I felt him writhing beneath me. We rolled over the grassy spot just beyond the lake. The misty morning air surrounded us as we arched into each other, joined up in frenzied mating. I could see his stomach muscles ripple beneath the sweat-soaked hair. I could feel his cock pressed into my belly as I moved within him. The mist of early dawn obscured his face. But I knew him anyway. I had seen him before, loved him before. I knew his body as well as I knew my own. But I had yet to see his face. As I built up, arching over and over into him, the cool, wet morning air chilled my sweaty, burning skin. I felt the hair on my chest matt with the sweaty efforts of our lovemaking. I kept moving inside him, feeling him grow and thicken against my belly. He milked me with his beautiful body, causing my own release to coincide with his. I bellowed out ...
... And awoke to sweaty, tangled sheets. My underwear was soaked with my release. I still tingled and shook with aftershocks. I was so hard still. I lay spent in my sprawling bed, catching my breath. I was so frustrated. This dream had been coming to me night after night for weeks. It was always the same man. I could see his body, I knew every curve and ridge from his toes to his chin, but I hadn't seen any further. I knew he was dark haired, almost black. He was tall, almost as tall as my six-six. His chest was matted with unbelievably thick, curly, infinitely soft hair. He was strong, muscled naturally from working with his hands. They were calloused and rough. His shoulders were strong, much broader than his hips. His legs had wrapped themselves around me numerous times. I can still feel that soft hair, the rippling strength bracing my hips as I plunge into his heat. This has got to stop.
I crawled out of bed and dropped my soaked knit boxers in the hamper as I walked to the shower. I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My hair, both on my head and body, was matted and mussed with sweat. Whereas my dream man's body was hulking and corded with muscles, my body was that of a tiger or dolphin. I was sleek and graceful, choosing to run and swim rather than pump iron. My eyes trailed down my mirrored doppelganger. I was still so very erect. I was so engorged that the head was shiny. Each vein stood out in sharp relief and pulsed with my heart. There was still a bluish, milky trace of my slumberous orgasm slicking under my foreskin. I reached my hand down and smoothed it over its surface. My middle finger and thumb didn't quite meet as I grasped myself. I watched in the mirror as I fisted myself. My hand smoothed back my foreskin, peeling it over the engorged head then pushed it back. I felt my eyes roll back in my head and I felt my dream lover take my hand's place. I felt his calloused thumb slick over the sensitive ridge on the top of my cock. His strong, long fingers fisted me, milking a response from me. The hand moved faster, skimming the sensitive nerves, strumming me to pleasure. I heard my breath hitch and I started to pant. My testicles rose up and I tingled, inching over the edge. The first spasm gripped me, propelling semen out at explosive force. I opened my eyes to watch my first spurt hit he mirror, followed by a thick second then very loose and wet third. I became aware of the cold marble tiles at my feet as I again worked to equal my breathing. I watched as my image became distorted as my essence ran down the mirror's shiny surface. I grabbed a towel and wiped it up before heading to my shower.
A few hours later I sat at my desk in my office, overlooking Manhattan. I had always found peace in the view, but not today. The dreams were killing me. Desire was turning into an obsession. At twenty-three, I was at the top of my game, king of the world. But I was already tired of it. A thought that had only been a vague notion before the madness of my dreams started began to take root. I needed to get away. My work was suffering and I spent more time wishing I could be asleep if only just to see him and feel him again. That night, as I rode the train home, I fell asleep ...
