Montecristo Captain Quixote

montecristo

The World Line of the Horizon Star

Some would say I was a lost man in a lost world


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Morpheus Captain Dreaming
montecristo

I still feel the motion when I'm home in bed

It's 57° F and overcast this morning. The furnace is running, but so is the fan in my bedroom. That seems wasteful, but I like to have air moving. It's a lazy morning. I'm feeling pretty rested. I woke up from another of my infamous "almost sex" dreams. One would think they would be frustrating but I don't see them that way. It's my subconscious talking to me. I don't think my subconscious is in any way obligated to entertain me with porn; it has more to talk about than getting off. Sometimes though, I wonder what it's trying to accomplish with these interior monologues.

I am standing in a room built like a large one-room apartment. It is furnished with some tables and chairs, a large bed, bookshelves, a television, a kitchen area with a counter top, an oven and microwave. I am aware that I am working at a company whose business apparently is designing some sort of high tech human-machine interface devices. A friend and coworker of mine, who is not someone from the waking world, are messing around with one such device. He and I are messing around with what is essentially a light green tennis ball, except a bit softer than a regulation tennis ball. There is another difference in this thing: you can control it with your mind, like "using the Force" on it, or telekinesis, to move it around and make it do things. It is some sort of proof-of-concept device. After a while of playing around with the tennis ball, we are joined by a woman coworker of ours, another person I do not recognize as being from the waking world. I don't know her name, but then, I don't know the man's name as well, I just know that I know both of them and that we have a typical working relationship that is friendly and cordial.

After some small talk, my male coworker tells us that he has other business to which to attend and departs. The woman and I continue to experiment and play around with the telekinetic tennis ball and talk. She's quite attractive, average height and build, with a pretty face, dark eyes and shoulder-length brunette hair with a lot of wave and curl to it. She's wearing a short, open lab coat, similar to one I am wearing and one worn by the now absent male coworker, and under her lab coat she is wearing a very nice summer dress that shows off her figure nicely.

She and I continue to chat, and the topic of conversation turns to another interface device, on which she is working. This one is only in the mechanical design phase, and has no telekinetic workings yet integrated into it. She reaches into the pocket of her lab coat and takes it out. It is very similar to the tennis ball, having the same size and shape, but this one is different. It is pink, divided into five or six lobes, and from an opening at one pole of the ball four wires protrude, ending in metal rings, about the size and shape of small key rings.

She hands the ball to me and I turn it over in my hands. She says, "Hold onto it and pull the rings." Doing that makes the ball open up and the interior is a weird flower full of soft fleshy petals and similar flower parts. The wires and rings originate from the base of the flower, where the stem would be. The parts move around, twist, wave, curl, or come together or apart, as the rings are manipulated. Obviously, given the blatant vaginal imagery, it's some sort of sex toy, but not exactly what I would call a very efficient one. It isn't built for penetration, for example, either to penetrate or be penetrated. This thing would surely only be good for surface stimulation in the case of either sex.

I tell her that, just given what we have here, with the device in its current state, I don't see a whole lot of potential in the thing, and I hand it back to her and ask her what she thinks of its possibilities. At this point, she takes out four spools of string. She ties the free end of the string from each spool to a different one of the rings. Then she hands the ball/flower toy back to me and proceeds walk around the room unwinding the four spools as she goes, keeping the strings together and trailing them out all over the room, across tables and chairs and book cases, counter-tops, the bed, finally returning to me and handing me the other ends of the strings.

At this point, I cannot see what all this string is supposed to accomplish, so I start winding the string up again, like a ball of yarn in my hands. At this point, she sighs and walks over to the bed, sits on the edge of it, removes her shoes and crawls up onto the bed and sits in a rather provocative pose. She is sitting with her back against the low headboard at about the middle, her arms out along the top of it to the left and right. Her left foot is drawn up so that her knee is raised and the hem of her dress rides up her thigh, but the hemline is such and it is still far enough down her thigh, that nothing too personal is being revealed, at the moment.

I turn to her, hike my left eyebrow, and smile. I set the ball of strings and the device on a coffee table near me and then walk over to the bed. She says, "I thought it might have taken you longer to figure it out." I'm not sure what, exactly, I have figured out, other than the observation that she's behaving provocatively and I am drawn to her. She smiles and I crawl onto the bed, lying on my stomach and propping myself up on my elbows, in front of her, between her legs.

I settle in and take her bare left calf in my hands. It's smooth and soft. I can smell the faint traces of some perfume and clean skin, as well as undertones of her own scent. I run my hands over her skin, enjoying the feel of warm flesh while I look her over, appreciating her. Running my hands down her leg I notice that there is a slight curvature to her shin and her feet turn inward slightly. I smile at her and say, "Hmm, you're a little bit pigeon-toed." At this, she frowns, exclaims, "You aren't supposed to notice that!" and leaps out of bed and storms out of the room. I wake up, kind of flustered but I knew I shouldn't have said anything.

The thing is, I was just noticing something that I thought was interesting. I always appreciated the kinds of intimacy where you learn about the little things that make each of us unique and which nobody else notices or sees, usually. I wonder what made me dream that? Crystal was born with her feet turned. I can't make anything of my subconscious.

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