Does she remember the somnophilia kink? Is it nestled deeply inside her brain? I grasp the opportunity. "Wouldniceinclude waking up to one or both of us giving you an orgasm?"
A huge smile takes over her face. "Waking from a dream into a dream… that's a yes."
Her answer was so simple compared to the extensive diary entries she made about it. Maybe she doesn't remember. But at least she agreed.
A knock echoes through the room.
Dylan greets the delivery guy and takes the food to the kitchen.
She follows him and we're sorting containers. "Wait, can we do a picnic? Inside? I just got a flash of a memory of sitting on the floor eating while watching movies with my family."
I nod, unable to speak at how correct her memory is. If the family members develop faces or names, this evening will take a serious turn. As hard as it might be, it's for the best. I don't want her to go the rest of her life without memories of her childhood.
She catches my hesitation. "What?"
I set my carton down. "I love you. We're meant to be together. I realize you might need time to process that. There's no pressure for you to say it back. I just wanted you to know."
She pulls the wooden chopsticks from their wrapper. "I feel like I'm fated to be with both of you also. It's a new feeling… maybe that's love?"
Dylan's hand hovers over the egg roll he was about to pick up when I dropped the bomb. "We're here for you… Molly. You can trust us."
Molly shakes us from the heaviness and prompts us to lay a blanket down and eat picnic style while watching Scrooge. When we’re finished, we curl up in beanbag chairs and she's out before the movie ends.
He and I carefully slide away. The shirt I gave her rode up, catching on the underside of her tits, exposing her belly and her black bush.
"How about this playlist?" Dylan says quietly while starting music from his phone.
"Perfect. What's it called?"
"It's a BookTok inspired playlist. Pretty hot."
"Time to wake our Snow White." I strip and Toby does the same.
"Hang on a second." He turns off the TV, leaving the white lights of the Christmas tree to illuminate our pale princess. Half in darkness, half in light, her outer world mirrors her inner.
She's out cold, sprawled on the beanbag chair. I lift one of her hands. It's dead weight. I kiss her fingertip, then Dylan takes it from me and does the same.
"Time to make our princess's fantasy come true," he whispers and nods for me to do the honors.
I almost feel bad about waking her if she's this tired, but we can sleep all day, take rests between making love. She'll need it even if she won't admit it.
Kissing my way up her thigh, I stay attuned for the slightest movement, torn between wanting her to stay asleep until I'm inside of her and wanting her to wake up and wrap her body around mine.
Knowing that I'm making her fantasy come true, I keep my kisses light, lessening the chance she'll rouse.
When my lips graze her sweet pussy, I hold my position and breathe in her sugary scent. My cock aches. There will be time later to make slow, sweet love to her.
Her diary entries were all about waking on the verge of orgasm, but instead of it fading with the dream, she gets to live the dream and come undone on a huge cock while drifting in a combined dream space and orgasmic euphoria.
She sold me on the idea.
I crawl on top of the beanbag—not the easiest task. The tip of my cock brushes her slit. My pre-cum mingles with her juices. Easing myself back and forth over her clit, I hope it's the right call, building that orgasm before entering her—cause that's sure to wake her up.
I've denied my desires for so long. To love her. To cherish her. To swell her belly.
Will she regret trusting the auction? Will my mother ever forgive me—us, because Dylan's all-in too? I shove the thoughts from my mind. Deep down, I know we're giving her what she wants.
Things she was afraid to admit. I get it. I was afraid too. If not for her diary, Dylan and I wouldn't know we shared this love for her, and that she craved it.
