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My eyes opened to reality.

“What?”

“You were moaning in your sleep. Thrashing around. Nightmare?”

I let go of the pillow I clutched to my chin with both hands. A moment ago that pillow had been Pam’s ass cheeks.

“What?”

“God, your sweating. Are you coming down with something?”

“No. Nightmare. Sorry. Gonna go get some water.”

“OK. Are you sure you’re OK?”

“Yeah. Just need some water.”

I threw my feet out of bed and walked naked to the bathroom. Splashed water in my face. Stuck my mouth under the spray. Peaked back out the bathroom door into our bedroom.

Dian had turned on her side again, facing away from the bathroom light.

The digital on our bedroom dresser indicated it was just past three in the morning.

“Fuck it,” I muttered. “Rise and shine.”

Morning rituals. The coffee pot prepared. The laptop booted.

The loose gym shorts I had thrown on upstairs pup tented out in front of me. My balls ached.

As the coffee pot did it’s thing, I listened to the house.

The usual creaks and moans were absent.

It was as if they had gone into hiding as soon as the girls moved back in upstairs.

When it was just me and Dian and our little empty nest, I could hear everything in the morning. The house settling. Imagined squirrels in the attic. The wind against the chimes on the front porch.

Now all I could hear was the coffee pot doing it’s thing and the heartbeat in my balls and cock.

Fuck, I was horny.

Dreaming about multiple women sitting on my face and sucking my cock did that to me.

Three of them. At one time.

Dian. Pam. Kari.

I had never had a dream like that before–at least one that I could remember.

What the fuck was up with that?

I took my coffee and my laptop into the man cave.

Flipped on the TV. Muted it. Let the scores scroll, the highlights roll, as the computer screen came to life.

Porn?

Not this morning. Hell, not in a lot of mornings these days. The real thing with Dian beat the shit out of flickering images on the laptop.

Porn?

Not this morning. Not with the house full once again.

Porn?

Not this morning. Not with what had just unfolded upstairs in my dreams.

Again, what the fuck was up with that?

I brought up an Excel spreadsheet of the home finances. Everything was paid for this month. Savings looked good. Investments looked good.

My cock wasn’t going down. My balls were still throbbing.

“Fuck it,” I muttered and set the laptop on the table next to the recliner..

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