the life and musings of a kinky slut


~ a dream ~


“Do you feel that vibration?”

“Your heart rate is…”

He sat next to me on the barstool in the small open air cantina. Our drinks, like us, were sweating in the heat. My left arm touched his right. His eyes were forward. Mine were glued to his phone. I could hear my heart thumping in my ears.

I’d woken up in his lap that morning. Last night’s party at a mutual friend’s home was fun and playful, mixing drinks with Nerf wars. Most everyone was strew about, sleeping on the plush carpets or the comfy couches, when I arose. Somehow I’d made it into his care for the evening. We’d chatted as the deluge of fuzzy bombs occasionally assaulted the unsuspecting. I vaguely remembered making him laugh.

When I woke up and saw his face, I smiled. For such a strong man, with immense arms, broad shoulders, and a build that could crush most anyone, he was gentle enough to not rouse me as I slept. Gentle enough to comfort me as I rested. And there was something in his eyes that drew me to him.

But what I felt now in the cantina was not comfort.

I’d driven us to my hole-in-the-wall spot because I loved the sparse atmosphere and the even more sparse clientele. We were the only ones in the place at 10am on a Sunday besides the bartender/cook. Mimosas were needed to ease the slight dull throb in my brain.

“Have a drink with me.”

He ordered a beer.

As I ate my eggs and drank my orange juice with champaign, his eyes didn’t meet mine. I wondered why he was suddenly avoiding my gaze.

I pulled out my phone.

“Hmm, I need to go for a run today.  Even with the revelry, my heart rate wasn’t up enough last night.”

He pulled out his phone and laid it next to mine.

“Hey, you have the same app as me.”

“What does it say?”

As I looked on his screen, his arm touched mine.  The red line went up. The phone shock.

“Your heart rate is.”

“Is what?”

I could feel his gaze turn towards me, yet my eyes couldn’t leave his screen.

“Your heart rate is.  Your heart rate is.”

His hand traced up my arm, up to my face.  His thumb grazed my cheek. My eyes closed against the touch, then reopened, locking onto his stare.


He kissed me. My hands found his face. His beard tickled my lips, my chin. It was slow and light, then deep and full, then almost frantic. I lost all sense of time as I kissed him in the dive bar on the edge of town with the cheap mimosas, tasty eggs, and zero clientele. He held onto me. I held onto him.

Somehow, by the time we parted, I had ended up in his lap on his barstool. We were both breathless.


Side note: So my brain is kind of amazing.

This was my dream last night right before I got up for my day. The partying, the waking up in the man’s arms, and the kiss I wish I could have.

And the best part… the man in my dream was Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson. With the ridiculous body, hot tattoos, and smile that can melt a thousand hearts.

I now hope to wake up like that every morning.


Categorised as: Dream

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One Comment

  1. mckitten says:

    omg, The Rock! That was a GOOD dream!