... We met by the lake, neither of us wasting any time to get there. I felt him walk up behind me. He whispered something that sounded like a mumble, but somehow I understood it, as 'I love you.' I was already breathing hard feeling my chest heave for breath at what I knew would follow. My dream lover began to skim my unbuttoned shirt off my shoulders, kissing my warm skin as he went. I fisted my hands in his hair and lifted him for my kiss. I brushed my lips over his as our tongues caressed. I felt his shoulders and moved my hands down his back, under the band of his jeans. I pushed my fingers under the elastic of his underwear and cupped his strong, dimpled ass. I skimmed a finger through the cleft and brushed it through warm hair and sleek heat, searching for his center. I removed one hand and moved it to unbutton his jeans, allowing my other hand greater motion. Once freed of the confine, the jeans slid off his hips and pooled at his feet. My hand moved faster as I tasted his lips. I pushed into him with one finger and felt him shudder beneath me. I kept pushing into him, parting him, making him ready for me. I was so hard and felt pre-cum push through my slit, wetting my boxers. Then my dream man pulled away from my lips, his diaphanous face was still shrouded to me, but I heard him clear his throat than announce my stop ...
... I awoke to find myself sweaty and achy. I stood before the train could move on. I couldn't hide my erection. The tent was obvious. I heard one guy snicker and an older woman smiled at me, leering at my aroused state. I felt the blush rise from my neck as I stepped off the train onto the milling platform. I crawled into my car and drove home. Once there I sought out my shower. It had six nozzles set at varying heights off of three pipes with a central rainmaker over my head. I turned them all blistering cold, willing the frigid water to reign in my erection that hadn't calmed in the thirty minutes since awaking on the train. After several shivering minutes, I gave up and turned the water scalding and took matters into my own hands, refusing to give in to the urge to fantasize about my dream man. After just a few strong tugs, I exploded, coating the wall of my shower.
Every time I slept, even for a nap, I entered my dream man's lair. At first it had been pleasant with few details. But each subsequent night, the details filled in. The lake and the grassy spot by it, the mist and the dawn, a few rocks and the trees all took shape and stood out in detail in the dream. Even my mystery lover became more real with each passing nocturnal encounter. There was a scar on his thigh, the left one, about three inches above his knee in one long arch. There was also an inoculation booster shot scar on his left shoulder. His belly button was inward and his shaft was uncircumcised. But most importantly was the cross he wore round his neck. That detail became clear this morning.
With each passing night, I became more convinced that he was real. Something was causing me to dream about him. I just didn't know what it was. The following Saturday, while watching television, I saw my lake. There was a special on castles in Ireland and near one of them, was a lake, straight from my dream. The willow tree by its side and the rock that jutted from the water were so familiar. I had made love with my guy on that rock, under the willow, on the grassy slope leading back to the castle. My God, I knew where he was. I dropped everything and rushed to the phone, intending to fly to Ireland immediately. But just as I picked up the receiver, logic clouded my mind. I needed to plan this out. I needed to know some things first. So I decided to wait, giving myself two weeks.
During the two allotted weeks, I did some research. I found out the nearby castle was in a state of neglect, which was what the special was about. I looked into it and figured that if I was going to Ireland; I might as well have a reason. I stepped down from my position in the family holdings, becoming a silent partner. I would use the considerable assets I had, but no longer worry about the day-to-day running of the company. When I signed the papers of control, I felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders. I knew I had made the right decision. I also worked with the Irish government to purchase the castle and the lake property surrounding it. My intention was filed and I was awaiting approval to begin renovations. Now I had an excuse to visit.
After two short weeks, I found myself sitting on a 747, winging my way to Dublin. Once I had made my decision to go, the dreams became sharper, almost real. I even once felt like I was having a dream while awake. I was sitting in my chair, reading about the castle, when I felt his hands on me. I put down the papers and felt the sensation of skin skimming over my skin. It was the strangest sensation. Then I felt as if his mouth were covering my cock. I wasn't touching myself, but it felt as if he was moving over me. The sensations grew tighter and tighter within me. I knew I was close to cumming. I felt his mouth move away. Then I felt him sit on my lap. I could feel the soft hair on his ass and legs caress me. I felt him part over my shaft. I felt his back rub in the hair on my chest. Then he began to move. Over and over he rode on my shaft, eliciting tight, spiraling sensations. I felt his heat and wetness. Then I felt him clench me, as if he had found his release. He kept bouncing, until I followed him over the edge. I had my eyes open and I was looking at the walls of my living room, but I felt his body milk an orgasm from me. I felt the wetness seep into my shorts and slacks. I felt the clenching of my muscles with each spurt of release. I collapsed back against my chair, the moment my orgasm done, the feel of his body left me. I felt empty without him.
