I know you will find my story hard to believe, though I assure you that everything I am about to tell you is the truth. I wouldn’t believe it myself if I hadn’t lived through it. I survived, but the experience has left me scarred and doubting my sanity.

It began as a dream but ended as a nightmare, a nightmare which came to me while wide awake and fully lucid, a nightmare with a name: Desdemona.

I remember, back before it began, being unable to sleep well for several nights in a row. My mind was uneasy, tense, and worried about something, though I could never figure out exactly what. I would sit up until the wee hours of the morning, fretting over everything and anything. When I did eventually sleep, it was restless and fitful. I tossed and turned and awoke tired and irritable.

Chapter 1

I was alone, walking in the darkness. The moon just disappeared behind a bank of clouds. The woods around me were silent and brooding. I didn’t know why I had come to that clearing; something or someone had called me there. I knelt on the soft mound of moss and realized, with shock, that I was both naked and fully aroused, my swollen and erect member standing out from my body.

I smelled her first, her scent, a mixture of oud and myrrh, with a hint of earthy spices, came on the gentle breeze. I felt her presence, ancient, mysterious, and powerful. Then, from the darkness at the edge of the clearing, she came, her flaming red hair flowing freely about her shoulders, her nude form lightly covered by diaphanous black lace, that did little to hide her full body, ample breasts, and erect nipples.

She seemed to float, her bare feet only brushing against the ground. I was unable to move, unable to speak, unable to avoid her penetrating gaze. When our eyes met, I felt pure, uncontrollable lust, and wanted her more than I had ever wanted any woman. I needed her with a passion that burned inside me, consuming me. Her beauty was terrifying, yet, like the moth drawn to his death, I yearned for her burning touch.

She placed a hand upon my chest, and it burned. I nearly screamed from the pain, but no sound could come from my throat as she pushed me onto my back. The moss was damp and cold, in contrast to the fiery feel of her touch and the warmth from the nearness of her body.

She straddled me and lowered down. My hands went to her firm, breasts as I felt her heat engulf my rigid cock in its infernal embrace. She lowered down until I was fully embedded deep inside her. The fire of her loins incinerating my cock, my balls, my manhood. I cried out silently and began to thrust into her, each torturous movement sending blissful pleasure into my soul.

She leaned closer, her lips nearly brushing my own as she whispered. Her voice penetrated the glorious agony of our coupling, registering on my nearly delirious brain. “Give me your seed,” she said, compelling me to do as she bid.

I arched my back, driving my cock deeper into her, and cried out.

As I came into my pajama bottoms, I woke, suddenly aware of the room around me, the soft bed under me and the body of my wife, lying asleep next to me. I rolled on my side and tried to stop the orgasm, clamping down hard on the muscles that let you stop the flow of urine, to no avail, my cum shot out, leaving me wet and sticky.

I slid out of bed and quietly darted into the bathroom to clean up the mess. I couldn’t understand what was happening to me. I had not had a wet dream since I was a teenager, and yet here I was, having one every night for the past two weeks. Each time it was the same dream, the same woman, the same scene. I put on a dry pair of pajama pants and slipped back in bed.

As I was about to drift off to sleep, I heard my wife whimper. She was breathing erratically, and her legs were kicking slowly. I pulled the covers down and found her naked, which surprised me, as Jenny always went to bed wearing one of my t-shirts. Her nipples were fully erect, and they heaved up and down with her deep breaths. Her head tossed side to side, and her legs slowly parted as if spread by an unseen force.

Had she somehow heard me during my wet dream, and had it influenced her own dream state? Her eyes were closed, but in the dim light, I could see the rapid movement as they moved to track whatever vision she was having in her inner world. She gasped as her hips lifted off the bed, moving rhythmically, with her feet planted flat on the bed. I watched, mesmerized as she fucked the open space between her legs.

Then, she thrashed wildly, as if she were having a seizure. I became alarmed and tried to rouse her from her sleep to no avail. She let out a long, wavering moan, and it was clear she was in the deep throes of ecstasy brought on by a powerful orgasm. Her hips bucked. Her head tossed violently. She grunted and growled. Suddenly, her entire body tensed, and she lifted from the bed, with only her feet and the top of her head making contact with the mattress.

I watched as she remained motionless, without breathing for longer than I thought possible. Then, just as suddenly as it began, she collapsed onto the mattress and curled into the fetal position, facing me. Her eyes fluttered open. She saw me and smiled, then put her arms around me, pulling me to her.

“You animal!” she whispered as she clung to me. Her body was trembling, and her breathing was slowly returning to normal. I held her, confused, aroused, and curious until I joined her in sleep.

Chapter 2

The next morning, I woke, and Jenny was not in bed. I found her in the kitchen, making pancakes. When she saw me, she smiled and gave me a warm hug and kiss. “My God, you wore me out last night,” she said. “What got into you? You haven’t fucked me like that in a long time.”

I scratched my chin and replied, “Honey, you were dreaming. We didn’t have sex last night.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she said as she flipped the pancakes. “I know when I have been fucked. My pussy is sore. You were very rough on the beaver last night.”

I stared at her, remembering flashes of my dream and watching her as she dreamed she was being fucked. I didn’t want to argue, as this whole thing was just weird, so I nodded and let it go.

