Waylon woke up with a start. He released a sigh as long as the last time he’d had sex. It was just a dream. It had felt so real. He could still feel her supple body, sweaty and slippery from her exertions as she rode him, her heels digging into his sides, her voice quavering with passion.
“I love you!” he had whispered, sounding hoarse like he had been shouting all night as he erupted forcefully.
He looked down at his boxers and remembered something he had seen somewhere online once.
A wet dream was just a regular dream with a happy ending.
There was nothing regular about Jurnee. She was a goddess. He was dying to meet her, but he was scared. Supposed she didn’t like him when she met him in person? He had heard of situations like that, people falling in love online and quickly falling out offline. He wasn’t religious despite his mom’s best efforts – she was a devout Baptist – but he had been praying regularly since he met Jurnee.
