Good morning, everybody.
I was sitting out in some kind of plaza area at night. I sat on the ground, possibly leaning my back against the seat of a bench. My sister may have been there, too. We had some stuff with us: a couple of bikes and some other personal belongings.
A little boy and an older man came and sat down by us. The little boy had olive skin and dark black, straight hair. He wore tiny, tan, corduroy shorts and a little, white t-shirt that made him look a little bit like a girl. The little boy was attracted to me. Even though he didn't know me, he came down and sat on my lap. He sat right so his bottom was on my crotch, and he kept bouncing up and down.
The little boy eventually transformed into a Latino young man who was dressed up as a girl. He was dressed in a frilly, lingerie-esque black tank top with red, lacy fringes and a pair of really short, denim shorts. His hair was black, with streaks of pale brown dyed in, and done up in loose ringlets. He also seemed to have big breasts.
I had actually had an orgasm at some point in time because of the bouncing up and down. So the Latino young man figured I was attracted to him. He told me he'd give me his phone number. I wasn't wearing any shoes. The young man wrote his phone number on my right foot, starting at the joint where the big toe meets the foot and going all the way down past my ankle, an inch or two up my leg.
The young man wrote the number in red and black. The boy's handwriting looked very much like graffiti. The boy would write the red part first, then do a little outline in black to made it look like a shadow. I looked at the boy's pen. It was just one pen, with one tip, and no switching buttons. But it was putting out red ink or black ink, whenever the boy wanted. I told the boy, "You have really good handwriting."
The young man finished and stood up. I suddenly realized that he and the older man were together. The older man hadn't noticed the boy having sat down on me and rubbed against me until I came. And he didn't seem to think anything of the boy having given me his phone number. The older man just thought the young man was only in love with him. The two of them got on either a motorcycle or a bicycle and rode away.
My sister was either already gone or had left just now, telling me she'd meet me wherever she was going. I now felt like I'd been sitting around here way too long. I needed to get to wherever my sister was!
So I stood up, turned to my left, and walked along the concrete or cobblestone path along which ran the bench that I'd been sitting against. It was a pleasant evening, and there were a lot of people out. Suddenly reflecting on the people all walking around here, I knew I had to sit back down! I'd just come. Would the wetness of my cum be visible on my clothes?
I looked down. I was wearing some hideous, fluorescent yellow shorts. The fabric was really thin, and, just as I had suspected, the wetness of my cum had soaked through. I covered myself up. There was one spot I first noticed as I'd looked, kind of right on the front and center of my shorts, a couple inches below the waist line. I tried to wipe it off and dry it off.
I think I managed to get the spot to a point where I felt it was tolerably unnoticeable. But now I noticed another mess! This one was coming out of my right pocket. It seemed like almost all my cum had flowed into my right pocket. It was clear and goopy and gross. But it wasn't white. It was clear. And it was cold, not hot.
I didn't think I'd be able to stand up for a long time. But out of the crowd came a kind of prissy-looking old man, carting a clothes rack full of either women's outerwear or women's lingerie. The styles seemed kind of stale, something very much like what I thought the prissy, old man would like. But the man stopped at me and said, "You! Get up! You haven't done everything you were supposed to do with these clothes yet!"
I had a feeling I'd done something, either messing up the clothes or committing to buying them and then breaking my commitment, that had basically made the responsibility for the clothes all mine. Even if they stayed in the prissy man's store, I still had to take care of them. So, regardless of my fear of being seen in my cum-stained shorts, I stood up and went to the clothes rack.
Slowly other elements of a shop were dragged out into the crowd, I'm not sure by whom. There were glass display cases of items and items on pedestals. The interior of an antique store had basically been drawn out onto this walkway!
A second old man now came up to me. He had a few antiques, some of which looked like music boxes. But one antique which drew my attention was a sphere-shaped object. The man let me look at it. Most of its surface was some deep, polished color, like a deep blue or brown. On some part of its surface was a little clock face. The middle of the orb and the boundary of the clock were ringed with gold. The middle of the orb may actually have been hinged, so it could open, like an Easter egg.
As I was inspecting the object, the old man was talking about the store. The way he was talking about things, it sounded like the prissy man had talked the old man into being a part of this store, almost against the old man's wishes. It sounded like it was a little bit of a pain to work with the prissy man, simply because the man's prissiness sometimes got to be a real bore.
