Suzanne Portnoy

I’ve been having kissing dreams. Not gang bang dreams or blowjob dreams or even one-on-one fucking dreams, just kissing dreams. They started about a month ago and now I have one almost every night. Last night in my dream I was helping a friend to get ready for her house party. Everyone was in some kind of burlesque type costume and I had to sellotape a paper sign over the door. There were lots of people waiting outside to get in. It was a very popular party. I asked some random guy if he would help me to hold the sign so I could tape it up and he said, ‘Can we kiss first?’

It was one a long, lingering kiss. An intimate kiss. The kind of kiss I can’t remember having in a very, very long time. Mainly I fuck and I suck but I rarely kiss. Kissing almost feels wrong in a group sex situation. But in my dream we seemed to be glued together forever and I remember never wanting it to end. It felt so real. I remember his tongue gently caressing mine, his soft lips and his warm breath filling my mouth. I remember feeling the bulge beneath his trousers. We stayed in that doorway for a long time before the sound of the people outside the door reminded me that I had to get back to putting up the sign.

Always in my dream, the man is a stranger, not so much a face and a body but more a feeling, a touch, a reminder of what it feels like to be connected to someone. I remember having my first kissing dream almost a decade ago, when I was in a barren marriage. I remember thinking back then, I wonder if I’ll ever get to kiss someone like that again. Now I wonder, When will I get to kiss someone like that again.

Yesterday I went for a steam and a sauna and ran into a guy I hadn’t seen for about six months. He’s bald and well built, with blue eyes and a cheeky grin. Over the years we have gotten together from time to time, shared a sandwich and a laugh. I enjoy being with him, just being with him. He rubbed oil all over my body yesterday and then we lay next to each other in the steam room. He spent most of the time just running his fingers through my hair while I stroked his shoulder and arm. We stayed like that for twenty minutes or so, just stroking each other, while the steam filled the room and formed a cloud over the other people sitting on the tiled slab opposite us. For a few minutes, it felt like it was just us, alone in that room. I didn’t know whether we would have sex, didn’t really care either. I had always considered him a friend more than a fuck buddy. At that moment, being touched was enough.

An hour or so later, another man gave me a massage but it wasn’t the same. The room was full of men sitting around and gawping and it wasn’t intimate at all, more a floor show. That man asked if I wanted to go in a room with him and watch him wank but I said ‘no.’ I wasn’t in the mood to watch a guy wank.

Then, later that evening, I kissed a friend. It was a brief kiss, not a lingering kiss like in my dream. But it was soft and gentle and nice. We had a brief and memorable fling a year or so ago but now we’re just friends. It’s better that way.

This weekend I didn’t get fucked but I did get a gentle touch, a loving kiss. It was enough.