After my first ever wet dream, I spent an hour or so lying in bed in that beautiful state between sleep and consciousness. My entire body was relaxed and my mind was swimming in and out of hazy half-dreams. But the best part: My little toy was still under the blankets, tucked tightly into my boxer-briefs with my stirring cock.
I was just sleepy enough to hold onto the dream of him, and it was giving me the most amazing morning wood ever.
The image of a little man peering up at me from the cave of my underwear is one that I've held in my mind so many times, when I've been masturbating or writing a story, that it almost seems almost like a real memory. I think that helped to place him there in the dream just knowing that he would be there when I looked down.
The more I visualised it, the more I could feel the smoothness of his tiny arms and legs sliding against my damp cock, his knees and palms squashing into my scrotum.
I was just sleepy enough to hold onto the dream of him, and it was giving me the most amazing morning wood ever.
The image of a little man peering up at me from the cave of my underwear is one that I've held in my mind so many times, when I've been masturbating or writing a story, that it almost seems almost like a real memory. I think that helped to place him there in the dream just knowing that he would be there when I looked down.
The more I visualised it, the more I could feel the smoothness of his tiny arms and legs sliding against my damp cock, his knees and palms squashing into my scrotum.