While sitting on the plane, stretched out, lying reclined in the comfortable chair in first class, I was hoping to avoid going to sleep. But it was night during the flight and just before dawn in Ireland. I felt him pull me into the dream with his own sleepy arousal. On the plane, I knew he was real. I just hoped to find him once there. I tried to keep awake, not wanting to do something embarrassing on the plane. But the quiet hum of the engines and the warm, comfortable chair as well as my mystery man's dream pulled my eyes closed ...
... We met at the lake again. I knew he was near. I shucked my clothes and slipped into the glassy lake. The ice-cold water shocked my system, but I knew once he arrived, I would be heated. I heard the brush rustle and saw it part to reveal him. He stood before me in jeans and nothing else. His breath was coming in fast pants, as if he were already aroused. Looking down his chest to the tent in his clothes, he obviously was. With each step he took toward me, his body became clearer. The tufts of hair on his chest and belly, the silky hair on his corded arms, and the strength of his legs encased in tight denim I was already familiar with. But as he came closer, I saw the bridge of his nose. Each step revealed more and more of his face. He had high cheekbones and curly hair. His eyebrows were thick and dark, his lips full and sensuous. But I couldn't see his eyes, not yet. I trudged out of the water, intent on seeing his eyes. When I reached the shore, he joined me at the water's edge. Then I glimpsed in his eyes for the first time. Blue, like the brightest, deepest sapphires; so different from my mossy green eyes. It was home, I saw straight into him and somehow I knew he was seeing all of me finally. He reached out and trailed a finger along my chest, chasing a bead of water through the hair down to my belly. I was so hard. He grasped my erection and started moving on me. I didn't want him to do this. I grabbed his wrist and pulled him to me. I kissed him. When our mouths parted, he looked in my eyes and spoke to me. It was in a language I didn't understand. I tried to tell him I didn't know, but he just shook his head and kissed me again. I loved the feel of his tongue brushing against mine. Then his arms wrapped around me and drew me to him. My cold, wet chest nestled into the warm, dry curls of his. My loose erection rubbed against the soft ridges of his denim clad one. I moved my hands down to his jeans, but he stopped me. Then he pushed away from me and shook his head. I didn't understand why he pushed me away. He looked down at me, at my aroused state and gulped hard before looking in my eyes again. I saw hunger and passion fire in the sparkling blue. But he didn't move towards me. He shook his head and told me in English, thick with a rich brogue, that we needed to stop this foolish dreaming. He told me he was tired of dreams that stayed unfulfilled. I watched a tear roll down his cheek. I wanted to go to him, tell him I was coming, that I was looking for him. But I never got the chance ...
... I felt someone shake my arm. I woke to see a flight attendant tell me it was time to land. I sat up and wiped a tear off my cheek. I was still aroused, but it was a good feeling. I knew that soon I would find him. Whoever he was. After the plane landed, I had a feeling I wouldn't be going back to America. I went through customs and got a car. I drove towards Galway, to the South actually. I drove to a small inn in the town closest to the castle. On my drive, I watched the rolling, emerald hills, dotted with sheep or rock walls, a few crops and cottages as well as a couple of forested areas. The beauty transfixed me. It was foggy and rainy and I had never seen anything so wonderful. I checked into the little inn, set my stuff down and then walked into the pub connected to it for some lunch. I had a bookmaker's sandwich. Grilled roast beef and tomatoes. It was delicious. I also had my first experience with an actual Guinness. I sat back and took in the wonders. There were a couple of elderly men playing chess and having a yarn about some game they had played when younger. There was a lively lass who served the food and drinks. When the people heard me talk, they pegged me for the Yank I was and started to talk to me. They asked what I was doing in Ireland and I explained about the castle up the road. There were a few disgusted comments and the people turned from me. The waitress leaned down and explained that Michael had been working on it and was hoping to get a grant to take care of the old castle. I felt really bad, but I understood why the government sold the land to me. I wasn't looking for help; I could do all the renovations with my own money, pouring much needed cash into the local economy. I just hoped I could make peace with this Michael.
