Ocean Man

Have you ever had a dream come true? Was it everything you thought it would be?

I remember the day I got my first full-time job, I went home to the one-room apartment that my dad had arranged for me to get in Tokyo, and collapsed into bed with such force that I bounced twice before I finally settled down. I had managed to undress, but I didn't even have the energy to get under the blankets, so I just used my hands to squish the blanket up against my thigh enough to partially cover me. I had goosebumps because of the air conditioning vent that was blowing over me.

The apartment was extremely small, and had very little going for it, but it was mine. It was mine and it had a window. The whole east wall of the room was taken up by the window, partially because the room was tiny, but also because the window was big. At least it seemed big to me then, with the lingering rays of the sun bouncing off it just enough to make the white walls glow subtly pink, and to give even the shadows a comforting dull blue hue.

My job sucked. I was working for my dad, of course, and I should be endlessly grateful to him that I wasn't destitute, but even all the nepotism in the world couldn't make his old-school Japanese company's men think of me as anything less than a girl. And a girl without anything special going for her, at that. As for me, all I could think about was the ocean. I drifted off to sleep.

That's when it started. I don't know what got me so worked up about the ocean that night, but ever since I've had this recurring dream, you see, of being enveloped by tall dark waves and sinking like a stone to a sandy ocean floor, where my feet caught the sand slightly faster than my butt did. I was sliding down a slope for a few mortifying seconds, before my feet caught a foothold and left me teetering over an abyss where the sand turned to rock and then to unthinkable nothing. For some reason in the dream I am always captured by the vision of the moonlight rippling on waves above me, casting scattered light down into the abyss, strong enough to illuminate my hands and make the pale light of my skin contrasted next to the deep dark into something equally frightening and alluring. I twist my hands with palms facing toward me, then away, and ponder, and I am too enchanted to be afraid, for a moment.

But the moment doesn't last, and inevitably I start freaking out. My heart pounds, I start kicking and trying to swim back to the surface, but the pressure is too great, or I am too weak, and I can't make it on my own. Fortunately a man appears, right when I need him - perhaps this is a typical female dream, I don't know - and his strong hand wraps around my tiny wrist and gives me a relieving tug towards him. There's a moment when I catch sight of a glow-in-the-dark necklace that levitates in the water in front of his chest, and it lights up his handsome face with green, and I can see the locks of his hair floating up above him mystically, and I am once again too enchanted to be afraid.

He pulls me towards him again, our bodies clash, and with a few easy kicks he brings me back to the surface, where I gasp and cling to him, and he carries me up to shore. I can feel his powerful biceps and abs tighten as he lifts me. I know he'll be my first and my last. It's all very cliché.

Of course, then I wake up. Over the years I've masturbated to thoughts of this dream-man many times, usually immediately after the dream.

So imagine my surprise when I found myself an eerily similar situation, but with a markedly different kind of outcome. It started when I was invited to an old rich man's beach house for a party, I won't get into the details but it was strange to be asked to dress up and also bring a swim suit. The dress provided for me to wear seemed like overkill to me, it was a single piece dress that looked like two pieces, a low cut and strapless deep maroon top, and a free-flowing black skirt, with the two 'pieces' bound together by a red and white sash in the middle, snug against my hips. It's hard to explain, but I felt more naked in that dress than I did in my bathing suit. Maybe because I hadn't chosen it myself.

The party was boring, with lots of old men desperately pretending not to notice my cleavage or exposed thighs. I'm quite thin but that kind of dress makes even me look voluptuous. Fortunately, the house was built close to the coast, and after dutifully saying hello to all the important people my father needed me to, I escaped to the beach. Changing into my swim wear in what was clearly a full, gender-split, indoor sauna was surreal. The few other girls there didn't even make eye contact with me, they just got dressed and left without a word. Soon I was making my way down a path made of artfully misshapen rocks beside a meticulously tended garden and hedge, towards the beach, under the full moon. I was so happy I began to skip just a little, but stopped when I realized other people were around.

