Dreamed 1984/8/22 by Chris Wayan
The Smithsonian Museum is rebuilding, expanding. One cool evening after a storm, I sneak alone into the construction site. Sit up on a floor that's mostly done, though the walls and roof are still just a red-girder sketch. Rain-pools on the floor reflect the sky. Empty, eerie, beautiful in a lonely way.
A girl sneaks in, below. She's slight, with pale straight hair. She looks nervous. Climbs up to my level, keeps looking back in fear. Oh! She's hiding from my parents! They come strolling in and wander the courtyard, below us, talking. They're looking for me. The girl slinks over to me, and holds me tight. She's warm. We dare not say a word with them hunting below. Our eyes meet but our hearts are suddenly pounding with more than fear. Can we come before THEY do? As they bumble around, exploring below, we explore each other above, and below, and inside... everywhere. She kneels and suddenly licks the head of my penis and I nearly faint. She slides me into her mouth. I'm usually so eager to please my lover that I forget myself, so this is a forbidden pleasure: pure getting! Shivering with excitement I stroke her hair and shove into her mouth. So hot in the cool air! In and out, shallow and fast, thinking "I'm FUCKING her MOUTH, I'm FUCKING her MOUTH!" I push deep and pull further and pop out by accident, and suddenly her hair feels rougher, shaggier. I look down confused and find I'm holding her hips not her head; I was fucking her cunt from behind, not her mouth. I hang onto her shaggy haunches, then realize... she has haunches. She has fur. She's a... a goat. I'm holding onto a goat. A small, grubby, damp, ugly, goat, as smelly as a... as a goat. My cock wilts, appalled.
My parents come up the stair and see me. They gasp, then shriek with laughter and point at me, gasping "Our son! What a loser! He can't even manage to fuck a GOAT!"
And there's a dare in it. I could go ahead and shut my parents up for good, if I'd meet their dare and hump this goat. But I don't WANT to. No matter how horny I was, I don't like how this goat looks or feels or smells. The girl I liked is gone, melted away by my parents' corrosive presence. To harden my cock again, I'd have to harden my heart against my own feelings. I know who I want and who I don't, now.
And what my family respects.
And what my family's respect is worth.
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