Should I cross the river, well, I may get swept away ...
I'm lying in bed. I can hear Peter Gabriel and the Afro-Celt Sound System: "When You're Falling" playing quietly in my head. I am Prince Philip of the U.K. (obviously, although I'm not thinking of that particular ramification of the circumstances at the time). The woman in bed next to me is my wife, the queen, although not the actual model but the one played by Helen Mirren in the movie, The Queen, that I have never seen except for a trailer or two. [I guess, after seeing Mirren in Calendar Girls, I have a better image of what she actually looks like.] My wife is asleep, exhausted from doing whatever esoteric things that royal people do with themselves during their day. I am conscious of the fact that I am horny as hell and feeling more than a little emotionally amorous as well.
If you can anticipate where this is headed it wouldn't surprise me if you bailed-out and stopped reading right about now.
I roll over on my side and reach for her. I start stroking her belly through the silk of her nightgown. For some reason unknown to sound mental health, I'm not thinking about how OMG old the woman is ... I'm just thinking about her being my wife, and wanting her. I affect a Cockney accent and in the best bedroom-voice I can muster, I start to sweet/dirty talk her, trying to wake her up. I tell her exactly how up I am for a shag, putting things in a coarse vernacular because I know the lady is "a fancier of the rough tumble" when she's feeling frisky. When she starts conscious movement, I take her hand rub myself in her palm to let her assess for herself the state of things. She closes her hand around me and I feel her grip tighten as she wakes up. She rolls towards me. It's dark but I can feel her breath warm and soft on my face as her arm slides up my body to embrace me. I pull her to me and kiss her.
Mercifully, I bailed-out at this point and woke up.
I was going to go back to sleep but I found that I just couldn't without writing down the disgorged content of my id first. I'm not sure what to think about this one. I was a bit disturbed, a bit amused, and certainly horny, and somewhat ... wanting, in a vaguely indescribable way. I'm confounded but grinning. My brain's propensity for weirdness is always surprising and entertaining. If I have to have dreams of a sexual nature, why couldn't this one have been about a pair of twenty-five year old twin nymphomaniac Scandinavian princesses? Sometimes, I think I want to unscrew the top of my skull, pull out my brain and give it a good scrubbing with Comet Cleanser and a wire brush. WTF. I think I need an hour or two more of snooze, now that that's out of my system. Heh.