Patricia: The Dream Series
Author's Note: The following narrative describes events which took place in a dream. Any similarity to real-world events or persons is coincidental.

Dream Number 2

	The day after my first Patricia dream I was at the office when I recalled that some years before I'd studied a technique called "Lucid Dreaming," the object of which is to (a) know that you're dreaming when you're dreaming, and (b) to "steer" your dream, since it's a dream and you know it's a dream, and you're in control. I jotted down many notes on a legal pad. I was determined to try this technique. My first dream encounter with Patricia had been wonderful, but she'd pretty much called the shots. Now I wanted to be in control-I wanted to control Patricia-and I was willing to use any means to achieve my end. When I got home that evening I reviewed my notes, prepared myself as best I could, and retired for the night.
	I found myself in a forest, treading a spongy carpet of fallen leaves, breathing in the piney aromas and listening to the tiny twittering birds that flitted about high in the treetops. I said to myself, "This is a dream, I am in control, and I command Patricia to appear." I walked on through the forest. Maybe it doesn't work immediately, I thought. Or maybe this isn't a dream. I continued on. Suddenly she emerged, from a clump of trees, Patricia, wearing her long green V-neck mohair sweater and nothing else-no belt, no panties. After a brief hello I pushed her up against a tree trunk, unzipped my fly, took my rigid cock out and began fucking it upward into the fuzzy nap of her green mohair sweater. "I want to fuck you tonight in your sweater," I told her. "Now let's find someplace where we can be alone. Incidentally," I added, "I'm sorry I spilled on your sweater the other night. Hope I didn't ruin it."
	We walked, arms intertwined, along the forest path and presently we came to a little cottage nestled in the towering pines. 
	"Is this where you live?"
	"No, I come here sometimes to meditate, or just to be alone." 
	We entered the cottage and Patricia showed me the kitchen, the bed, the massage table, the bathroom and so on. She stood in front of a closet door with her hand on the doorknob.
	"This is where I keep my sweaters."
Patricia opened the door of the closet, revealing shelves and shelves stacked high with folded sweaters of every variety.
	"These are my sweaters," she said. "If you want me to try them on for you, one at a time, and if you want to fuck me in every one of my sweaters, that's fine. I want to be your sweatergirl." 
	"Maybe later," I said. "Right now, I've got other plans for you."
	"What do you mean?"
	"Lie down on the bed," I ordered. "Do it now."
	Patricia obediently stretched out on the bed, demurely pulling the ribbed hem of her green sweater down over her black strip of woolly pussy fur. I shucked off my clothes and  jumped onto the bed, naked. I quickly straddled Patricia's body and poked my itching cock between her mohair-sweatered tits. 
"What are you going to do?" 
"I'm going to fuck your tits."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Take hold of your tits and wrap them aound my cock and let me fuck between them."
Patricia dutifully grasped her sweatered titties and wrapped them around my tingling prick.
"Fuck my ta-ta's!" she squealed. "Fuck my tits and cum on my tits!"
I fucked my cock upward into the heavenly softness of Patricia's mohair sweater, delving into the furry valley between her warm breasts until my bursting cock went off like a rocket. I sprayed her chin and lips and nose and eyelashes with hot cum wads that seemed to spurt up from my spleen. Then I pulled back and let the rest of my load spool leisurely out all over Patricia's sweatered tits.
"That was beautiful," she murmured. "You fucked your cum-load right into my titties. I loved every minute of it." She pulled her cum-drenched sweater off and stood naked in front of me. "Do you want me to put on another sweater?"
"Yes," I ordered. "The brown turtleneck. And make it snappy!"
"I'll put this in the dirty laundry," she said, holding up her dripping sweater.
"No," I said sternly. "Spread it out on the bed. I want to look at it. I want to see my cum on your sweater." 
Moments later Patricia returned, wearing her brown turtleneck sweater as I had prescribed. She took my hand and led me toward the bed. But I had another idea. "Get up on that massage table, girl," I said. "I'm going to kiss your woolly pussy."
"Oh, my God! That's exactly what I want. I want you to suck my pussy. If you do it, I'll go mad!"