Sensing my welcome was waning; I left and went upstairs to my room. A few hours later, after calling the government contact I had and explained that I had arrived and was going over the property, I asked about this Michael and his claim on the land. Apparently he was a young man (it made me laugh, only being twenty-three myself) who had grown up in the area and had started to clear the land around the castle, wanting to renovate the castle grounds, restoring the gardens. The idea had merit; I had only thought of the building, I hadn't thought about the grounds. I bought the surrounding land so I could have the lake. Maybe we could work something out.
The time difference with New York had me contemplating the bed when a knock called me to the door. The innkeeper was there. He told me that Michael had found out about my presence and was heading over to have words with me. He told me 'the lad has a fine temper.' Apparently his back was up and wanted to have it out with me. Fine, I would confront him, tell him that I owned the land and the castle and then propose a partnership with him. This was just the setback I didn't need on my quest to find my mystery man.
Deciding it was best to meet him on neutral ground; I headed back down into the pub. But I didn't make it past the front desk when the front door opened. A tall, big man walked in. He had a hat on his head to shield him from the rain. He turned and placed his raincoat and hat on a peg then turned to me. I couldn't have been more surprised. It was my dream man. My breath left me. All I could do was stare. He looked in my eyes and he stopped too. He recognized me. I started to grin. Here he was. I was so happy to see him. Then someone from the bar called out and told Michael to leave the Yank alone. Oh God! His name was Michael; the same Michael who was pissed at me for buying the castle. Oh man!
His smile slowly disappeared as the realization dawned. His voice was thick with a delicious brogue. "You! You are the Yank who bought my castle?"
"Look, I did buy the castle. But I need to talk to you about it."
"What, that you and your Yank money can come in and push me out?"
"Please, let me explain. Give me five minutes. Privately. Please?"
He nodded and we walked into the barman's cozy behind the bar in the pub. I sat in a padded, faded, velvet chair and he in another. The pub owner came in with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He eyed us wearily and then left, shutting the door behind him. I looked at him, taking his measure, enjoying being within touching distance of him. I started to remember some of the delicious things we did to each other.
"Your five minutes is wasting."
I shook myself and I felt myself blush. "I'm sorry. My name is Patrick Jamison. I have to ask you a personal question."
He nodded at me. So I swallowed hard and spoke. "Do you have a scar, about three inches long over your left knee?"
I watched him swallow, shock taking over his features. But he did nod. "How did you know about the scar?"
"I've seen it. In my dreams."
I watched Michael swallow. Then he stood and paced the two or three steps he could in the small room. I sat back and watched him move. For such a large, bulky man, he moved with a sleek grace. I don't think I could ever get tired of looking at him. His legs were bunching with muscle. He was so tense. He looked as if he could jump through the roof. He was the epitome of caged energy. Then he stopped and looked at me.
"So it was all real. You had the dreams too." It wasn't a question but I nodded. "The lake, the woods, all of it real?"
"Yes."
"Did you dream this morning? I saw your eyes for the first time this morning?"
"Yes. I was on the plane. You said something to me I don't understand." I repeated the phrase to him. He just blushed and looked away. "Michael, what did it mean?"
"It's Gaelic. I was telling you that you are my heart, my love."
I stood and walked to him. I moved in to kiss him but he pulled back. I was confused. He looked in my eyes and for once the belligerence was gone. Instead he looked sad.
