Nocturnal wet dreams and their consequential outcome

By Stanley Collymore

I had a dreadful night’s sleep last night a female friend explained to me, claiming that she’d been emotionally as well as physically subjected to a series of unfamiliar to her and evidently not previously experienced, graphically explicit and licentiously sexual overtures of the kind that irresistibly triggered and the accummatively released in her young body a spate of consecutive orgasms that had her indecorously squealing like a stuck pig, well aware of its impending doom prior to the culmination of its own inevitable termination.

“La petite mort was what I alarmingly and repeatedly experienced,” she emotionally said. “Yet surprisingly my body, and with a quite startling for me joie de vivre, excitedly and wholeheartedly welcomed this explicitly exploratory and intimate sexual subjugation of my inexperienced womanhood. So what else could I have seriously done, either realistically or honestly in those trying, sexually impassioned and thoroughly enervating circumstances in which I was enforcedly put in,” she questioned, “other than to surrender myself with the utmost dignity and acquiescently give in?”

“Which is what I did, as this pleasurable assault continued uninterruptedly, and my taunted womb was vigorously assailed with myriads of unrelenting emotions, just as my equally confused mind certainly was by this intentional and concerted sexual renaissance.”

Then a massively wet, scalding hot and an incisively penetrating deluge of my assailant’s seminal fluid, very much akin to the unrivalled consequences of an unstoppable tsunami, surged momentously but effortlessly into the farthest crevasse of my gaping womb, activating a tumultuous after-shock –cum-orgasmic effect, both in proportion and of a similar kind, on my part – following which I went totally out of my mind and immediately afterwards completely passed out with only my still thunderously beating heart entirely privy to what had actually taken place throughout my convulsing body and within my frantic mind.

Sometime later, however, having lethargically awoken, and while continuing to lie in my bed, I sanguinely sought to recapitulate what had earlier gone on with me but quickly realized from the incredibly sodden state of the nightgown that I was still self-evidently wearing that that particular analysis was in essence unnecessary, as the outcome was already a foregone conclusion.

But I likewise rapidly realized that this wholly unexpected nocturnal adventure which enforcedly I’d been subjected to, coupled with the undoubtedly cataclysmic experiences that I had previously undergone, had both explicitly and emphatically trashed the cornucopia of the greatly espoused, acutely nurtured, distinctly virginal, as well as the crucially pre-marital and markedly chaste notions that I’d always totally and eminently esteemed – although now for me in the wake of all this having happened to me they were themselves realistically and decidedly over – notwithstanding that this unaccustomed for me and truly revelatory experience was in this specific instance only an illusory dream.

Even so, I’d nevertheless found myself quite taken by what had happened to me in such a dramatic and convincing fashion, and therefore quite earnestly and excited hoped, as well as consciously wished that I would urgently fall asleep once more, and that this maddeningly inciteful but all the same utterly delectable experience would happen to me all over again.