Some dreams vanish upon awakening. Some dreams remain with us throughout the day. I'm not sure if it was the lamb chop I ate, the broccoli, spinach salad, or puree squash. Maybe it was the two cups of chamomille tea and the two cookies that I enjoyed at a late hour. I don't know.
I dreamt that I was pregnant. Yep, at least six months. I felt very fat in the dream, all of it in my stomach. In the dream itself I knew how old I was and though I didn't feel that old I kept telling myself when this baby is ten years old, I'm going to be very old. This baby is going to be a lot younger than my oldest granddaughter, etc. I kept saying to myself will I survive the delivery? How am I going to keep up with raising this child? What kind of energy will I even have when this child is only ten years old. On and on and on my mind raced inside that dream.
Then I woke up to the sounds of thunder and when I pushed the drapes open spotted lightning in the distance.
Pure relief swept over me. I looked over at my PeekaPoo dog who was looking back at me. Hallelujah! It was only a dream!
Unlike my heroine in my story NIGHT FANTASIES, which recently earned some nice reviews, I certainly did want to wake up from that dream, and realize it was only just that.
Still, I wonder what this type of dream about being pregnant especially for a woman way past child bearing years actually means.
Now I do have to add that while getting x-rays at a local chiropractor's office, there was this huge sign stating to let the technician know whether or not I was pregnant. In fact it was the doctor who asked me, and I remember telling her if I am, then it's a miracle!
Perhaps my mind simply stored that away where it would come out later in the form of a dream.
Who knows.
All I know is that I'm very very happy that this was only a dream.
NIGHT FANTASIES RECEIVED A RATING OF 5 FROM DELIGHTFUL DIVAS
This is my first book by Collette Thomas and I really liked it and read it quickly. The characters have values and were considerate of each other's feelings. Collette brought up issues of divorce, but only to show that Valerie and Ross were vulnerable, yet still open to a new relationship. She makes you feel all warm and fuzzy for Ross and you want to take him home and snuggle up with him on the couch (or bed). He's Valerie's macho hero who helps her out of a couple jams (no pun intended) with her catering jobs. She realizes he's a man's man, but still not afraid to help her out in the kitchen.
I highly recommend Night Fantasies by Collette Thomas and I hope to read more from her in the near future!
Rated 5 Delightful Divas and a Recommended Read by Shelly!
Valerie stood in the middle of Russ Harper’s cabin, clutching her small purple beaded bag. Now what?
His cabin, far roomier than the one she shared with Jessica, contained more amenities-a compact refrigerator and a microwave took up one small corner space.
You never needed to leave this room if you chose not to. Russ Harper probably always went first class. Valerie wondered what he did for a living that allowed these luxuries-not that it mattered a whole lot. She was content to stay in the present-a present where she could indulge in such fantasies.
In all probability they would not see each other again after the cruise. Like ocean tides, shipboard romances came and went. Once back in the states, her fantasies would burst like floating crowns of soap bubbles, reminding her that her ordinary life held no room for the exotic.
Or, she thought, repressing a giggle, the erotic.
She sat on the bed, which seemed to fill the room, and ventured a look his way.
Russ held a bottle of expensive champagne. He winked at her. Soon the sound of a popping cork broke the silence.
As Russ Harper moved about, the flexing of well-developed muscles was obvious even through the expensive fitted shirt.
"I like the dress," Russ remarked as he effortlessly removed the cork. "Deep purple is your color." He handed her a slender crystal flute he had just filled with the bubbling wine.
Her eyes never left his as she took a tentative sip. A tiny indiscernible voice warned her to leave. She still had time to save herself.
"I’m not sure I should’ve come," she found the courage to admit.
"There’s no reason to be nervous," he said, moving closer. With one finger he gently stroked her bottom lip. "We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can talk…get to know each other better. I do like this purple dress," he softly repeated, his eyes gently raking over her form. "This is definitely your color. Whenever I think about this night, I will always remember you in this dress. It may haunt my dreams.”
Warning: Strong explicit sexual language, bdsm, menage
Blurb: A story of double deception:
At the request of his father, Jonathan Wetherall the Third agrees to meet his childhood nemesis for a week of fun and relaxation. He arrives at the airport expecting a red-headed, blue-eyed pain in the neck. Instead he finds an attractive overly sexy woman doing a bad job of impersonating her roommate.
