Hello and welcome!

The next few weeks are going to be interesting for you and I--maybe mostly me, who knows?

Wet dreams is a weird story, one I didn't have to think of or outline. It'll flow organically, trust me.

The episodes are quick, short snaps--you'll be able to digest it quick enough while sitting on the toilet seat, I'm sure--and hopefully, if the first two episodes get a good enough traction I'll post frequently.

Enough talk. Get to reading...and please, enjoy!

THIS STORY IS COPYRIGHTED. Please don't be a prick by plagiarizing this. Thanks

Need great stories and books written? I'm also a freelance ghostwriter. so yeah, there's that.

[url]
https://www.fiverr.com/share/GBV8Y0[/url]

Episode 1

---

Everyone has wet dreams. Scratch that, every guy. I don’t know about the ladies. But I think mine is a little different. Don’t ask me how, you’ll find out soon enough.

2009. Biology class. Some secondary school.[/i]

“…I’m looking at the boys now,” the teacher said. He was a bit thick, this dark-skinned man. Well-trimmed beards and puffy cheeks that made you wonder what kind of food he ate.
He paced around the class, holding our attention with his lingering silence. I mean, this guy was a good teacher and storyteller and now he was talking about a sensitive topic and we were all alert. I was there, thirteen years old and Hot (well, I wasn’t Hot at the moment sha; it’s just better to classify myself as that because when am I never Hot? Jesus Christ).

I was sitting between two girls—Martha and Iyanu—my arms grazing against the side of their breasts because hey, these two girls were fifteen and very, very developed.
The teacher continued, “I know you boys have woken up and seen it on your bed, eh?” He winked and raised his eyebrows teasingly. “You ask yourself, ah-ah how did akamu pour on the bed na? And you even see it on your shorts.”

The girls giggle and the boys look uneasy. Yes na, we know what he’s talking about. I know.

He adjusted his belt and smiled. He knew he had us, that man. “It’s not akamu, you hear? It is something else; something bigger and more important.”

2021. Present day

“My relationships never last, but I don’t care. I don’t give a damn.”

I was talking to myself. I was high. I had a raging erection, my penis pushing against my shorts. It was cold and raining outside, and I held a can of Heineken and watched the thunder flash through the dark clouds. The whole erection thing isn’t new with me; it’s probably because of the alcohol—a few crumpled cans lay scattered all over the floor—or maybe it’s just me. The air is cold and it makes me lonely, and when I’m lonely I think of her. She always knows how to take away the loneliness.

I gulped down the last of my drink and sighed, the can creaking as I crumpled it in my hand and tossed it on the floor. I sighed again, took in a deep breath and kept my eyes closed until I heard another rumble of thunder cut through the sky. I smiled and opened my eyes.
“It’s time.”

I walked across the room to the huge wardrobe, opened it and took out a fresh bed sheet. I had like, twenty fresh ones (no kidding); that’s how she likes it. That’s how she demands it.

I whistled ‘Sawale’ as I lay the fresh sheet over the bed, smoothening out the creases with my palm while staggering, humming some parts of the song and then shouting ‘Ashawo!’ and that part of the second.
My shorts were those loose, baggy ones. I smiled again and fell on the bed, the alcohol already working on me. Just a few minutes now, and I’ll be with her.

Episode 2

2009

“I’ve never had a wet dream before o,” Ojo said, shrugging and kicking a small rock like a ball. Everything was like a ball to Ojo, even his shiny clean-shaved head.

But I have, I wanted to say. I know what it means to have that kind of dream and shake, and feel that extreme pleasure, then wake up to see the ‘akamu’ on the bed sheet. I wanted to tell my naïve friend that I’ve had that kind of dream almost six times already, and I’ve already learnt how to quickly wash off the sheets; how to hide the evidence because my mother knows how to bring God into everything, and she'd probably say I'm POSSESSED.

I still remember that first time. The dream had one SS3 girl in it. Earlier that day—the day I had the dream—I’d been punished by the seniors. You see, there are several trees in the school compound, cashews and mangos, and no one is expected to pluck the fruits. It was mango season and we could only watch the green fruit ripen and become that fiery mix of yellow and orange, hanging there and laughing at us.

Closing time on the day before I was punished, I and a few rebellious students decided to ‘take’ some mangoes and run away. Actually, I wasn’t supposed to be among. I was going home when I saw them rushing the tree, so I joined and got two juicy mangoes. Who knew that the school had a spy who saw us and wrote down our names?