I dropped the orb. It almost crashed to the ground. But I flinched a few times, and all my flinches were luckily positioned so that I kept almost catching the orb, until I finally caught the orb. But now, when I looked at the orb, it may have had a surface of gold and crystal, with the clock face inside the crystal portion of the egg, tilted at about a 30-degree angle.
The old man suggested I give the orb back to him. The orb was pretty expensive, and the man didn't want me holding onto it if I was going to be so clumsy with it. But he wasn't mad at me. In fact, it seemed to open the old man up to telling me a bit more of his story. As the old man told me the story, the store materialized around us. We were in one room full of antiques. In another room was a perfume counter and more antiques. The prissy man may have been working at the perfume counter.
The old man said how he, like a couple other old men, had owned their own stores. All the old men's stores specialized in certain kinds of antiques. The old man's particular store may have specialized in antique clocks or antique perfumes -- or both! But the old man, like a couple of his friends, was discovering that the specialty antique shops were no longer able to survive on their own.
The old man and his wife (who may have appeared somewhere in the shop) had to sell their shop. Some of their friends had to sell their shops, too. But the prissy man suggested to the old man (and, possibly, to other old men) that the old man let the prissy man sell the old man's antiques in his shop. The prissy man's shop was bigger and more comprehensive.
The old man said, "Yeah, it's hard for antique shops of any kind to survive anymore. In this town, all up and down along this road, you'd see tons of antique shops. Now they're all closing up, one by one. Nobody visits them anymore. That's why it's lucky I'm working with him." (The prissy man.) "His store isn't an antique shop. And it has so many different kinds of things, people will always be coming to the shop."
But when I looked around the shop, all I could see were antiques. I thought, This place must be an antique shop! And it must be doomed, just like all the other antique shops! My vision focused on some people lifting up a painting from behind some massive, golden posts. The painting was tall and wide. It was on some thin, stiff board. It seemed to be an early evening lake scene, done in pale blues and tans.
I now noticed that all around that area were golden objects. There may even have been a statue of a standing Pharaoh, his headdress, skirt, beard, and staff all done in gold, or painted gold, and his body done in black stone.
I was out in the wilderness with my sister on a hot, clear day. We stood on some ridge where we could see out over an expanse of green, but dry and craggy, slopes. My sister had to go do something. She walked away behind me.
I think I knew that I'd eventually have to turn around and head to wherever my sister had gone as well. But I think I was also hoping my sister would come back. Out here in the wilderness all alone, I felt unprotected, scared.
The slope before me was now all made of plowed-up soil. It was like a construction crew was coming through this wilderness, turning it up to make some new development. The slope now lipped up before me, so that it crested above my head. I had to climb up it to see beyond it. But when I climbed up it, I decided to walk down the other side. I think I was hoping I could walk out of all this plowed-up area and into some pristine wilderness.
At the bottom of the plowed-up slope was a dirt road. Across the dirt road was another plowed-up slope. I knew that beyond that slope there would be pristine wilderness. But now I looked to my right, up the dirt road. In the distance maybe four hundred meters was a wild animal. It looked like a coyote, but I thought (or hoped) it could be a bobcat. It had been trotting lightly across the road. But now it stopped and looked at me.
I didn't really want to go any farther in the wilderness. I'd never had any trouble with coyotes, or any wild animal, really, in the past. But I had a weird feeling that this summer, because of the heat (or drought?), the wild animals were really hungry, and that they'd even try to eat humans. I didn't want to be out here alone and defenseless against a hungry animal. So I turned around and headed back up the slope.
Now the slope was extremely steep. I didn't know whether I'd be able to make it back up the slope. But, surprisingly, I was actually bounding up the slope. I would jump upward from one foothold to another. It didn't even seem to cause me any effort. It was kind of fun!
This whole time I thought that I needed to keep the idea of fear out of my head. If a wild animal sensed fear, it would attack me. I thought that perhaps the coyote/bobcat would see my jumping and think I was too hard to catch, not worth its time. But then I thought that maybe the motion of my jumping would be so tantalizing that the coyote/bobcat would find me a very appetizing meal indeed.
