enough. He knocks on my door. I don't respond. I pretend I am not there. He is peering thru my venetian blinds, I think he sees me. I am frozen. I can't move. I wonder, can he really see me. I am shaking. He knocks gently at the window of my apartment. It is right next to the door. I am still frozen and he is still knocking. He knocks a little harder, then harder, then loudly. I am still frozen.

"Why won't you open the door!" he yells.

"I know you are in there, open the door, let me in. I want to see you. I want to talk to you."

I can't. I am frozen. I can't.  I just can't. I can't let him see how weak and frozen and crazy I have become since that day.

His mother calls him. Her voice startles both of us. He doesn't respond. He doesn't move. He continues to peer through the blinds covering my window next to the door of my apartment.

In a low husky voice he says.

"I know you are in there, and you are gonna let me in. One day, you will let me in. I want to see you. I need to."

How can you be frozen and seething with heat at the same time? How is that possible? When he penetrated me, I leaned forward and I let him. I let him do it and I enjoyed every moment of it. I didn't even care if anyone saw us. Of course no one did and besides, who would see us just a few doors down from his mother's apartment, down the hallway.

I really enjoyed it. The shock, the capture, the penetration, the groaning and the climax, all of it, I enjoyed it and it stayed in my frontal lobe every day and every night afterwards. He took it and I gave it to him. And that day, I lost my virginity. The virgin that says no to a teenage boy half her age. The virgin that would never in a million years even think of being taken by a teenage boy half her age..

I lost my virginity that day. No, actually, I gave it away. To be honest, I threw it away. I threw it to him with all my indiscretion and no care or shame. He could have it. Whenever he wanted it, however he wanted it, all of it, with no exception. All of it!!

My thoughts are racing again. I really should be ashamed, but I am not, far from it, I am wondering when we, well, not we, because he had always been the one to initiate it. So, I wondered, when would he do that again. You know, initiate penetrating me.

"I'll be back, and you better let me in!" he says.

The tone of his voice shocks me. He sounded so self assured and nothing like the gentle soul that took my virginity. It was quite strange but I shrugged it off. I am safe in my apartment, hiding from this 13 year old teenager that took me in the hallway, just a few weeks ago. His mother comes down the hallway and grabs him by the arm, as any mother would do to her child who appears to be ignoring her call. He goes along with her and I wonder if she knows what he did to me, or rather, what I let him do, for surely I could have stopped him.

I chase these thoughts days and days and nights and nights. Finally I feel safe enough to see him again. When I do, I will invite him in for milk and cookies. Ain't that what you give kids?? Milk and cookies?

Eventually, I see him, but this time, I am fully clothed. I have on long pants an bra and a long sleeve shirt and light jacket. He will not be able to suckle my breast nor penetrate me this time. But why am I playing this game, I know that's what I want. But I should not want that so I will focus on the milk and cookies.

When he comes to my apartment this time, a few doors down a very long hallway full of the expectation of what will he do, what can he do, what will he want to do... But this time when he knocks, I open the door and let him in.

He is nonchalant and we talk a little bit, chit chat, nothing too earth shattering. I mean, what do we have in common? What can we talk about. I work 9-5 and he is still in middle school. Ouch, that rings loud in my head, he is only in middle school???!!! He's in the 8th grade, seriously, other than school and homework what else is there to talk about?

I sit on the floor. He sits on the floor across from me. We eat cookies and drink milk. For some reason, I raise my knees up, towards my chest. I don't know, maybe I wanted to be more comfortable. He eyes me. He looks directly at the crotch of my pants. He takes a deep breath. Then he says.....

"I know what you want me to do, but I am not going to do that today. Besides, there's a hole in your pants. See that?" He says and points to my crotch. 

WTF? 

There's a hole? I didn't realize I had a hole and I didn't have on any panties cause I thought the pants were enough. Now he is looking straight into me and saying. 

"I know what you want me to do?"

I am more than embarrassed. I had no intention of enticing him or even insinuating that I wanted him to "do" anything. I didn't even realize I had a hole in my pants. I quickly draw my legs flat to the floor.

"It's okay. I won't be doing that today, so it's okay. You can relax. 

Thanks for the milk and thanks for the cookies. See you next time."

I am stunned, confused, mixed up and pissed. WTF!   How dare he act so impudent and then walk off!!

I sulk for a few days after this one.

Mom comes down, she knocks at the door. She is so sweet. She is so cute too. A little female envy, cause I am far from as petite as she is.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Have you seen my son?" She asks.

Hmmmm, that's strange, why would she ask me if I have seen him as if we are friends or something, or like we hang out all the time or that I would know where he was. She's his mother, shouldn't she know where he is??

"Um, no, I don't know where he is. I haven't seen him in a while so I couldn't say." I resentfully respond.

Of course she could not notice my resentment nor the reason why. In my head, I am wondering, where could he be besides with his mother or........... well, maybe he should be in school or something like that.

"I am really worried" she continues and frankly I am beginning not to care, besides he was so rude the last time I did see him.