So when three seniors entered our class, scanned the faces and called out a few names—mine included—after Biology class right before break, I knew I was in trouble. But things changed when I saw the senior who was in charge of the punishment. Smooth, dark-skinned complexion, thin corn-rows and a fine face. But I didn’t look at those things for long, not when my eyes were busy watching the two pairs of big mangoes on her chest. I don’t know how I finished that punishment but that senior’s breasts was all I could think about all through that day, even right in bed. So I guess the dream was expected.

It was a weird dream. I was in class reading Oliver Twist (I don’t know if that book was symbolic in the dream sha) when I heard the sharp voice.
“Hey, you!”
I raised my head and saw the dark-skinned senior standing in front of the class, folding her arms across her chest. The class suddenly became silent, but then again when I looked closely I found out the class was empty, just the two of us.
“Me?” I asked.
“Yes, you. Stupid! Stand up,” she shouted and I jumped up. And that was when things became weird. She kept shouting, the angry senior, except I didn’t hear anything she said. Her words just tuned out, became muffled like someone had placed a pillow over her face.
I did hear one sentence sha:
“shey you like mango, oya come and lick!”
And I looked up. She dropped her arms and her chest became two perfectly-rounded mangoes, so smooth and fresh. My mouth opened and my tongue rolled out.

She still shouted angry words but I didn’t care. I wanted to eat mangoes, so I slowly walked up to her and stood right before her, he mangoes larger up front.

Then I grabbed them and started sucking, my tongue moving all over the smoothness—from the left one to the right—and I even bit gently and the senior stopped shouting and started moaning, and the more I sucked and tasted the juicy mangoes, the louder she moaned and the hotter I became. Then everything began to pump faster and heat up, and soon my body stiffened and I felt something like an electric shock and poof! Everything went bright and I woke up.

There was a cold sensation on my thighs when I stirred on the bed. With sleep in my eyes I looked down and saw the wet patch on my boxers.
My heart did gbim! Skipped a freaking beat.

“Jesus! Did I urinate on the bed?”

I touched it and frowned. It was sticky, definitely not urine.

Really interesting narration. Please continue

JustCruise:
Really interesting narration. Please continue

Thanks. I'll continue ASAP

No pressure bro but we are still waiting.

JustCruise:
No pressure bro but we are still waiting.

Hey man, no worries. I'm working on it. You'll see the updates soon

Episode 3

2021

She was already waiting for me when I arrived. It's hard to define her--she's sometimes dark and sometimes fair; sometimes thick with big breasts and a phat ass sticking out; sometimes slim and curvy, small breasts and skinny--but either way, she's always beautiful.

The room was dim. I lay on the bed, my hands on the smooth sheets. It has to be fresh; she likes the scent of fresh sheets and the smoothness. Cold air whistled through the air, circling like gusts in a desert (except with cold air) and I shivered just a little bit. Then I felt her touch.
Warm and soft, her hand rested on my thighs. My eyes twitched and I made to open them.

"Don't...not yet," she whispered and poked the tip of her fingers against my hairy thighs. I stiffened and shivered because...why not? Each touch was sending bolts of electrifying pleasures through me, so I did what she asked. Besides, she's stubborn and would never want you to do otherwise.
The bed shook as she climbed on it and crawled closer. I know, because we've done this so many times. I trust her. She gets me, knows just what to do and how to do it.

"So, who is it today?" She asked, her long fingers tickling my sensitive skin as they traced lines around. I winced when she pinched my thigh and plucked the hair on it. She giggled and rubbed the spot with her warm palm and I sighed again, hard as a rock.

"The shawarma girl," I answered. She became silent--that's how I know she's listening; that she wants to hear more.

Earlier today I felt a craving for chicken. Barbequed chicken, to be exact. The image haunted me, that crisp golden beauty with the dotted black burns, and lines etched in the tender flesh by the grill face.

The guy behind the grill had tiny locks on his head, bouncing each time he picked a chicken with the silver prongs and flipped them. I don't know why my eyes were on his head--I'd already paid for two chickens which sizzled under the heat of the grill--but that was around the time I saw her.

It was a semi-crowded place, a bar. So people drifted around here and there, but there was that spot. A booth where a young girl expertly made Shawarmas. Her face was round and small, innocent eyes and a cute smile which disappeared each time she focused on her work, and her lips parted to reveal a beautiful gap tooth. I was instantly drawn. Oh, and she has nice breasts. I could make out the round shapes from behind her apron, the side curving nicely against the corner.

