I watched a guy having a wet dream, once. It was when I was in the Army at a training school. We lived in nice barracks, two to a room. The rooms actually had doors for a change. Doors that closed. Doors that people knocked on before coming into the fuckin' room. Doors that allowed a guy to jack off in privacy. That was always my thing. Jacking off. I've done it since I was a kid. I've done it so often I've never had a wet dream. Never. Oh, sometimes my hard-on wakes me up, or keeps me awake. But I pump the pressure out of it and fall asleep. Sometimes it happens in the dead of night, almost like a dream, but I know what I'm doing as I reach down for a sock and keep the sheets clean.

I asked a doctor once if wet dreams were normal and if I should worry 'cause I wasn't having any "currently", I said. Geez, that guy got all flustered and embarrassed and said I could put my clothes back on now that the exam was finished and turned red and left the room - such professional detachment. It had only occurred to me to ask him 'cause he'd been eyeballing my big dick so devoutly I thought he might want to fuck around. I figured talking about wet dreams might be a way to get the ball rolling. Later a doctor I was having an affair with told me that wet dreams are normal. But you'll only have them if you do not find a continual sexual outlet, like masturbation, to blow off the steam that builds up in the system. Well, I had found an outlet, sure enough, and it was jacking off.

As you grow up and get out in the world, you find other outlets as well, like blowjobs and ass-fucking. They can keep you from having wet dreams and they can keep your palm from growing hair. But in those first few months in the army, when we were all fresh-faced kids wondering why we kept throwing these boners at the slightest provocation, my thing was jacking off. Some of the guys around me did look awfully good to eat, but the army didn't let you think about that too much with all the threatening noises it kept making about what terrible punishment it would dole out to someone "caught with another man", which seemed to be about the worst thing they could imagine.

So there I was watching this guy having a wet dream. Jake was his name. He and I played on one of the baseball teams. We had a game scheduled for 4:30 one Saturday afternoon, and he told me he wanted to catch a nap before the game. He asked me if I'd come over to his room at 3:30 to make sure he was up. He didn't have a clock. Now, Jake had a reputation for easy make-out with the local girls. He was tall, good-looking, well built, and dark-haired. The kind of guy you'd meet and think, "Man, I'll bet girls go crazy for him." You know the type, with lots of dark hair all the way up to his navel. Must be masculine and straight as an arrow. I'd never seen him make out with any of the girls, but then he and I didn't really hang out together, except when we played ball.

His door was about a third of the way open. There was lots of sunlight in the room. I saw the bottom end of his bunk, and saw his naked feet. I thought he must be awake, (I don't care how hot it is, I wake up if my feet are uncovered) so I went in without knocking. Can you believe it? I went in without knocking! Three times in my life, people have come into rooms without knocking and found me jacking off. All three times the doors were closed but had no locks on them. So I don't go barging into someone else's room without knocking. But Jake's door was part way opened. I could see that he was lying on the bunk. His feet weren't under the sheet, so I figured he was awake and waiting for me to let him know that it was 3:30. What I saw was amazing.

He was lying on his back sound asleep, his head on a thin pillow, his dark hair framing an exceptionally handsome face in repose, expressionless. His uncovered chest heaved with his steady, deep breathing. He had drawn a corner of the light sheet up between his legs. The tip of the sheet corner rested at about his solar plexus. Both legs were uncovered. Both his arms were uncovered, too, and rested at his sides. I could see that he wasn't wearing any undershorts. In other words, he was nude except for that triangle of sheet he'd pulled up between his legs. The sight took my breath away. I stared longingly at the handsome figure, speechless.

Then, I realized that I had to call him to wake him. Just before I opened my mouth, movement under that scant piece of sheet jarred my attention. He had a hard-on! It was moving the sheet. I watched in fascination as his erection raised and lowered itself above his belly, lifting the sheet as it moved. Its outline was not only perfectly clear, I realized, but sunlight through the window on the other side of the bunk was actually illuminating the sheet so that I saw the erection, the full length of it, as a dark, bulky shadow moving under the flimsy cloth. I could even see an outline of cockhair and his hairy balls. I held my breath. It was like someone had kicked me in the stomach and I couldn't move for the ache I felt in my groin.