"Okay, let's go back to your apartment and see if we can find something in his room or in his books, maybe there's a number to a friend or something that you can call. He could be just hanging out a little longer after school." I say, attempting to cover my own rudeness and a little anger with a tinge of jealousy.

We go back to her apartment.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she asks.

"No thank you, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure, don't bother yourself. I have plenty and I am just down the hallway."

"Okay, well, let's go to his room and see what we can find." She says invitingly.

We go and she opens the door and there he is, lying in bed, on his back, penis erect as he massages it. I am frozen again, staring, mouth open, breathing fast and wondering how obvious I must be to his mother. My heart starts beating loudly in my ears, my eyes burn as I cannot believe the magnificence that I see on this young man. To be honest, I have never seen such a huge finely sculpture penis like that in my whole life, not even in my porn magazines. It had a dark purpleish hue to it and it had ridges on it, all the way up and all the way down. Tiny little ridges that encircle it like a potter's wheel had fingered it so that it still had the imprint from the potter's fingers. The ridges were soft and delicate. And it solved the mystery as to why I could not get him out of my mind or my vagina. He was rubbing it up and down, as if he were polishing a car or a piece of fine silver. He seemed to be shaping and molding it as if it was his favorite treasure. He was making sure it was just right. 

When I finally come to my senses, his mother is scolding him, not about jerking off, but about staying out to late and not calling to say where he was. She also did not rush me from his room. It was as if she didn't even notice that his huge penis was sitting there, staring us both in the face. She didn't seem to even notice that I was standing there, drooling.

How many times did I replay "OMG" in my head I cannot begin to answer. And why did she not rush me away from his room, I cannot begin to answer, and frankly, I really didn't care.

I kind of turn away, I think body first as my head, was still there, eyes staring. As she continues to fuss him out, I leave and go back down the very very long hallway to my apartment a couple of doors down. I gingerly open the door to my apartment and sit in the chair. Actually, I think I fell into a sitting position in the chair and I cannot remember how long I stayed there as that scene of him massaging his penis, danced over and over and over in my head.

The next time I saw that penis it was in me. It was in and out, gently...... Then in and out, more firmly. Then in and out of me so deeply it must have hit my soul. I am groaning and moaning. The pleasure was so exquisite I could barely stand it. And he never seemed to tire. I am lying face down across my bed and he is going in and out of me too many times to count. The climaxes doubled and trippled and continued until I was raw and he never stopped. He just kept going, in and out till I had to finally beg him to stop! Which he did. He stopped and I caught my breath. It was over and he left to go down the hallway to his mom's apartment, a few doors down a very, very long hallway.

The morning paper reads...

"Mother kills son and step father after she found them in the Jacuzzi together

having sex"

It continues....

A mother arrives home from work to find her son and step father having sex in the Jacuzzi in the master bedroom. She retrieves a gun from the bedroom dresser drawers entered the bathroom and shoots them both dead.

"I couldn't bare to see my son have sex with my husband. We had just gotten married. I knew about my son's sexual prowess but I never thought he would have sex with my husband. We had a healthy sexual relationship, me and my son.. but that was all." The mother says.

"His sexual prowess? Ma'am, you were aware of his sexual prowess, Ma'am. Isn't your son just 13 years old." asked the investigator.

"What does age have to do with it? He has been sexually active since he was 7 years old. I showed him how to suck my breast. He does a great job of it. Well, he used to, he can't now, obviously."

"Ma'am, he was sexually active since 7 years old? How do you know that?"

"Because I showed him how, that's how I know, and because he told me about the lady down the hallway that he has been having sex with for months."

Now my fingers are frozen holding the morning paper. I am in shock. I am implicated. I am the lady down that long hallway a few doors down. I cannot read anymore. What if she tells them my name. What if she tells them where I live? What if she implicates me as a child molester and I go to jail?

"Ma'am, are you able to tell us who that lady down the hallway is?"

"No, I am not able to do that. He asked me not to and so I won't. He's dead now so what difference does it make?"

"Well, we can have her come in for questioning."

"Why do you need to question her? He's dead. I killed him and that lying husband of mine and she doesn't need to be in it at all."

"Well, you said you knew her so we thought we would ask if you would be willing to have her come in for questioning. Why did you call your husband a liar, Ma'am?"

"A liar? A liar? He is a liar and now he's a dead one. He never told me he was gay! So now he's gay and dead too. Luckily Rufus our retriever saved the other dog that was in there with them. He grab him out by his mouth because he was about to drown in that Jacuzzi with them two, and I didn't care if he did drown. He shouldn't have been in there with them having gay sex. How awful, they deserved to die."

The paper showed a faded out picture of the "step-father floating face down in the water... obviously dead from the gunshot wounds he received. The report said she fired 5 or 6 times and killed them both and wounded the dog.

And now I am sitting here at the funeral for her son. The lady who lives down a very short hallway, just a few doors down. And my feelings are going in ten thousand different directions. And I am angry at all the hypocrites at this funeral, who knew about his DNA. A DNA that would produce such a magnificent penis that even a straight man and step father could not resist, not to mention me..............

The lady who lives down a very short hallway.