Tinfoil crackled and I turned to see the chicken guy slicing cabbage and cucumbers onto the roasted chickens. While he squirted ketchup and mayonnaise all I could think of was the shawarma girl and how I could squirt my ketchup and mayonnaise on her--okay, just mayonnaise because I'll have to see a doctor if I'm squirting ketchup.

I grabbed the bag, nodded when the guy thanked me, or I think he was asking if I also wanted gizzard, because he started reaching into the show glass for the stacks of gizzards but I was already gone, my legs leading me to the shawarma girl.

Episode 4

Talking to that shawarma girl reminded me of the time, many years ago, when I came home from school during break period (just like two minutes walk or something). I can't remember what I came home for, and there's no way I would have remembered because what happened a few seconds after that practically took up all the memories.

I was about to leave the house, after spending ten minutes or so, locking the heavy metal door when I heard this deep girly voice.
"Can you please help me button this shirt?"

I turned around and saw the girl. I knew her, sort of. Her mother's buka is just up the slope from my house. The girl is matured (maybe 18 or 19) and she had an arm outstretched, her shirt a bit loose at the tip. But my eyes were on the thin transparent singlet she wore, and the beautiful lines of her cleavage.

I nearly came in my school trousers. I don't know how I didn't, but I had a hard dick throughout the shaky few minutes it took me to button her shirt, and I half-expected her to seduce me and take my innocence, with that sexy smile on her face. Except I wasn't so innocent at this point.

So I told her about all that--about the shawarma girl and also that memory of the buka woman's daughter--and she giggled again, and said okay.
She was still on the bed with me, the heat of her body gently pressed against several parts of me.

"So which one do you want tonight? The shawarma girl or that one from years ago?"

"Uhmm... both?"

She giggled. I could never get tired of that sound, the rising softness and the click of her tongue.

"Not tonight. Just one."

So I thought for a moment and answered.

"Okay. Now open your eyes."

I lay widespread on the bed and kneeling before me was the shawarma girl, her black hair lose and fallen over her shoulder, and her gap tooth gazing at me through her thin smile. Her breasts were a perfect pair of roundness, dark areolas, and even darker nipples.

"So...are you ready?" she asked me, her voice just as clear as that same voice when I'd said, "how much for a Shawarma?"

I nodded and grinned. "I'm always ready."

And she spread herself on me and the pleasures built up, my body shot high into another plane.

I woke up with a satisfied sigh. And lay in bed for many minutes before rolling to the side and getting off finally. My shorts were soaked with almost-dried cum, and there were various patches of more cum on the rumpled sheets
Still with that smile, I grabbed the sheets, folded them, and tossed it into the laundry hamper.

I need your comments people!

Talk to me.

Also, hey click on the link to my fiverr gig: https://www.fiverr.com/share/GBV8Y0

You don't have to buy anything, just click on it and give me that sweet, sweet traffic.

More episodes coming soon.

byee!

Boss, you've turned me to an "Oliver Twist". Thanks for the update but am still hungry.

JustCruise:
Boss, you've turned me to an "Oliver Twist". Thanks for the update but am still hungry.

Lol. You'll get more. Even if it's only because of you sef. Hopefully other people will soon join

WetDreamsGuy

Lol. You'll get more. Even if it's only because of you sef. Hopefully other people will soon join


Just keep doing your thing. A good market needs no advert.

Please continue, I'm hooked already.

Purity23, have you seen this..?

wow , these slot of diaries.do you later approach these girls after your wet dream for friendship or it just ends there?

fashionnisir:
wow , these slot of diaries.do you later approach these girls after your wet dream for friendship or it just ends there?

Oh the stories keep going. Just watch out for more updates and you'll find out more.

fashionnisir:
wow , these slot of diaries.do you later approach these girls after your wet dream for friendship or it just ends there?

And there's a hidden rule: no friendships

WetDreamsGuy:

And there's a hidden rule: no friendships

so what's is the trigger? did he need to dwell on his past or current occurrences with encounter with opposite sex to wet dream?
if he breaks the rule what is the consciences?

fashionnisir:
so what's is the trigger? did he need to dwell on his past or current occurrences with encounter with opposite sex to wet dream?
if he breaks the rule what is the consciences?

Hold on na. Lol. this is just episode 4. It's a story unfolding gradually. You'll have your answers soon enough

Thebigdream:
Please continue, I'm hooked already.

Purity23, have you seen this..?

I'll go through it

WetDreamsGuy:


Hold on na. Lol. this is just episode 4. It's a story unfolding gradually. You'll have your answers soon enough

hi hope you are good? we still waiting