Hellie had been having recurring dreams of her landlord, Bryant, for months.
She'd lived in his house a little over a year, since she'd started school. Another room was rented to another college student, Trevor, and the three of them got along well. She'd been attracted to Bryant since the beginning, but the dreams had started one night after the two of them drank whiskey together in the kitchen.
If Hellie was honest with herself, she would probably want to fuck Trevor, too, but he was gay. Bryant was older, Black, muscled, and had the calmly clever air of a well-learned man (he was a retired college professor). His voice was always warm and reassuring, even when he was teasing her. She also knew, from experience, that he could pick her up, and this didn't help when she thought of all the things that could potentially happen between them. Sometimes, on days off, she would let her long, coppery-brown hair hang down her back, wear only a tank top and shorts, and find various reasons to wander around the house and yard so that Bryant would see her exposed, freckled skin, and her well-curved body, with very little left to the imagination.
Her dreams always started the same way, and tonight was no exception: she went downstairs and found Bryant in the kitchen.
"Hi," she said, shy this time. She was suddenly wearing a small, plain white nightgown. It was short and clingy, making her feel almost naked. Underneath, Hellie was bare. The tightness of it and the fact that she was already aroused made her breasts feel bigger somehow, almost swollen. She could feel the light material strain around her ass and the tops of her thighs.
"Fancy meeting you here," he said with a smile. "Back in my dreams again."
Hellie frowned. "This is my dream."
Bryant nodded. "You're right- I knew where I was going."
"You always say things like that."
"Sit down. Please, join me." Bryant's smile was warm and sexy.
Hellie sat down in the hard wooden chair. "It's funny. My dreams with you are always the same."
"Oh really?" Bryant didn't look surprised, though his tone was inquisitive.
Hellie nodded. "Like you're inside my mind, like you came here. I guess it must be how I see you."
"How do you see me?"
"As someone who has...preternatural control of everything he does."
"Preternatural. Now there's a word I haven't heard in some time." Bryant sipped his whiskey. "You like being controlled, don't you baby?"
Hellie smiled wistfully. "I really do." She looked into his eyes. His gaze was magnetic to her, like she could fall into him, completely enthralled.
Lovely, dark, and deep, she thought.
"We should just fuck, right?" Hellie said. "It's what I want and it's my dream."
Bryant nodded to her drink. "Take a sip, baby. Slow down." He held her gaze. "Trust me, Helena. We have time."
Helena.
"But I want you to touch me," Hellie whispered.
"I'm already holding you," he said softly. "I'm just holding your mind first."
Hellie bit her lip. "Why does that turn me on?"
"Because that's what you want," said Bryant. "You want to be spread open completely. Opened up, made vulnerable, reached deep inside and pushed to your limit. Don't you? You want me to get all the way into you, in every single way I can. And I'm a big believer in getting inside a woman's mind before I get inside her pussy. Or even her mouth."
Hellie swallowed.
"Or her tight little ass."
Hellie's lips parted. "Oh, fuck."
"You like that huh? You like it in every hole. You like it everywhere. Don't you, baby?"
Hellie pressed her lips together. Her mouth was watering. "Yes. Yes. Yes D--" She stopped.
Bryant leaned closed to her. "What, baby? What was that?"
"Bryant. Yes, Bryant."
"That's not what you were going to say, is it?"
"No," Hellie whispered.
"Tell me what you want to call me, Helena."
"Daddy," Hellie whimpered. "I want to call you Daddy."
Bryant nodded.
"Is that terrible?" Hellie whispered. She was used to depraved and uncaring men, men who'd take her any way they could get her, men who had no limit to the filth that might be said or done between them. But Bryant was the person whose roof was over her head, who asked about her life and her classes, who talked to her about the news. She didn't know how much he'd gleaned about her life, or her job, as a slut. She didn't know what he'd think.
Then she remembered. She was dreaming.
Still, she continued. "I shouldn't. It's weird, it's gross. It's wrong." She swallowed, looked down. "And I've called a lot of men Daddy."
"Cut that out, baby." Bryant stood, came to her and crouched in front of her. "Does it make you wet?"
"What?" Hellie asked.
"Does it make you wet to call me Daddy?"
Hellie nodded. "Yes."
"Then that's what I want you to call me, baby." He came closer, his mouth inches from hers. "Do you want Daddy to take care of that little pussy, baby?"
Hellie took in a quivering breath. "Yes. Yes, Daddy."
"It's empty, isn't it baby?"
Hellie's breath caught. "Yes Daddy."
Bryant moved his mouth, asking each of his questions against her face, her neck, her ear, her collarbone.
"You want Daddy to make it full?"
"Please. Please fill me up, Daddy. Fill me up everywhere."
"Daddy's filling up your mind right now."
"Yes."
"You want Daddy to come find you in your bed, baby?"
"Yes."
"Touch your body under the sheets?"
"Yes."
"You want Daddy to touch those little holes?"
"Yes. Please, yes."
"You want Daddy to fill those holes up, baby?"
"Oh god, please Daddy, yes. Please, my mouth. My pussy. My ass...I want you to touch me there."
"You want to show Daddy everything, don't you?"
"Yes, yes Daddy."
Bryant kissed her then, pushing his lips soft and firm into hers.
"I want that too, baby. But I need to know you want it outside of our dreams."
"I do," Hellie moaned. "I do."
Bryant nodded.
"I wish I could tell you," she said. "I wish this were real."
"It is, baby." He held her chin gently. "I'll show you." He kissed her again. "When you wake up? I'll knock on your door. I'll give you some bullshit reason. When I knock? Don't open the door. Just rub that pussy, and talk back to me." He smiled at her pleading expression. "And then at breakfast? I'll ask you about your dream." He stood. "You'll see. You'll see."
"Please," she said. "Please, stay. Don't leave, I want you so badly."
"I have to go, baby. You have to wake up."
"Please," she begged him again.
When Hellie woke up under the blankets in her dark bedroom, she could remember how Bryant's lips had felt against hers. She reached down between her legs, rubbed her clit, felt that her pussy was hot and damp.
"God, please," she whispered. She pinched her clit gently, drew a finger up along her wet pussy lips and twirled it around her clit. She opened her thighs, imagining that she was opening up for Bryant.
She smiled to herself. Wouldn't it be something if he really did knock? What would she do? What would she really do, if he really knocked?
Maybe she would get up out of bed, completely naked, answer the door, and say "What took you so long?" Or she'd kiss him immediately.
Or maybe she'd kneel down.
She imagined his cock, imagined it bare inside her. Fucking Bryant wouldn't be like fucking the strangers who came in her every day. This was someone she knew and trusted on a different level than most. She wanted him to touch her, her breasts in his hands, her nipples between his fingertips, her pussy on his palm and her ass under it.
She fingered her pussy with three fingers she she imagined Bryant touching her, fucking her. Slowly, sinking into pleasure and still drowsy, she began to drift back to sleep, her hand slowing, fingers coated in her own juice.
There was suddenly a sound.
Hellie blinked awake, having fallen too far back into sleep to know what had re-awakened her.
Then it came again. A knock at her door.
Hellie froze. What the fuck? A burglar? Trevor? She gripped her covers.
Then she blinked again, remembering. Bryant?
"Yes?" She croaked. "Yes? Hello??"