Determined to show her a thing or two, Jonathan pretends to be a stranger, calling himself Flynt Adams, a cowboy from Albuquerque.
While waiting to meet the skinny nerd described by her roommate, Myrna Dunbar is approached by a blond jock dressed like a cowboy motorcycle bum. Convinced that Jonathan has decided to stand up her roommate, she must now decide whether to accept this stranger’s offer of fun and adventure or return to her lonely, unexciting life.
Hot Sex with a Stranger is a coming of age story that leaves very little, if anything, to the imagination as it explores the world of bondage, submission and everything in between.
Excerpt:
Myrna pressed her hand to her mouth stifling any sound that might escape and give her away. She’d become a voyeur, she mused. Yet realizing this did not have her pull away, or shutting the door. Instead she watched as Adrienne manipulated Art’s cock, and again, wondered…could she? Would she dare?
This certainly was not the Adrienne who taught Myrna how to throw a curve ball when they played on the high school softball team.
This certainly was not the Adrienne who baked gingerbread cookies for the holidays. Only last Christmas they put together a gingerbread house, and donated it to a local women’s shelter.
Some irrational fear curled inside Myrna forcing the realization that although at times she suspected this side of Adrienne she now had to accept the fact Adrienne allowed men these certain liberties.
She stared as Adrienne put her palms on Art’s muscled thighs, then brought her lips to the tip of his cock. Art sighed, entangling his fingertips into her roommate’s hair while inch by inch his cock disappeared into Adrienne’s mouth.
Myrna stared as Adrienne’s fingertips ran along the silky skin of his balls, sliding her fingertips behind.
“Ahhh, don’t stop!” Art begged.
Adrienne sucked, and swallowed, and taunted him with her tongue.
Myrna could only stare, and wonder as questions queued up inside her mind. What did it feel like? How did it taste? It looked as if Adrienne was truly enjoying what she was doing to this man who was obviously in the throes of sheer ecstasy.
A fucking blow job, Myrna’s mind cried. Her roommate was good at giving fucking blow jobs. Who knew? Could they ever again share the task of making a gingerbread house?
Sudden envy filled Myrna at the sight of Art in such rapture as Adrienne fiercely worked her mouth along the length of him. Myrna couldn’t help feel these two people had truly become one—putting sex in motion, with Adrienne in control.
When was the last time Myrna controlled any situation? The thought set off a spark of anger somewhere inside.
Moments later Art gently pushed Adrienne down to the soft carpet and spread her thighs a part. A gasp escaped Adrienne’s lips then cried out, “Fuck me! Fuck me hard!”
Myrna let out a sharp gasp, not remembering if Adrienne had ever said that word that loud in her presence. Hearing it now under these circumstances ignited a strange wondrous heat that Myrna knew was not going to dissipate soon. She could almost smell her roommate’s sweet wet cunt. She focused on Art’s ‘manhood’ hard and erect demonstrating to the world it was indeed ready to do its work.
He lowered himself and Myrna watched the tight lean butt of perfection while her roommate disappeared from view.
She watched the gorgeous undulating butt.
She watched as he entered Adrienne’s pussy.
Watched as heated flesh undulated against heated flesh.
Watched as Art hungrily sought out Adrienne’s lustful wantonness, caring nothing about consequences except to fully satisfy his need.
Myrna didn’t think it got any simpler.
No love involved here she decided.
No emotions that confused their ultimate goal.
Nothing erroneously elevating this act to anything more than what it was—the pursuit of sheer sexual pleasure and gratification.
It left Myrna disoriented. Left her wondering if she could ever play out a similar role. Or would propriety and moral conscience deny her the pleasure? Although she suddenly felt she might survive the guilt inherent in such acts, and learn to live with any regret later if she ever traveled this road.
Myrna knew from the erotic adventures depicted in those erotic novels Adrienne kept in her room that she could not picture herself performing any of these depraved act. Never.
Not Myrna Dunbar, safe never sorry Myrna Dunbar.
Nonetheless, blood pounded inside her head and made her realize she could not deny that she enjoyed watching these two explore, brazenly act out every part of whatever fantasy they had chosen to play out.
Muscles rippled beneath Art’s firm taut skin as he straddled Adrienne, stretched his limbered torso across her naked form and took control.
The sight of Adrienne’s submission caused Myrna’s pussy to become wet and wanting and imaged him taking that same control of her.
