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From: artie <artie@netgate.net>
Subject: {ASSM} (RP) "Fever Dreams" (MF, ROM) (artie) CR #341 10,9,9
Date: Thu, 16 Dec 1999 05:10:01 -0500
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Fever Dreams (c) Copyright 1999 by artie@netgate.net
This work may not be reposted or redistributed without the prior express
written permission of the author.
A work of fiction, meant for adults. Read something else if you are not
an adult, or are offended by stories with sexual content. Then again, if
all you're looking for is in-out, in-out, in-out, you should probably read
something else. I welcome constructive comments. Enjoy.
* Thanks to Denny, Wiseguy, and Melody for their help.
Oh God, he got me last night. I still shiver thinking about it, and it
isn't just from the fever. I called him yesterday afternoon at work,
letting him know I had the flu and was sick as a dog. He understood --
it's the start of the school year, and with twenty-two new six- and
seven-year-old disease vectors (children) in my first grade class, Ted and
I both know the first month is going to be rough.
I knew I was probably in for it early in the week. Tuesday morning just
before recess I noticed one little girl, Jeanne, sitting at her desk
sweating and shivering. When I went to her and asked how she was feeling
she looked at me with glazed eyes. Damn, I hate it when parents send sick
kids to school. I understand they have problems when both parents work,
but it doesn't do us any good. I held Jeanne in my lap for a while until
the school nurse arrived to get her. I could tell she was sick -- she was
hot to the touch, and so clingy, shivering as I held her and rocked her.
Tina, our nurse, started walking her out of the room, then swooped her up
and carried her. I started megadosing on Vitamin C as they left my
classroom.
The next day, of course, Jeanne was as bright and fresh as a daisy --
they bounce back so fast at that age. The day after that, yesterday, I
woke up with that feeling of gloom and foreboding -- it's going to get me,
no matter what I do.
And by the end of the day it had. Leaving school that afternoon I told
Tina and our principal they were going to need a substitute for me. Tina
felt my forehead with her hand and nodded. Our principal waved me away in
fear, already clutching a handful of Kleenex for her runny nose. I went
home, put on my sweats, left a message for Ted, and crawled into bed.
Ted made me get up when he got home. He fed me some soup, drugs,
fluids, and more vitamins. I shivered on the couch downstairs for a while,
and he eventually took me back upstairs. He's so good to me; he helped me
get ready for bed, even giving me our favorite cold/flu cure.
I don't think Tina would approve, but it helps. Whenever I have a
fever, I have wild dreams, even hallucinations. Before going to bed, I
took a dose of Nyquil followed by a double shot of Cuervo Gold Tequila. It
helps kill the Nyquil taste.
Then Ted put me on top of our bed and took off my socks, pushing up my
sweat pants some and covering me with my bathrobe. I was still wearing a
sweatshirt, which I expected to drench with sweat by the morning. Then he
turned off the bedroom lights and started massaging my feet.
Oh how I love that man! He knows how much I like his doing my feet, and
he does such a good job. I was hardly coherent to start with, and I knew I
could just let go tonight, and he'd tuck me safely into bed.
The only problem with his massaging my feet is he tends to get carried
away. He knows how relaxing it is for me, and how much I want to have him
hold me and just go to sleep afterwards. But a lot of the time it gets him
very turned on. He'll massage my feet, then start working up my calves,
then my thighs, and the next thing I know his face is easing between my
legs. I do love it when he eats me; it's another of the things he's very
good at, and we both enjoy.
I thought I was safe last night -- feverish, wearing my sweats, still
wearing panties underneath.
But -- oh he got me! I don't remember his doing it, or remember his
tucking me into bed. I do faintly remember his holding me tight, kissing
the back of my neck and telling me to sleep well. I love that twilight
time in his arms before falling asleep.
I know he usually gets up in the middle of the night to pee; I think
that's when he did it, or at least part of it.
I was having my usual wild hallucinogenic fever dreams when all of a
sudden they turned incredibly erotic. Curiously, they weren't vivid-detail
erotic -- instead they were deep-strong-murky erotic. The things I felt
were almost animal in nature, they were so primitive, all the time driving
me closer and closer to orgasm.
I don't have a lot of erotic dreams. I have them occasionally, and I
have some very detailed and hot ones, waking up in the middle of the night
on the edge of an orgasm, rolling over to pounce on my hubby so he can
finish the job. He never seems to mind. And he has them occasionally --
I've even "helped out." A couple months ago I woke in the middle of the
night as he was making noises in his sleep, there on his back, his hips
moving slightly. I moved a hand and felt his very erect cock. I stroked
it gently with one hand, then rolled over to add my other hand to his
balls, and breathed heavily in his ear. He made more noise, and when his
eyes flew open in surprise, I pumped him vigorously and kissed him. He
moaned and came in my hand.