“Just do me a favor,” she said. “Wait a couple of days before you do that again, my pussy needs time to recover, not to mention my poor little butthole.”

She kissed me again, stared deeply into my eyes, and said, “Ok, maybe one day.”

“Sure,” I replied.

We spent the day around the house doing chores. Jenny was reorganizing the pantry, and I had my regular honey-do list to take care of, mostly out in the yard. I noticed the for sale sign on the house next door had a big “under contract” banner attached to it. That was good news. The house had been vacant for the last six months. It was hard to sell a home in which the previous owners had enacted a suicide pact, taking each other’s lives. Hopefully, the new neighbors would be our age and relatable.

That night, Jenny got very frisky after dinner and, in spite of her sourness, wanted me to go down on her. I was happy to oblige her needs, as giving my wife oral was one of my greatest pleasures. Unfortunately, after a couple of minutes, she complained that she was too sore and asked me to stop. We cuddled for a bit, then went to bed. Jenny fell asleep right away, but I stayed up, reading a book until I passed out.

I had the same dream again and awoke just as I was ejaculating, exactly like nearly every night for the past two weeks. What was happening to me? Was this some kind of strange midlife crisis? Maybe there was a medical reason. I was embarrassed and confused by the experience. On top of the weird feelings, I wasn’t getting quality sleep. Every day, I felt increasingly exhausted and would often nod off at work.

It was a Friday, and I decided that if the weird dream and lack of sleep continued through the weekend, I would go to a doctor about it on Monday. I got up before Jenny and made coffee. As it was finishing, my wife stumbled into the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” she asked. “I would make the coffee and something to eat.”

“You looked so peaceful sleeping,” I told her. “I didn’t want to disturb you. I know how to make coffee, and I just want a bagel this morning.”

She slinked over to me and wrapped her arms around me, affectionately. “Not that I’m complaining,” she said softly, “but I told you I needed a day or two to recover. You were even rougher last night.”

“I was?” I asked. We hadn’t had sex. Was she dreaming again, too?

“I don’t know what you’ve been doing the past few nights, but damn,” she said, kissing me on my chest. “whatever it is, don’t stop it. I love it, even if I have a hard time walking.

“Are you taking some kind of male enhancement pills or something? If I didn’t know better, I’d swear your cock grew several inches last night.”

“Jenny,” I said, pushing her back slightly. “I think you’ve been having some kind of kinky dreams.”

“Dreams?” she asked. “Really?” She pulled her t-shirt up to her chin, exposing her 38D breasts. There was a pronounced red bite mark on her left tit. “Do dreams bite?”

I stared at the mark. What the fuck was that? I hadn’t bitten her breast. I hadn’t even touched her last night. What the fuck was going on.

“You’ve never been so aggressive, baby,” she said. “I kinda like it.” She pulled her shirt back down and winked at me, then turned and pranced across the kitchen. “Have time for a quickie before work? Join me in the shower.”

Who was I to turn down sex with a beautiful woman? I drained my coffee cup and headed upstairs in pursuit of my wife. I was naked before I entered the bathroom, and Jenny was already in the shower. I climbed in next to her. When the water hit my back, I winced in pain. I felt a sharp burning across my back.

“Ow!” I snapped. “What the fuck is that on my back?”

Jenny turned me around so she could see. “Oh, wow!” she said with a whistle. “I must’ve scratched the hell out of you last night when you were fucking me. I guess you’re not the only animal in the house.”

I opened the glass door and stepped out, turning to look in the mirror. A series of three scratches ran from the top of my right hip up to my right shoulder. They seemed almost deep enough to draw blood.

“Come back here!” Jenny moaned. I turned to look, and she had her legs spread and was rapidly fingering her pussy with one hand and rubbing her clit with the other. “I need that cock again.”

I climbed in the shower, closed the door, and shoved my cock into her slick pussy.

Chapter 3

I had a hard time at work. I couldn’t concentrate. Many times I would doze off, and visions of the woman with the flame-red hair would torment me. I’d snap awake, instantly, but the image of her lingered. I was continually daydreaming, thinking about my wife’s behavior, the bite on her breast, and the scratches on my back. I know we hadn’t made the marks, but I had no idea from where they could have come.

I skipped lunch and spent the time to Google my symptoms. Nothing medical came up. The only thing that seemed to match what was happening to me was demonic possession, which was ludicrous. The Internet was no help.

As I pulled into our cul de sac, I noticed a large moving van in front of the house next door. I parked and came through the garage into the kitchen and froze in shock. Sitting at the kitchen table, having tea with my wife was the woman from my dreams. She smiled, and when I looked into her green eyes, I felt an overwhelming feeling of lust swelling up inside me. It was as if she were naked and offering herself to me.

“Chris!” Jenny said, exuberantly, “meet our new neighbor! This is Desdemona.”

I couldn’t speak. I could scarcely breathe. I knew every curve of the woman’s face, the way her lips turned up in the corners and her eyes down, the way her hair flowed around her cheeks and down, over her shoulders. As I stood, staring, in shock, the flame-haired woman stood and walked over to me. She kissed me on each cheek and spoke in a voice I knew intimately. “Hello, Chris,” she said. “Please, call me Mona. Jenny has told me so much about you; I feel as though I already know you.”

I drew a shuddering breath and smelled myrrh and cinnamon.

THE END