There was a large bon fire set up on the beach, and some clearly very drunk people near it. I was raised in America, and for some reason that situation felt very American to me, so I wasn't surprised to find that most of the people near the water were white. I figured the business must be wooing the Japanese investors differently than they would woo the American ones.

I didn't really want to be around them, or anyone, I just wanted to indulge my strange long-term desire for an underwater adventure at night. I avoided the fire, though some people tried to wave me over, and just waded out into the water. Unlike my dream, it was freezing cold. The frothy waves crashed around my thighs and made me shiver, but I was determined and plodded forward. The moon was bright, but the water was still so dark that I couldn't see my feet or the sand below. I crept forward uneasily, feeling my way slowly so that I wouldn't step into the abyss that I just knew must be there, somewhere.

I kept wading out until the waves crashed against my shoulders, and then I dunked my head below and immediately sank down to sit, with my legs crossed, and struggled against my instincts before managing to actually open my eyes. I could barely see anything, let alone the beautiful image from my dream. The tiniest inkling of moonlight told me that I wasn't looking at pitch blackness, but I couldn't make out any shapes at all, and if it weren't for the feel of the sand below me I wouldn't be able to tell up from down either. Even though it wasn't perfect, I felt myself relax, I felt properly alone like I did in my dream, able to just think and dream and wonder.

It felt like a long time, but either I am far better at holding my breath than I have any business being, or the whole ordeal took less than a minute, because it wasn't the need for air that ended my adventure - it was the temperature that broke me. My bones ached from the cold, and I decided to give up on my dream and go find the warmth of the fire. I kicked myself up and started to swim to the surface, only to find that it was a lot further up than I had anticipated.

Every time the tide crashed and recoiled I would get tugged a tiny bit out to sea. It felt like I hadn't moved much, but as soon as I stood fully up and wasn't anywhere near the surface, I began to panic with the realization that I may have moved a lot further than I intended. I jumped off the ocean floor and swam upward (though now I'm not entirely sure I was pointing straight up) for what felt like a full minute.

I was beginning to think that I might actually die this way, but then my fingers broke the surface of the water, and in a moment I was treading water and trying to look around for the bonfire. I could see it, but it was a long way off. Luckily the beach wasn't far - I had been drifting along it and not directly out to sea. The cold was starting to make my limbs numb, and I felt increasingly heavy as I started to swim towards land. First my knees hit bottom, then I crawled forward and collapsed onto the sand, and that's when I heard the first call from a man nearby. He was scrawny and pale, like me, but clearly American, wearing nothing but some SpongeBob swim trunks, which I thought was childish for a guy who was clearly in his late twenties or early thirties. I don't remember exactly what he said, only that he reached out and grasped my wrist - exactly like the man in my dream had - and pulled me inland. A glow stick dangled from his neck, and his shoulder-length blonde hair was beautiful under the light, though again a far cry from my dream.

His hand was so warm, I must've pulled myself into his arms, because soon he had pulled me up the shore enough that the waves no longer crashed into me, and was knelt down beside me, wrapping me in a hug. "Are you okay?" He said, then tried his best to ask the same question in Japanese, but it was gibberish. He shook his head and drunkenly slurred a few more things I don't really remember, but I do remember him saying "damn even the serving girls around here are so hot". I suspect he assumed I didn't speak English, and assumed my station because of the extremely bland black one-piece swimming suit I wore. I just laid there and let him warm me up, until my shivering stopped.

His warm hands that had been rubbing the life back into my skin now began to explore a little more aggressively, with one slipping under the fabric of my one-piece and rubbing the small of my back directly, and the other cradling my neck while he quite affectionately began to kiss my freezing skin and nuzzle his nose into me. That's when I became quite aware that he was on top of me, and I was pinned to the beach, and that he was not at all afraid of molesting the daughter of his boss - I assume - in broad moonlight. Of course he didn't know who I was, but I doubted it would've mattered to him in that moment. I was shivering again, this time in mixed excitement and fear. He started sucking a hickey into my skin, and I twisted and wiggled a bit beneath him, unsure if I wanted to try and make him stop or not.