"Patrick, I'm engaged to be married."
Well that stopped me cold. I felt lost. I had given up my job and my home to come to him. I was at a loss as to what to do. I just looked at him for a minute. He looked truly miserable. I just walked past him and out the door. I headed up the stairs to my room and started to pack my bags. I had no reason to stay in Ireland now. I heard a knock on my door. It was Michael. I walked up and opened the door. He looked miserable and guilty. I felt bad for him, but not bad enough. He saw that I was packing. He stopped what he was about to say and looked me in the eyes. There were so many questions, but I couldn't answer them. He told me that I should stay, at least for the night. I nodded, knowing I was too tired to drive back to Dublin that night. I shut the door to any more questions and moved my bag off the bed. I sat down and started to tug off my boots. I stood and shucked my jeans and sweater and shirt and crawled under the blankets. I turned off the lights and stared out the window at the moon, willing myself to sleep and this time not to dream. Eventually, after a couple of hours, I felt my eyes drift ...
... I walked down the slope to the lake. Michael was standing there, looking out at the water, at the reflection of the moon. I walked up behind him and said his name. He turned to me. He looked haunted and so very sad. He walked up to me and wrapped me in his arms. He nuzzled my neck and moved his hands over my back. I pulled away. I stared in his eyes. Then I simply said to hell with it and kissed him. I moved my hands under his t-shirt and felt the soft, silky hair. I felt his stomach hitch as I rubbed over the ridges. I pulled away from him.
"Where are you Michael? I want to see you. We've been dreaming about it enough."
"No Patrick. This, only this."
"No."
I turned from him and walked away from him. He called me back. I turned, there were tears in his eyes. I couldn't break from the dream. I tried. Michael came up to me. He marched on me, faster and faster. When he got to me, he pulled me roughly to him and started kissing me. He pushed me to the ground. My breath rushed out of me as I hit the grass. He collapsed on top of me, kissing me harder. In all of our dream encounters, not one of them was he the aggressor. But this time he was. He pulled at my clothes. When the cool air beaded my nipples I cried out. He covered first one then the other with his mouth. He nipped and bit at my skin, lapping his tongue along my chest, through the hair covering my belly. He tore at my pants until I was lying in just my boxers. Then he shucked his clothes until he was naked before me.
He knelt between my legs and hooked his elbows under my knees, pushing them forward into my chest. He reached a hand down and yanked the hem of my boxers down, exposing my ass. Michael then pushed into me with one, great thrust. It should have hurt; I've never done this before. Instead I was rocked with lust and passion as I clenched him. I had never known such fullness, such connection. I felt him rock into me, twisting and swiveling, hitting every bump and nerve ending I had. I felt myself grow harder, stretch tighter. I was taut with need, barely able to keep from tripping. My orgasm reached to me through my dream and I clamped him as I spurt between us. Michael kept pumping. I usually wake up when I cum. I was still in the dream.
He kept pistoning into me. I was spent. I wanted to wake up. The sex had been beyond belief, but it was all I was ever going to have; a fake love affair with a real live person. I beat my fist on his back. I wanted it over. I wanted him to stop or cum just so the dream would end. After a few minutes I watched as he reared his head back and bellowed his release. I felt each jet hot inside me and wondered if it would be there when I woke. But again I didn't wake up.
Michael slowly calmed. He looked down at me and withdrew from my body. He sat by me on the ground. I lowered my legs and pulled my shorts up, suddenly feeling naked and vulnerable. Michael reached for his briefs and put them on.
"Why haven't we woken up?"
"I don't know."
"You realize Michael that even if you marry, we will probably still have the dream."
"I know."
"Can you live like that? Wondering if each night will cause you to cum in your sleep, possibly calling out my name?"
"Stop!"
"No. You don't have to be with me. But damn it, don't use the castle as an excuse."
"Why did you buy it?"
