Men in cages
I had a dream last night: I was in a room that was full of cages with men locked inside them.
The cages were about waist high, had thick bars. The men inside were crouched down or on all fours.
I walked among them, between the cages. The men were not fully visible in the dream, but dream-me tried hard to make them fit my ideal, which was strange wilfulness on the part of my sleeping subconscious.
Most of them wanted my attention, and when I walked by their cage, they would crowd the bars, not reaching for me through them, but moving around to get as close to me as possible, to watch me, and silently beg me to pay attention to them.
I was nude, though I only know that because when I stopped and leaned over a cage to lie across the top of it, the bars were cold on my bare belly, and gentle fingers and lips touched my naked skin, the man inside reaching up through the bars to kiss and stroke my body, but never grabbing at me.
One man masturbated in his cage as he watched another’s mouth caress my nipples. He managed to look both embarrassed and defiant when I glanced at him.
The men were faceless, largely shapeless, but I felt their desire and need floating at me from all directions. The desperation and arousal in the room was incredibly hot.
I sat on top of one of the cages and felt fingertips and kisses on my arse, a tongue probing gently at me. There was very little sound, which was strange in retrospect.
The dream ended when I manoeuvred myself to lean up against one of the cages, and a man with a talented tongue pushed his face hard up against the bars to get at my pussy. He licked me awkwardly and determinedly, his face one of frustration as he tried to get more of me. He made a soft grunting sound when I shifted position and he thought I was moving away. Then sighed with relief when he realised I wasn’t going anywhere, his face getting bruised as he shoved it against the bars to get more of me.
And then I awoke.