A dirty dream leads to a real-life erotic encounter with a sexy stranger that far exceeds the fantasy.

“I like your perfume.“

The voice came from behind me on the busy train. We were packed in tight, but not like sardines. Everyone always says “sardines.“ We were packed in like too many tired, under-caffeinated travelers on a morning commute. The difference was that I’d had the filthiest dream of my life the night before. And I’d been drenched in that hazy sensation of almost coming ever since. In my dream I had fucked a man I didn’t know. He’d taken me every different way I’ve ever wanted to be taken. The thrill was in not knowing his name, not knowing anything about him.

Whenever I closed my eyes, I caught snippets of the dream, the words he’d said, and the things he’d done to me. I’d dressed with the x-rated visions in mind. I’d put on this perfume with the dream in mind.

“It smells like sex.“

I closed my eyes as the train jostled us together. Was I still asleep? I could feel the stranger’s hard cock behind me, pressed against me. I opened my eyes again, staring straight at a poster that had been graffitied over to mean something entirely different from what the advertisers had originally intended.

The man was pushing against me with each turn, each twist. More people seemed to be getting on the train than off, so that we were meshed in tighter than I could remember ever happening on a commute before. I wanted to see what the stranger looked like. I could feel his hard body. I could smell his minty breath and the spice of his aftershave.

“Hot sex,“ he said into my ear. Oh, fuck. I arched back against him, so that my ripe ass nuzzled into his crotch. The next sound I heard in my ear was a sigh. His breath warmed my already flushed skin. I no longer truly cared what he looked like, but I turned my head slightly just to see, curiosity getting the better of me.

He was the man of my dreams, literally, and my heart raced. Here was a commuter I’d been gazing at for months. We rode the same train at the same time. Clearly, my subconscious had starred him in my fantasy. He wasn’t my general type, which is why I’d never made a move before. He had to be fifteen years my senior, and he possessed a type of authoritative air that had made me feel insecure. I generally date musicians who support themselves with all sorts of odd jobs.

This man wore a suit.

And he was hard in that suit.

I took a chance. At the next stop, I forced my way off the train. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t look behind me. But in seconds, I felt his hand on my shoulder. “This isn’t your stop,“ he said. I spun to look at him. “It is today,“ I told him.

Then we were kissing — kissing like it was necessary, like without it we would evaporate into nothing. We made out right there on the train station platform as if we’d been plucked from a black-and-white movie. I didn’t know where to go after that, but he did. He grabbed my hand and led me to the nearest exit. We took the stairs together, emerging into the early morning like prisoners making a break for it. Everyone around us was destined for work. We were destined for… where?

He didn’t tell me. He simply took me, trotting me down one quick block to a hotel. His credit card, a key, a grope-filled elevator ride, and we were in the room and on each other. “I had this dream,“ I said, as he tore my clothes off me.

“Yes.“

“You ate me out until I came like I never had before. You put my legs over your shoulders and you buried your face in my pussy. Then you were fucking me doggy-style, pulling my hair, spanking my ass. I didn’t have to tell you what I liked. You just knew.“

He lifted me up and spread me out on the mattress. His big hands roamed over my pale, naked skin. I couldn’t stop talking for some reason, even though I’m usually fairly quiet in bed. The dream, it seemed, had unlocked a whole new part of me.

“… and then you ate my asshole, rimming me until I climaxed again. It was one of those dreams where things merge and change, but every time, we were connected, and you made me come over and over. I put on that perfume today, because I felt like people would be able to smell the sex on my skin.“

“I could,“ he said, and he was scooting me backward on the bed, hooking my feet over his shoulders. “I could smell the sex. This sex.“ And his tongue was on my clit and he was licking me, sucking me up, drinking me down. I thought of all the times I’d watched him on the train, how serious he looked in his suit, with his case, with his phone. He was all business then, as he was all business now, licking and flicking my clit with his tongue. He covered my entire naked pussy with his mouth and sucked, as if he were eating a juicy piece of exotic fruit. Then he traced pretty designs with his tongue directly over my clit, making me come in seconds so that I gripped on to his jacket and cried out.

He stripped while I lay there, completely decimated, and then he positioned me as I’d described, on hands and knees with him behind me.

“I’m going to fuck you until you come again,“ he said, “and then you’re going to clean my cock for me. You’re going to lick all your sweet honey from my shaft and tip, and then I’ll fuck you again and get more juices for you to lick away.“

I felt as if my entire body was vibrating. His words turned me on as much as his actions.

“You’re going to give me the blowjob I’ve been fantasizing about for months,“ he said, entirely naked now, standing behind me. I looked over my shoulder at him, watching him while he gripped my hips and began to thrust. “Every time I’ve seen you on the train, I’ve imagined pushing you to your knees, undoing my fly, and having you suck me. I’ve thought about the two of us surrounded by all the morning zombies. I wondered if we might break them out of their sleepy haze.“

I didn’t care about the commuters now. All I cared about was his cock. He fucked me as I’d described, doing me doggy-style at a fierce pace, spanking my ass and pulling my long hair. He reached under me to stroke my clit while he worked me, and I came for the second time of the morning, moaning my pleasure as the beat of it drummed through me. Then we slid to his part of the fantasy, and I spun around and began to blow him. I was humming with the bliss of my two climaxes, but I made sure to take care of him, to give him exactly what he needed.

He didn’t come in my mouth, though. He flipped me once more and then he started to rim my ass, parting my cheeks wide and hard and darting his tongue around my tight hole. I gripped the sheets and blankets to hold myself steady. My pussy made a huge wet spot on the comforter below me. I was as turned on as I’d ever been my entire life. He slid a finger into my ass and began to fuck me like that, until I begged him to add another, then another. When I had taken three digits, he seemed to think I was more than ready for something else.

He flipped me over so I was facing him and draped my legs over his shoulders. Next, I felt his cockhead on my backdoor, and I said, “Yes.“ That’s all he needed to hear. He fucked my asshole the way he’d fucked my pussy, my copious juices leaking down, wetting him. I was transported by the endorphins, out of my mind as he pinched my clit and sent me reeling once more. This time, he reached his own climax, as well, filling me with his come, sealing himself to me, and then ever so slowly withdrawing.

Afterward, we were two strangers in a sex-scented hotel room. I wondered what would happen next. He said, “Call your office,“ and he handed me his cell phone. I did, making excuses while I heard him use the hotel line to talk to the concierge. He was requesting toothbrushes and paste, a bottle of champagne, a gourmet breakfast.

When he got off the phone, I looked at him.

“We need sustenance,“ he said, grinning at me. “Before we make the rest of our dreams come true… “