#wet dreams
If you had to write an owner’s manual for Jr. High students about their bodies, puberty, and reproductive equipment what would be included?
Rise as the nightly scourge of a sanguine
people—Illusive as a ghostly stroke
across one’s cheek. Not a spring-heeled villain;
be that other sort of pestilence—smoke
smitten, unfettered, the Azalea Crypt
of quick caresses that makes flesh quiver.
I think of the moon bent; how cum once dripped
from your smile. A conked smile that grows fainter
in my mind as all memories grow faint
when you’re no longer haunted by a bent
figure pressed to the window. I know why
you’re gone. A scourge would need to be a saint
to slake my passions. For nightmares hellbent
on wet dreams I am where they go to die.
I dreamed of finding myself in her position way too many times in my youth.
As you can imagine, such thoughts were deeply unsettling for a boy to experience, and just as unsettling, was how I knew that there would come to be a time, where I would feel somewhat differently about them. Dare say it…… even wish that they happened more frequently……
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Without question, the most frightening my boyhood nightmares, weren’t actually nightmares at all. Being the ones which were deeply homoerotic. The shocking sight of myself effeminately among scantily clad, muscular specimens. Without words, she was saying,
“Whats the problem, don’t you want to play with the boys? Scared you might be……
…………. turned on?”
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So personifying the dreams of a young fairy in denial. Finding himself being enveloped entirely by his emerging effeminacy, making it all the more hopeless trying to run away from his ultimate homosexuality
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Reminiscent of so many boyhood dreams that caused me such anxiety and confusion. Not to mention countless bed sheets drenched in orgasms…..
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I spent a great deal of childhood dreams as Alice, wandering through Wonderland. If it wasn’t disconcerting and confusing enough for a boy, to fall asleep and find himself, yet again, in that dress, it was made all the worse by the nature of my increasing encounters with the male habitants of Wonderland……
I recall overhearing my father complaining to my mother, that I had an unhealthy obsession with Alice (not to mention countless other princesses and Disney heroines that he didn’t know of), and that it would “mess me up”, because the animation was “for girls”. My mother of course dismissed his worries, and things carried on as usual. To imagine if my father knew of the effect these things really were having on me…. on my dreams…..
Also, how that early, innocent homoeroticism, foreshadowed dreams of that nature, which couldn’t have been further from “innocent”…….
As a sensitive boy subject to the misfortune of hormonal issues, developing a physique more like the girls my age, it was during the family holiday that I had never been so uncomfortable as when wearing a tiny bikini for the first time.The stares from the men, imagining the shameful things they wanted to do to me…. to my pert little behind… It would all be nothing compared to how devastating it was, dreaming every night of these unspeakable things….. unable to deny how I so wanted it….
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Homoerotic HEAVEN!
Seeing things like this as a young boy, was deeply unsettling and induced countless dreams that scared me.
…. A boy, seeing himself, made up glamorously, with long beautiful hair, designer evening gowns and sexy high heels, in situation that had overt sexual overtones. Surrounded by scantily clad, muscular specimens, that I so didn’t want to admit to myself, were devastatingly sexy.
Confessions of a shy,sensitive schoolboy,
I had a very active imagination in my boyhood, and frequently had wet dreams. But they were never anything like the other boys dreams…..
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Something all boys who worry about everyone at school finding out that they are a fairy, can relate to.
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Reminiscent of boyhood summers at the swimming pool, and the frequent muscular males that made me so uncomfortable. The dreams which these men induced terrified me. Being surrounded by their chisled physiques, pressing up against my thin delicate body. Eventually so overwhelmed, that my hands and lips would take on a life of their own, animalistically exploring their abs. Just as I begin to peel off one of the hunks underwear, terrified, I am awakened by the damp of my member pulsing ecstasy into my bed sheets.
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Watch from 2:50
Likes many boys, I grew up with an obsession and many recurring nightmares over UFO abductions. These dreams deeply disturbed and confused me…. but not for the reason that you would expect of a boy.
My formative boyhood years were spent watching my mothers favourite movies. You could say that they were never the most appropriate for a impressionable, vulnerable young boy like myself. Romantic narratives which compelled the viewer to identify with a love struck female. As a result, some of my very first wet dreams, were where I would find myself being passionately kissed by overwhelmingly strong, handsome men, and the pleasures that accompanied these experiences, were profoundly disturbing and confusing.
Join the Masochistic Emasculation Fetish reddit group and the Effeminacy & Faggotry reddit group!
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I never dreamt like any of the other boys. Where they where off defeating the latest scheming villain and saving the babe, I would routinely be appalled to find myself dancing with prince charming, before struggling to get home before the stroke of midnight, or even worse, find myself subject to the antics of my companions on the way to the emerald city, who always seemed to find a reason to reveal what was up my skirt. The worst was watching myself, as they did things to me, inside of me. How I saw myself overcome with pleasure, coming to welcome and hungrily taking everything that they were offering….
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I only ever once experienced being in a boxing club in my boyhood. However brief it was, a small chat my mother had with a manager she knew, it was none the less, one of the most distinctly uncomfortable moments in my childhood. Intimidated by all the big, macho, muscular men. Never had I felt so out of place. Never had I felt like such a fairy. And then there was the dreams that this experience influenced, seeing myself at the boxing club, dressed like the fairy I felt I was. Of such homoeroticism, drenching my bed sheets, that it was so devastating to my young, vulnerable psyche.