But last night -- I don't know if I was asleep or awake when I started
coming. It was so intense and so deep, yet so lacking in the usual detail
I have in my dreams. I guess "primal" is a good description. I was
coming, and coming, and coming. I was somewhere dark, warm, confined,
sweaty, slippery. The colors were dark -- dark greens, dark blues, dark
reds -- not the vibrant colors I usually have in fever dreams. I heard
moaning (probably my own).
It was so hard to move, and then at some indeterminate time things
shifted. I had the crystal clear vision of being tied down to a strange
bed in a strange erotic place. Stone walls, open iron-framed windows with
blowing white lace curtains, unable to move tied to an old wooden four
poster canopy bed, hearing an old heavy wooden door open -- he's here --
he's coming for me -- that somehow brought on an incredibly strong orgasm.
Maybe it was my hoarse shrieking through that one that finally pushed me
to wakefulness, or as close as I got to wakefulness. I was breathing hard,
just starting to be able to move again, hot and cold at the same time,
covered with sweat.
And I was suddenly oh so close to coming again, and I realized why.
Somehow I was wearing my butterfly vibrator, which hummed me to heaven yet
again.
As I thrashed through that orgasm and out the other side, I tried to
find the control for it. Of course I was tangled up in the bedding, not
really conscious, and nowhere near coherent. As I flailed around, one of
my arms hit something: Ted. He held me, squeezed me, and got his hands on
my breasts. He rolled them around gently, then squeezed my nipples,
sending me crashing through another orgasm.
I rolled away from him and to my side. My shift in position momentarily
eased my torment, and as I panted I thought I felt something running down
my left leg and bumping my left ankle. I was a little more coherent now,
or so I thought. I pulled both knees up to my chest so I could grab the
thing at my ankle.
That changed my butterfly tormentor from a source of mere bliss to one
of ecstasy; I moaned as my head shot back, hitting something with a whack,
and I grabbed my ankles. Something told me to take a deep breath and hold
it, and I tensed up and did, until I shuddered from one end to the other
and all the tension, energy, and strength left my body along with my
breath.
Somehow my hand found the control box, pinned to the inside of my sweat
pants down by my ankle. I turned it off and rolled to my back, throwing
the covers off me. I looked around; Ted wasn't in bed. The door to the
bathroom was closed and I could see light leaking out around the edges and
bottom of the door. He must be in there. "I love you!" I croaked out,
then collapsed back into dreamless sleep.
Ted held me when the alarm went off; that's a wonderful part of our
marriage. Even if it means setting the alarm earlier, we hold each other
at night and again in the morning.
He got up a while later. He woke me enough to give me some vitamins,
aspirin, and some juice. He kissed me goodbye and told me to rest; he'd be
home early to take care of me. I went back to sleep with the fond memory
of his "I love you." and his kiss on my sweaty brow.
Some time later I staggered to the bathroom. I peeled off my sweat
soaked sweatshirt, then the sweat pants and my soaked panties. I don't
know how he got my butterfly on me without my noticing it, but he did. The
control was securely pinned to the inside of my sweat pants. I fumbled
with the safety pins as I sat on the toilet, getting rid of more fluid,
shivering as the cool air hit my sweaty skin. Even the top of my head felt
damp.
As I stood up, I thought I saw a spot on the tile floor. I looked
around, still in a fever haze, and saw a couple others leading to Ted's
sink. I looked in his sink and saw one of his T-shirts. It had blood on
it. I laughed hoarsely -- I must have whacked him in the nose -- serves
him right.
I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I felt like shit and looked
about the same -- not at all the smiling happy face my first graders
usually see. I drank a few glasses of water, then went back to the bedroom
for another pair of panties and another set of sweats.
Oh darling, I'm going to get you for this, I thought to myself as I
dressed again. I was about to crawl back into bed, on his side, since his
side wasn't soaked with sweat, when I had a thought.
I went back to the bathroom and got my butterfly. I flopped on the bed,
pushing my sweats and panties down. I settled it into place, moving it
around with my fingers, and even though it wasn't turned on my breath went
ragged in my sore throat. I pulled up my panties and sweat pants, then
threaded the control up my top and down my right sleeve where I could reach
it easily. That was a good trick, darling, running it down my leg.
When should he come down with it? Two or three days, I thought, if
things run as they usually do. Whatever I bring home from school I get
first, then he gets. Oh, I'm going to get you darling; I'm going to get
you in the middle of the night. Am I going to suck you off? Am I going to
squirt Astroglide over you and take you between my breasts? You've hinted
at wanting that. I could just lube you up and do you with my hands, or
work you with my hands and then impale myself on top of you -- I know how
much you love that. I'm going to get you, and more than once.
I pulled up the covers, shivering with hot/cold fever sweats. I laughed
hoarsely again, and as I turned on the butterfly and moaned, I thought, I'm
going to get you darling; I am.
FINI
Fever Dreams by artie@netgate.net
Fever Dreams
4
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