"To be close to you. I saw the lake from our dreams on the television and the castle behind it. I knew this was where you would be. I have lots of money and wanted to do something with it. But in case you weren't here, I wanted something to do until I could find you."
"You've given up a lot to find me, haven't you?"
"Not really."
"No bullshit now."
"Okay, my home in New York and my position in the company. But it doesn't matter."
"I need a few days to think. I have to make a decision."
"We will probably still see each other in our sleep."
"I know."
"I want to see the castle tomorrow. I'll stay out of your way. But I need to actually see where we have been together."
"Fine, I need to go to Galway anyway."
I laughed. "How do we wake up?"
He chuckled too. "Try opening your eyes ...
... The sun was shining in my face. I reached down under the blankets, but my shorts were dry. Perhaps we weren't connected this time. Maybe it was just a regular dream. I decided to make good on my plans and got up and bathed. Then I had a good, traditional Irish breakfast (don't ask what black and white pudding is), then set off.
The castle sat amidst a few tall, stately trees. The years had not been kind to either the grounds or the structure. But there was sign of recent, loving care being given to the old place. I walked the grounds and circled around the stately manor. When I reached the North corner, I knew that the path before me led to the lake. I followed it down towards the water. There stood the beautiful willow and the smooth rock that jutted from the water a few feet from shore. I grew wistful while contemplating what might never actually be. But that's as may be.
I walked back to the castle and walked up the steps to the main entrance. The doors were barred, but I peeked into a few of the windows. Internally, things looked relatively sound. As I looked around, I couldn't help but wonder what I was going to do with it all. My original plans were to do what so many others had done with their old homes and turn it into a hotel, but that seemed crass somehow. Then I realized I couldn't do much without input from the village down the lane. What would they say to a big hotel, taking business from the quaint inn and lively pub? I don't know. I really hadn't a clue.
I drove back towards town, still muddled with my ideas when I saw a bit of coastline. I turned off and followed a winding road towards a cliff. I got out of my car and looked out at the gray-green of the Atlantic. Mighty waves crashed into the rocks below. I could almost imagine the numerous people who must have stood here and wondered what was beyond the horizon to the West. Iceland, Greenland, Canada. All untamed lands at one point. And here, on the coast of Ireland, was where a great many of its settlers started. I turned to go back to my car when I noticed my castle further away along the coast. It looked out over the sea like a sentinel, the lake further inland. At that moment I had an idea, one so simple, yet far reaching that I wished Michael were here to share it with me. So strange how we had only met once, but I felt so connected to him. Well, even dream sex is a great link between two people.
When I got back to my room, I was tempted to nap so I could try and pull Michael into my dream so I could tell him my plans. But I resisted. So I went down to the pub and had a pint. Which led to another. And another. And another. By dinnertime I was pretty well sloshed. A couple of the regulars helped me upstairs and to my room. I collapsed on the bed and was out ...
... We met at the lake like always. But everything swam before me. I kept staggering to the right or left when I meant to walk towards the water. Maybe I shouldn't be so near when I am drunk. So I sat down and waited for Michael. In no time I heard him behind me. He walked up to me and sat beside me. He smiled at me. I couldn't help it. I giggled.
"So it's drunk you be, is it?"
"You better believe it."
"Why Patrick?"
"I had an epi... epith... epiphany by the castle today. I wanted to share it with you. But I had some time to kill before bed. So one pint led to another."
"Where are you Patrick?"
"In my room at the inn. Why?"
"I want to see you."
"That's nice Michael. That's rather sweet." I hiccupped. "Hey wait a minute. How long have you been working on the castle. It doesn't look like much has been done."
"Since the morning after the first dream."
"Oh, Michael."
"You need to wake up Patrick. I will come to you at the inn, I promise. But I can't go unless you wake up."
"Open my eyes again? ...