Patricia climbed up on the massage table and spread her legs, exposing her woolly pussy fur and the pink honey-cleft in the center of that gorgeous fur-circle. I pressed a console button on the side of the massage table which raised the table to the level of my lips. Next, I draped Patricia's legs over my shoulders and fastened my mouth to her crack, not forgetting to pull her sweater down over her fur-mound so that my nose was buried in the feathery softness of her sweater as I licked and sucked at the warm, cleaving folds of her cunt.
As the moments passed and I brought Patricia closer and closer to orgasm with the intricate acrobatics of my tongue, she moaned with delight and fucked her wet snatch upward into my face. I reached up and pinched her rigid nipples through the weave of her sweater.
"Suck my pussy," she gasped, lashing her head from side to side, her body undulating like an anaconda. "Suck my pussy!"
I poked my tongue deep into Patricia's sweet tight fuck-hole and drank everything that flowed out of her. I caught her clit between my tongue and the roof of my mouth and rolled it around while she went mad with ecstasy. 
When it was over she said: "You sure got me off, Baby. What do you want me to do? I'll do anything you ask."
I ordered Patricia to kneel down on the floor at my feet. She quickly knelt as ordered and looked up at me wide-eyed, awaiting further instructions.
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to fuck your mouth."
Patricia obligingly opened her mouth and took my cock deep into her throat, all the while gazing up at me in an attitude of absolute adoration, as if I had become a god. She wrapped her sweatered arms around my midsection and began to glide her warm, sucking mouth up and down my rigid pole. My balls were resting against the fuzzy neck of her turtleneck sweater and my hands were cupping her wonderfully sweatered mohair tits. After a few moments I wrapped my fingers in her hair and rudely pulled her head into my groin.
"Come on, Patricia! You've had a man's cock in your mouth before. You know what to do, baby. Go ahead, lick it up and down. That's the way, Love. Use your tongue. Oh, baby-doll, you're cunt right up to the eyes. I knew it the minute I saw you. You love to fuck, don't you? And you love to suck cock, you sweet little cum-drinker!"
I fucked Patricia's face mercilessly, driving my swollen cock deep into her throat. I knew I was suffocating her but I didn't care. The thought that I was now possessing Patricia, that Patricia was now mine, caused me to erupt in her mouth. I felt myself cumming; I knew I couldn't delay it. I felt my consciousness blurring deliciously as I began pumping sperm into Patricia's throat. She choked and gagged, her eyes wide and frightened. I persisted; I declined to withdraw my spurting cock from her mouth. Let her choke on it! Patricia's cheeks bulged and twin jets of spunk squirted out of her nostrils and dribbled down the front of her sweater.
When I'd finished cumming, I yanked my shrinking dick out of Patricia's mouth and squeezed my last drops of spunk out on the ribbed neck, once turned down, of her turtleneck sweater.
"Take your sweater off and put it on the bed with the other one. I want to see my trophies side by side."
Patricia did as I requested and returned, naked: "Do you want me to put on one of my other sweaters?" 
"Yes. The white cardigan. Button it all the way up. And put on the blue and white legwarmers. And pull them all the way up to your crotch, up to your wooly pussy. Understood?"
Patricia vanished and returned, perfectly attired. "What do you want me to do?"
"Patricia, you're going to get me hard again, and then I'm going to fuck your woolly pussy."
We stretched out on the massage table. "I want you to tell me a story," I said. "While you play with my cock. Tell me something that'll get me hot. Can you do it?"
"I'll try," Patricia answered, clasping my soft cock with both hands. "Well, okay, one time I was working in this office, as a secretary, and I reported to the CEO, but there was this other guy, the Director of Marketing, and he was real nice looking although he was a little older... Anyhow, this guy, Paul was his name, he used to stare and stare at me whenever I wore a mohair sweater. And I began to think, maybe this guy has a thing for mohair sweaters. Well, things went along, and then I began to notice that my cardigan sweater, which I kept draped over the back of my chair-it's white, mohair, the one I'm wearing, in fact-seemed to have "changed positions" when I came back from lunch. And one afternoon I found a black pubic hair on my sweater. And I put two and two together. 'This guy has a thing for my sweater.' And I resolved to get even with this guy, who had managed to make love to my sweater, but not to me."