The shadow raised itself once again and then stopped, rigid. The sheet was tented above his abdomen, draped over the mammoth tool, which looked to be ten inches long, at least, but I figured the strange illumination was making it appear even larger than it was. But it was large, there was no doubt about that. My mouth went dry. Then, without a sound, suddenly the sheet was pushed outward, away from the head of the giant cock, and became wet. I watched as eight or nine pulses raised and lowered the cock, and each time more fluid jetted out silently to darken the sheet further. He was coming!

During the amazing moments of his orgasm, I kept glancing back up to his face. He was certainly asleep. His expression betrayed no emotion whatever. If he was enjoying the wet dream, it was in his mind alone. The only physical manifestation of the wet dream was his erupting cock. His breathing didn't change. His hands remained at his sides, and his body stayed relaxed.

As semen dampened the sheet, each successive spurt seemed to travel farther. The third or fourth spurt of sperm was forceful enough to squirt out from under the confines of the sheet and ooze onto his chest. It lay there sparkling in the light, a pool of gooey white juice that seemed to freeze me where I stood, spellbound.

"Oh, Jack, there you are," his voice suddenly said, very softly. My eyes were the only things that moved as I looked to his face. He had awakened. Then he said something I'll never forget. In that sleepy, sexy soft voice, he said, "I was just dreamin' about you." I put my hand to my mouth as I sucked in my breath, startled by the admission.

"What's wrong, Jack? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I... I... The door. It was open. I didn't knock." I whispered through my fingers.

He laughed, waking up. "Jesus, is that all. Forget it. I left the door opened so you'd come right in. I was expecting you, remember?" Before I could respond, he reached for the tip of the sheet and tried to throw it off. I caught a glimpse of his beautiful weapon, still stiff, the head gleaming wet, before the weight and sticky slipperiness of all the fresh cum unexpectedly pulled the sheet from his fingers and it fell back.

"Oh!" he said, rather quietly.

"Oh!" I said with him at exactly the same moment, my hand still at my mouth.

"Fuck!" he said, more loudly.

"Oh, shit!" I said, an instant later, still frozen in place. It was one of the strangest moments of my life. Watching him have the wet dream had been fascinating and very stimulating. Seeing him realize that he had had a wet dream, and realize that I could see that he had had a wet dream, was embarrassing but amusing, yet mortifying and fun. You know the feeling. You don't know whether to laugh or to cry. I wished I wasn't there, but wouldn't have traded places at that moment with anyone. I wanted to say something that would make everything all right, but feared that anything I'd say would be held against me. I wanted to run out of the room, but my whole being compelled me to stay in place to see what would happen next.

He started to chuckle. I frowned, my mouth still covered by my hand. He began laughing. It was infectious. I started to grin. Then laugh. He pointed at my hand, and laughed harder. I took my hand away from my mouth, looked at it like I'd never seen it before, and covered my eyes with it, as I laughed as hard as he was laughing, shaking my head. I dropped my hand to my side. We looked at each other and laughed some more. If we hadn't been friends before that moment, we became close friends right then and there.

He took firm hold of the triangle of sheet and tossed it down between his calves. We both stopped laughing. His cock was so stiff that it quivered in the air above his belly, pointed at his face. He looked down at it. So did I. He looked at me. His left hand reached up and grabbed hold of the huge cock. I thought that was a nice gesture, using his left hand like that. Using his right would have blocked some of the view. It occurred to me that he was displaying his erection to me. I couldn't take me eyes from it.

"Christ, it's so hard," he said quietly, still looking at me. "What happened?"

"You had a wet dream."

"Yeah, I know, but why am I still so hard?"

"It just happened, just now. It just happened when I came into the room. I watched as it shot off. I didn't mean to watch, but it just happened while I stood here, just now, before I could call you."

"Wow!" he said softly, running the word out, looking back at his erection. "You watched me come! What did you think? Did you like watching it? Do you like seeing it now? I've never shown my hard-on to a guy, before. What do you think?"

"It's perfect," I said quietly, my mouth gone dry.