The thing is that it felt nice, probably doubly so because of the warmth, and the deep association with my dream, which I had wanted to play out for a long time. When he slipped a hand down to squeeze my ass, I let out a tiny yelp, but made the internal decision that I was okay with it, even though I still felt unsure. He was hardly my dream man - quite thin and with a somewhat sunken visage, his nose a bit too large, his brow a bit too bushy. But he had very nice lips, and he was a real human man that wanted to touch me badly enough that he'd just made a move, something that was rare in my life in Japan.

He was very awkward and fumbling to undress me, and eventually seemed to get angry enough to just yank at the stretchy cloth hard enough that my breasts popped out. Then he caught one of my hands with his and lifted it up above my head, pinning me down to the beach and propping himself up while he used his other hand to grope my breasts, one and then the other. "Holy fuck you're so hot" He stammered, then kissed me hard and sank his whole body down on top of me, and I felt his obvious boner press against my thigh. The intense warmth of it felt nice.

He scrambled, seemingly indecisive about playing with my boobs or making another attempt to tug my swimsuit down further, his free hand moving back and forth between the tasks while he shoved his tongue in my mouth. I tried to meet his tongue with mine and do all the things I'd practiced doing, sliding my tongue along his and tightening the press of my lips to give a tiny bit of suction, suckling on his bottom lip when I got the chance, but he was either inexperienced like me, or too horny or drunk to be tender and seemed content to just drool into my mouth.

He broke the kiss with a grunt and reached to tug his own shorts down, freeing his cock to spring free and poke me in the inner thigh. I could see he was overwhelmed by that sensation, and in an instant he yanked the fabric of my one-piece that covered my pussy to the side and lined his cock up with me, and sank into me all in one motion.

I tried to stifle a cry but it still came out as a raspy squeak, and my mouth opened wide as my body struggled to adjust. I was aroused enough by the whole dream situation that I was soaked, but it still hurt a little to be entered that way. He collapsed on top of me with a deep moan and started humping me, fucking me in erratic, unpracticed movements that left me wanting more. My pussy clung to him tightly enough that when he rocked backwards my ass would lift off the sand, and then he'd crash back into me and make my whole body bounce and knock another wheezy squeak out of my lungs.

When he grabbed my hip and held me steady, and started a more rhythmic movement, it started to feel good and I lost myself in visions from my dream. Soon I was moaning and my toes were curling when he plowed into me, then I would feel empty and needy when he retreated, only to be filled again a moment later. I wasn't cold at all any more. With one more crash into me, he moaned and suddenly stopped moving, pinning me to the beach hard, a subtle shaking in his hips my only stimulation. "Ah fuck, I can't do that to you." He said, then he pulled himself out of me and stood up. Grabbing me by the ear, with remarkable tenderness, he guided me to sit up and put his cock in my face.

I looked at it, then up at him, and didn't realize that my mouth had already opened into a small 'o' shape from sheer surprise until he stepped forward and guided the tip of it to my lips. I blinked back my confusion - looking back there was no reason to be confused, but I was - and let him slide his cock into my mouth. I tried to suck on it, but he grabbed my head and started thrusting in and out and all I could do was try to use my tongue to welcome him back in, and clench my lips down around his shaft when I had the chance. It was slimy, and tasted vaguely familiar, salty and something else. I dutifully sucked him for another minute or so before he let out a loud groan and exploded in my mouth, shooting hot sticky seed onto my tongue for a few long seconds.

Then he stammered something unintelligible and stepped backward, yanking up his swim shorts and wandering off towards the bon fire.

I was suddenly aware that my ass was caked in sand, and my hair was an absolute mess, and my swim suit was stretched badly enough that it would never fit right again, and that I had been left without sexual release. Still, I felt oddly satisfied.

The state of my clothing definitely got me some odd looks, but I explained that I had been pulled out by the tide and nearly drowned, and was met with great sympathy and a few stern warnings instead of social scandal.

A while later I actually looked the man up in the company directory and wound up dating him for a year, after an awkward conversation about how I do in fact speak English, and am in fact his bosses daughter. I liked the way he used me, but perhaps those times can be left to other stories.