Dream Journal Ultimate
Date: 6/4/2020
By Machman
It's a lovely sunnny day and it looks as though I am back in Germany where I worked for some time in the 90s. It reminded me of the short time I worked for Compaq when I first lived in Munich. It was one of those sunny days when nobody wanted to work. Rather, head down the beer garden for some Currywurst mit Pommes and some lovely beer. There is a large crowd at gathering in the previously mentioned beer garden and I recognise some new acquaintances. I feel particularly chatty so I walk over to join them. There is a period of awkward silence and I pretty quickly realise they don't want me here. I flip a finger in their general direction and say "you know what, shove your boring chat up your fucking A-holes". As I walk away I think to myself maybe I shouldn't have done that. The scene changed slightly and the weather is not so good. Cloudy and dull but still warm, like a storm is going to blow imminently. I venture into a covered area but still outside. I have a beer with me and I resolve to sit alone. There are some benches formed into rows and there aren't any totally empty ones. I ask some people if I can sit at one particular bench and I am told "sure buddy, join the gang" by some guy wearing a Stetson. He talked with a southern drawl (probably Texan I remember thinking). After I sit down l, there are two spaces left at the table. One immediately to my left and one facing that space across the table. A couple walk up and I pay little heed. The American guy seems to know them. He addresses the man. "Hey Buck, plop your ass next to mine and we can talk business". Fucking great I think. Corporate shite, I'm going to have to listen to these two fucking bellends bore out loud about their tawdry company man existence. I then realise the wife is fucking hot and dressed to kill. She is much younger than her borejoysy husband and doesn't say much of anything. Her job is to look pretty by the look of things. She asks me if I can budge up a little to give her space to squeeze in next to me so that she is facing what I assume to be her husband. I shuffle as much as I can to my right and she throws one leg over the bench and grabs the table so that she can swing her other leg over. WOW. She is wearing a purple dress and black sheer nylons (my personal favourite) and I get a really great glimpse of some inner thigh that I was not expecting at all. I am glad I sat here after all. Already Buck and his Texan buddy are blabbering away and the poor wife is sat there listening. She is not totally ignored as the occasional "ain't that right, honey?" is thrown her way and she performs her duty by smiling and saying "sure honey pie". She also has a Texan drawl. She then turns to me and asks me what I do and I make up some bollocks about being a hairdresser. Bad move, I don't know fucking anything about hairdressing. She thinks that is wonderful and starts asking for advice about what she can do with her locks. She is blonde so I make up some more bollocks and say "well first of all we need to see what we can do about those roots, honey pie", mimicking her accent. "I hope her man didn't hear me", I think to myself but he's too busy blabbering to JR Fucking Ewing and she thinks what I said is wonderful. I ask her what she does and she tells me she works for Estee Lauder. I don't really know how to respond to that. Moreover, I have suddenly decided that I want to know if she is wearing tights or stockings. I didn't get to see quite enough when she was shimmying her way into her current seating position. "Well sure that's wonderful honey pie", I respond and place my left hand on her right thigh, the one next to me. I remember thinking if she complained then I would have to make a quick exit because Buck looks like a big old feller and is probably carrying a gun. She leans across and whispers in my ear. "Pantyhose today I'm 'fraid. You keep on sliding your hand right on up there though". I felt my face flush over and I'm looking straight at Buck. He has stopped talking to his friend and is looking right at me. "He knows! I'm doomed", I think to myself. But he smiles and says to me "I sure do recognise that accent, boy. Where you from?". I go into lie mode and tell him I'm from Inverness. All the while my hand is creeping up his wife's thigh and I'm just about to hit paydirt. I can remember the feel of the nylon mesh as my hand slid upwards. It feels warm and so fucking inviting. This Estee Lauder woman has given me a serious bonk-on. Saying Inverness was a bad move as he starts asking me some stupid fucking questions like "Have you ever seen Nessie?" and "What's the golf like up there?". All the while I am giving him stupid answers to his stupid questions my hand is now cupped over his wife's crotch under the table. I am thinking to myself "Hey buddy. I am absolutely aching to fuck your wife". I can then remember feeling her hand take mine. She is looking directly at her husband whilst she is doing this. He is clearly unawares as he is still talking shite to me. My hand is then slowly guided upwards over the band of her tights and inside. Then downwards again inside what feels like lacy panties. Her pussy is as bald as Dominic Cumming's shiny fucking bonce and she is sopping wet. I slip my fingers inside her warmth and look for that "magic button". I can't see what's going on down below obviously but I noticed that she has placed her other hand over her mouth as if she was going to cough. It was to cover up the fact she was making gasping sounds. She waits for a break when Buck isn't looking and leans over towards me again. "We need to fuck", she whispers in my ear. She quickly stands up and tells her husband that she isn't feeling so well and that she is going back to the Hotel. He shows little concern. My now free hand smells so sweet but I don't know what I am to do. After another show of lovely nylon clad thigh whilst she clambers over the bench to get out, she shimmies away and heads towards a train station. Fuck! What do I do? I can't just follow her can I? As if by magic there is a folded piece of paper on the table in front of me. I pick it up and read it. "DON'T FOLLOW ME. HE WILL KNOW. WAIT 30 MINS. PLAZA ROOM 239". All I can think about at this juncture is, "How the fuck did she get that note there whilst I was flicking her bean?" I didn't make it to the Plaza in my dream but that was the most joined up dream I have had in a good while.