"Yeah, it's perfect," he repeated softly, proudly, looking at it. His hand began a noticeable but very slow movement on the thick column. He heard me draw in my breath as I watched. He glanced over at my crotch. He smiled.

"Lock the door!"

It was a command. It wasn't up for discussion. I backed the few steps to the door and closed it with my back to it, my eyes never leaving his cock. I locked it.

"Strip naked!"

The low, masculine voice was sure of itself, demanding, insistent. I began unbuttoning my shirt, my fingers trembling. I tried to hurry. I stripped slowly, trying to be natural about it, self-conscious at one level, but confident in my sexuality and proud of my body. He had seen the outline of my erection as it responded to his virile call. We were doing what we both wanted to do. My boots and socks came off. All I had on were my trousers. I let them fall to the floor. My cock was as stiff as his was and stood defiantly in front of me. His eyes half-closed as he watched it standing there quivering in anticipation. His hand moved more obviously on his stiff meat, giving measure to the length of it in its journey from the very tip to the bulbous base, covering the long way with firm strokes. I watched the journey with awe. He had the most incredible cock I'd ever seen. It was long, but gave the impression of being wide, thick across, with an enormous head of fat, curved flaring, almost separate halves, that looked expanded beyond endurance. Dark skin slid smoothly in his muscular grip.

"Beat that meat!"

I grabbed hold and began a manipulation of my cock that matched his own movement. Slow, deliberate, caressing and full. Tip to base, up and down, up and down, up and down.

"Come here!"

I stood above him, inches from his elbow, at mid-body, my balls about a foot above his right arm, my cock and pumping hand about even with the tip of his cock. We increased the speed on our cocks, matching one another. He continued his left-handed jack off, and his right hand slowly rose from the bed. I gasped as his fingers encircled my balls gently but firmly, stroking them, tugging on them. His grip tightened. He pulled downward. I squatted next to the bed. Our tempo increased, but then he shifted his hips and turned his body slightly towards me, offering cock to me.

"Suck it!"

It was his first whispered command, but it was much more insistent than the others were. I looked into his eyes and he smiled in a strange way. He was very aroused. His expression was one of longing, of pleading, of hoping, not of demanding. He wanted me to want to take him. I licked my dry lips. His eyes opened wide. I leaned toward the massive cockhead and licked at it with a moist tongue. I could taste the sperm on it from the wet dream, as I smelled the musk odor of the sperm on his stomach. I sucked on the cum-slit and got an abundance of hot liquid. I lashed my tongue around the contours of the fat head and sucked the entire glans into my mouth, exerting as much pressure as I dared. He pumped his hips to meet my suctioning mouth. Part of the shaft slid in. It was extremely broad, almost too thick, I thought. But it tasted so good, and I was so excited, that I pushed till it penetrated into my throat. I backed up and pushed forward several times, each time getting more of the cock.

"Get on the bed!"

He put his hand on my head so that contact wouldn't be broken between my mouth and his dick. His hand guided my movement onto the bed until I knelt between his legs, one shin resting in the squishy residue of the wet dream. Then his hand pushed downward with great strength until the giant shaft was fully into my gullet. He started caressing my head as I began bobbing up and down the solid tube. His hips pumped cock into me as my hand continued beating my own cock.


At first, I thought he was telling me that he was coming. Then I realized he was telling me he was about to come but he was also commanding that I come with him. I didn't think I could come on demand, but my body doesn't always listen to my mind. My body tensed, my hand stopped at the base of my cock and I had an overwhelming orgasm that began with spurts of hot viscous liquid in response to his command. The first spurts hit his balls. He moved his right hand to his testicles, felt my cum and tensed his entire body, as cum was erupting into my throat so quickly I hardly had time to swallow. We both kept shooting for the longest time, until we were drained. I took every drop he offered, and his hand caught every drop of mine.

Reluctantly, I let the big organ slip out of my mouth and I settled back on my haunches. I grinned. He grinned back, licked up most of my cum in his hand, and whispered, "Some wet dream!"

I went four for four that afternoon, and Jake knocked one over the wall in the top of the ninth.


Jack Sofelot


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