But I soon reached the top of the slope. I hopped over the lip of the slope, thinking that I must have gotten up and out of sight before the coyote/bobcat could see me. But now I saw the coyote/bobcat stalking across the opposite slope. The crest of the opposite slope was now very close to the crest of this slope. I could plainly see the animal, which was a coyote. And the coyote could plainly see me.
The coyote jumped from its crest to my crest. But when it reached me, it just slowly passed me, looking me over, trying to determine whether I was an enemy or a friend, but then just becoming seemingly indifferent towards me and stalking away to my right and behind me. I was still afraid. Since the coyote was behind me, did that mean it was just playing a game on me, and that it would soon attack me from behind?
But now I saw a second animal on the opposite slope. This time the animal was a bobcat! But the bobcat's face looked a little weird, like it was real, but like its real (not drawn) features had been scribbled into existence by a little child's crayon drawings.
The bobcat didn't even wait to climb to the crest. It hopped from mid-slope to mid-slope, then climbed up and over the crest. When it got to me, it bared its teeth and made some kind of hissing sound. Its teeth seemed like needles to me. The bobcat then stalked off to my left and behind me.
I now felt like I was in too much danger out here by myself. I turned around to go back to wherever I'd come from. I was now slouch-laying sideways in a huge, padded chair in a big house like a luxury cabin in the woods. The living room was huge, calm, and filled with natural light. At the other end of the living room two girls sat in either one or two big chairs. One girl seemed to be about nine years old. The other girl seemed to be about twelve.
The nine-year-old girl hopped out of her chair and walked toward me. She was really skinny and wore slim blue jeans and a slinky, striped, long-sleeved shirt. She was pale, and she had long, stringy, pale brown hair. She hopped up onto my chair and flopped down, laying on top of me. We were now covered in a blanket. I ran my hands along the girl's sides and hips.
The little girl was now gone, or possibly standing off to the side and somewhere behind me. The twelve-year-old girl stood up and seemed to be coming toward me, even though I was kind of wishing the nine-year-old girl would come back. The twelve-year-old girl wore tiny, white shorts, a tiny, white t-shirt, and a white baseball cap, which was backwards. She was a bit more plump than the younger girl.. She had a tan, and her chestnut-brown hair was just a little shorter than shoulder-length.
But before the girl even reached me, another young girl sat down beside me in my chair. At my feet there was now another chair adjacent to and at right angles with my chair. Both chairs were less puffy and just a little smaller than my previous chair had been, and both were upholstered with some rough kind of yarny, tan, dark blue, and pale blue fabric.
We were no longer in the living room. We were now in a gigantic cafe. The cafe may have been a Starbucks. But it was out in the woods and it was done up like a ski lodge. There were a lot of people in the cafe. But everything was so well spaced that nobody seemed to be getting into anybody else's space.
The little girl (or boy?) who'd sat down next to me really wanted to be close to me and cuddle with me. But the guy who'd sat down in the other seat made both the girl (or boy) and myself afraid to do anything. I'm not sure what the guy's relationship was to the child. The guy was tall, young-looking, and pale, with blue eyes and a little bit of stubble on his cheeks.
The guy began talking to me, like he was trying to be cool and friendly with me. He had a bit of an athletic tone to his voice, which made me feel like he was being genuine. I didn't know how to put that same athletic tone of voice into my own speech. But I tried to talk like I was cool with the guy as well. But I didn't like the guy very much, and I kind of thought it was an inconvenience to have to deal with him.
The guy then mentioned that my mom was coming soon with all the food. I must have been a little surprised by this. The guy said, "What? Didn't you know your mom was here as well? I met her in line. She told me to sit with you. She and the others would be here soon."
I sat up straight in my chair. I don't know where the child had gone. I saw that there were two additional chairs. The chairs were all arranged around a little white cube which would serve as our table. Now my mom came up and sat in a chair. The others, probably a couple of my nephews, would be showing up soon.
Now a waiter, like a stereotypical thin-mustached, French waiter, wheeled out a huge, shelved, steel cart of desserts and drinks. All the food had some kind of mango-flavored theme to it. The waiter sat item after item of mango desserts and drinks onto the white cube.
In particular I remember seeing mango-flavored pies, and some weird mango smoothie-like item in a clear glass. The mango smoothie was all clumpy, so that the gunk in the glass wasn't evenly distributed. In the empty spaces I could see some green, ropy material, like a snake mixed with a green bean, coiling upward.