Patricia paused and kissed me passionately. "Do you want me to suck your cock?"
"Not right now. Just play with it. And go on with your story. I'm interested."
"Okay, so one day instead of going to lunch at my usual time, I hid out in the girls' bathroom, then went back to my desk. My sweater was missing from my chair! I went to Paul's office. His door was shut. Well, now I was pretty sure about what was going on. But I had to be certain. So the next day, as it got toward lunch hour, I waited until Paul went out to the restroom, and I hid in a closet inside his office. I left the door open just a crack so I could see. Sure enough, here comes Paul with my white mohair cardigan sweater. He sits down in front of his desk, takes his cock out and begins masturbating with my sweater. As I said, he's a real hot guy, and he had a beautiful cock. The moment I saw Paul's dick,  I had just one thought in my mind: 'I've got to get my mouth on that cock or I'll go mad!'
"I got my courage up and I stepped out of the closet. Paul turned white as a ghost. 
'Patricia! What are you doing here? My God, this could mean my job! I'll do anything. Please! Tell me what you want...'  
 "I want a raise," I said. "And I want a bonus, a big bonus. And a nice little vacation in Hawaii."
'You got it!'
"There's one more thing."
'What is it? Tell me! You'll get it. Anything you want!'
"You're going to let me suck your cock."
"Without waiting for an answer, I got down on all fours and crept under Paul's desk. I took his big horny cock into my mouth and sucked it to orgasm. I swallowed every drop of his sweet fuck-cream because I didn't want anything to dribble on the brown mohair turtleneck sweater I was wearing, thus letting all the gossips in the office know what I'd been doing. After I'd sucked the last long strand of cum up from his balls and gulped it down, I kissed Paul's shrinking cock again and again and rubbed it all over my smiling face. I wiped Paul's cock off with the sleeve of my white mohair cardigan and tucked his pecker back into his fly.
"After that I sucked Paul's cock on an average of about once a week, always crouched under his desk, out of sight, while he was on the phone to Milan, Munich and Paris, and sometimes even with his office door open, and always I was wearing a mohair sweater. And I always drank his cum.
"One day when Paul had an important meeting with two associate Marketing Directors from Japan and Germany, I hid myself away under the table in the Conference Room and waited for the guys to sit down. After they sat down, and they started to talk about all the inside stuff, juggling huge fortunes and deciding the fate of the company, and all  that, I unzipped each man's fly in turn, took his cock out and gave it a good sperm-sucking. I did this several times during the discussion, which lasted for about five hours, and I swallowed every delicious drop of spunk that the men's wonderful fat cocks pumped into my throat."
Patricia fell silent. Her supple fingers continued to tease my stiff cock. I was ready to burst. "I loved your story, Patricia. It made me hot."
I ordered Patricia to stretch out on the massage table and get her legs up in the air. I pressed the massage table console button which brought the table up to the exact level of my throbbing dick. I draped Patricia's legwarmered legs over my shoulders and wrapped them around my neck. I pressed the head of my cock against her squirmy pink pussy lips, then, standing firm on my feet, I shoved it up her. I felt my cock slide into Patricia's slick tight puss, all the way up to the neck of her uterus. And she started gibbering like a madwoman.
"Oh, Baby, fuck me! Please, fuck me! Fuck me full of cream! I love your sweet cock! I want to drink your fuck-cream! Cum all over me, Honey! Oh, Baby, give it to me! Fuck me! Fuck me all night!"
I fucked Patricia's woolly pussy for over an hour, penetrating Patricia deeply, sometimes scuttling her almost off the table. Then I felt myself cumming. I couldn't prevent it. I was going to burst. At the last possible instant I pulled out and sprayed my fuck-cream all over Patricia's smiling face and on her white sweater. I grabbed my cock at the base and swung it at Patricia like a billyclub. I aimed my spurting cock so that it squirted first on her face, then on her sweater, then on her black pussy wool, then on her sweater once again, and so on. In the midst of my machinations, Patricia raised herself up on her elbow. 
"I've got to get my mouth on your cock!"
Patricia grabbed my drooling cock, poked it into her mouth, and sucked the marrow out of it.
End of Dream Number 2