Dreams: July 17

I'm in a the living room of a big house that rents out the upstairs rooms. I see a list on the wall that displays the names of the people who live here. I see Rachel & Austin's names at the bottom. Kirk and a couple (both names starting with J) are also on the list [all people from the real-life Lithia Park BBQ crowd]. I'm in a bed (fold-out sofa) with T. in this dark living room. T. is stretched out on his back. I'm straddling him, naked from the waist up. I pull off his shirt and then unzip his pants, sliding them off. My head is now at his knees, and I see his penis limp between his legs. As I move up his body, I see his dick rise, as if I have the powers of a snake charmer. Just by looking at it I can harden it. T. puts his hand on my head, pushing me towards his crotch. I resist and tell him to let go. "You can never make me do anything I don't want to. Don't ever put your hand on me like that again," I tell him. He assents and lets go. Now I do what I want and hold his hard dick in my hands. It's like a calamari tentacle, feeling almost hollow on the inside. I can squeeze it flat near the top, like a tube. I put my lips over it and get the same calamari sensation. It slides into my throat.
We hear people coming, so we stop. Now I'm in the kitchen, near a counter with a loaf of bread on it. Mark and some others are here with me. Somehow we're talking about my friendship with T. and our night in the living room (now it's the next morning). I don't say anything, but I give Mark a knowing look. He smiles in acknowledgment. It's a funny exchange that nobody else notices.


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