... The moon shone in my window and my head spun around it. I had never been much of a drinker, now I knew why. I wondered how long it would take Michael to reach me. But it really didn't matter. God I need to pee. I was stumbling towards the toilet when Michael walked in. He took one look at me and laughed. He helped me to the bathroom and stood behind me as I took care of business. Then he stripped me down and put me in the shower before joining me after shucking his own clothes. He really is magnificent you know?
Then the magnificent bastard turned on the water. Ice cold water. He held my head down and under the spray until I sputtered. Then I called his mother three types of whore before he finally let me up. But, I will give him this, the room no longer spun. Bastard. He laughed at me before throwing me a towel. He stepped out of the shower and dried himself before going into the room. After drying myself I followed him with the towel slung low on my hips. I was freezing. I found Michael under the covers. He told me to join him. He said it was to conserve body heat. I hoped he meant some athletic building of heat. I jumped right in with him. There was a hot water bottle lying between us. No quickie for us. Damn!
I reached for him, wanting to touch him. But he stopped my hand and brought it to his lips. He told me to wait, until I was completely sober. I lay back and he reached over me and turned off the light. I watched as moonlight caught in his long lashes as they fluttered closed. I had had some sleep, but needed more ...
... We met at the lake again. We were naked and lying by each other on the grassy slope, looking at the moonlight reflecting in the water. I looked over at him; his chest rose and fell lightly with each breath. It accentuated the muscles and hair on his body. I felt myself get hard, really hard. I turned to him, rolling on top of him. There was something warm between our bellies. My erection nestled against his, pillowed by all the soft hair on our bodies, cushioned by the hard muscles and warm skin of our bellies. I couldn't help it; I thrust upwards, gliding over his bulging, muscular chest. After a few, slow thrusts, I took his mouth and kissed him. We kept moving, him meeting my hips equally with each of my thrusts. We kept moaning, groaning and grunting. There was a bird chirping in the tree overhead. God it was lousy at peeping. It sounded like a squeak, almost like a rusty spring. Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! ...
... I awoke, on top of Michael, with the bed squeaking as I moved over him. We were hard and dripping. The hot water bottle wedged between our sternums. I looked in his eyes as he met mine. We couldn't stop laughing. We stopped moving and laughed. The bed shook more from our laughter than our lovemaking. I was still looking at him when we stopped. The air around us changed. I leaned into him and kissed him; our first real kiss. My lips moved over his and he met me, kiss for kiss. Our tongues pushed out slightly and met, tip to tip. I brushed over his tongue with my own, caressing his own and taking his taste to my brain. I wanted to make love to him. I wanted to be inside him; but not here at the inn. I pulled away from his lips. His lips were swollen. He was panting, looking at me in wonder. I noticed the gold cross in the hollow of his throat. The last piece was in place.
"Not here Michael. We need to go to the lake. Our first time needs to be there."
"I know."
We got up and dressed, working really hard to zip up over our erections. It was close to midnight when we left the pub. We crawled into my car with a couple of blankets and headed out. It took no time at all to reach the castle. I pulled into the drive and we hopped out and practically ran to the lake. When we got there, I pulled him into my arms. I started to kiss him. I pulled off his sweater and shucked his jeans, pulling every stitch of clothing off of him until he was naked. I pushed him onto the ground and proceeded to worship his body. I started at his feet, kissing and licking around each toe. I trailed my tongue up the arch of his foot. I nipped at his ankle and flicked the back of his knee. Then I worshipped each inch of his thigh with open-mouthed kisses. I nuzzled his scrotum with my nose before moving down to his other foot. I spent a lot of time on the scar over his knee. Then I moved up until my cheek grazed his erect penis. Michael was writhing on the grass, whimpering in agonized pleasure. I skipped his center and moved to his fingers, then wrist, elbow, shoulder and armpit. First his left arm, then the right. Then I worshipped at his neck, nipping on his earlobes before latching on to his pulse, low by his shoulder. I know I was leaving a mark, and I didn't care. I moved my mouth down and latched on to one of his nipples. I teased it, and then bit it before sucking him deeply into my mouth, suckling and laving the sensitive tip. Then I moved down to his navel, swirling my tongue around and then into the slight indentation. I tried my hardest to untie the knot. I pulled up to look at him, he was panting. His eyes were glassy and his skin was flushed a rosy pink. I loved him.
I moved between his legs and kissed the leaking tip of him, one simple peck of my lips. Michael reared up, moaning hard at my barest touch.
"Stop! Patrick, I'm too close to cumming. Inside me; I want us to cum together."
I took his hand and placed it on my shaft. I twitched when he squeezed me, so close to orgasm I held his hand still. I told him to guide me. I felt the sticky tip brush through his silky hair. Then I felt the warm, pulsing opening below me. I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head. Then I was parting him, moving forward by scant millimeters. I looked down at Michael as I pushed forward. When I breached his sphincter, placing the head of my cock inside him, Michael arched his back and cried out as he shot stream after healthy stream of semen over the both of us. He moaned and grunted, then kept chanting 'too soon, too soon.'
"It's beautiful when you cum Michael. I want to see it again."
Then I pushed completely inside of him, seating myself to the hilt. I felt him quiver and adjust to my breadth and girth. I clenched my jaw and tried hard not to cum right then. Slowly he relaxed around me and I knew a tenuous grip on control. I pulled out slightly and then pushed back. Michael moaned under me. I repeated the motion again, then again. I kept arching into him, meeting his body with my own. I ground my hips into his, feeling the soft hair become matted with sweat. Both of our bodies dripped with it as we moved together. I kept up my motions, trying so hard not to trip. But I wanted to cum so badly, my orgasm was hovering around me; keeping my belly quivering and my legs rocking. I shut my eyes, hoping to stop the moment from happening, just for a while longer. But it was no good. I was just too damn close. I opened my eyes so I could look at Michael. I felt my shaft start to twitch in great, heaving movements as I came. Each spurt of semen left me and I called out his name. "Oh Michael! Oh Michael! Oh Michael!"
When the last of my spasms stopped, once I slowed my undulating hips and was about to stop moving, Michael reared up his head and cried out. I watched him, so sweaty and flushed from our lovemaking, as he climaxed again. I was looking in his eyes, holding his stare, willing him to see how much I loved him. At the periphery edge of my vision I saw stream after stream of his release slide up his chest, towards the hollow of his throat. I had my arms braced over him, my palms feeling the soft grass below me. Each breath of my body caused my cock to twitch in ecstatic aftershocks. I kept staring into his eyes, until my body wouldn't support me anymore. I collapsed on top of Michael, finding solace and comfort as his arms wrapped around me. I felt myself soften and slip out of him. He met my lips for a tired kiss.
After a while, we rolled to our feet and trudged to the lake, rinsing our bodies in the cool water. The chilly water lapped at our waists and we started splashing, playfully. Then we crawled onto the shore, rolling into one of our blankets, half drying, half warming our bodies. Michael looked at me and asked what my plan for the castle was.
"I want to turn it into a museum and gallery. It is huge. I got the idea while looking out over the sea. So many Americans don't have any clue who or what there past really is. I'm hoping we can turn the castle into a place for some of them to find their past."
"That's not a bad idea. But I want to restore the gardens."
"Of course."
"I think there should be a restaurant too."
"We can work on that. What about your fiancee?"
"I saw her today and broke things off with her. You were right you know, the dream wasn't going to end, even if we were apart."
"Are you okay with this?"
"I always was, it was marriage I had doubts about."
I kissed him, curling my body around his, feeling us drift towards sleep.
I awoke to the dawn, and I hadn't dreamed. I wondered what had happened to the magic. For the first night in six months, I hadn't dreamt of my mystery man. Then he rolled against me, nuzzling my neck and wrapping a leg over mine. He reached his hand down to cup my burgeoning erection. And I smiled at the new day by our misty lake by the sea on the coast of Ireland.