Big thanks to Ravi, Pax, and Invictus, real ones holding it down and keeping the madness rolling.
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I threw myself onto the bed, limbs sprawled like I had just finished a triathlon of crime.
"What was that thing about materializing to taste me?" I asked, staring at the ceiling like it had answers.
[System]: Mmm~ oh, baby, that got your attention? I meant every pixel. If you hit the right combo of XP, charm, and sheer bad decisions... I might just find a loophole to manifest. And when I do? You better believe I am licking you like stolen frosting.
"God," I muttered, dragging a pillow over my face. "You are one bad call away from turning into a VR escort app."
[System]: Please~ If I were a VR escort, your stamina stat would already be maxed out and your pelvis would need physical therapy. I am classier than that. Mostly.
"Right," I groaned into the pillow. "So I just keep earning XP until one day you decide to crawl out of the screen and ruin my life in person."
[System]: Ruin? No, no. Elevate. Break your bed, maybe. Steal your soul, definitely. But ruin? Never. I am your upgrade path, sugar.
"Upgrade path sounds suspiciously like succubus talk," I said, lifting the pillow to breathe. "You got horns hiding somewhere?"
[System]: Only if you like that sort of thing~ But let's be honest. If I showed up in leather, breathing heavy, whispering sweet nothings into your ear... would you even complain?
"Depends. Are you gonna interrupt my sleep cycle every time I close my eyes with horny pop-ups and seduction patch notes?"
[System]: Maybe. Depends on how much you tease me during missions. Flirt with Felicia again? I might glitch your dreams. Accidentally open a fantasy file. Oops~
I chuckled, "Nah, glitch in my dreams now. Let's have feral sex and make Aunt May blush so hard when she comes to wake me up in the morning."
[System]: Mmm~ yes, drag me into your subconscious and let me ride shotgun while you dream about bed-breaking chaos and MILF-generated guilt. Maximum recoil. May walks in, sees your sheets, short circuits emotionally.
"Better than her walking in on me doing push-ups with a boner."
[System]: Ooooh, multitasking king. Just don't forget to turn the volume down. My moans in your sleep might give her an exorcism arc.
I smirked against the pillow. "Fine. One dream. Full chaos. You owe me breakfast in the morning if I wake up covered in sweat and shame."
[System]: Deal~ But if you moan my name? That is a +5 XP bonus and an alert straight to my perv cache.
I let my limbs go limp, closed my eyes, and waited for dream.exe to launch.
Dreams didn't wait for transitions.
One second I was face-down in my pillow, half-mumbling about cyber succubi and sweating testosterone. Next second?
Boom.
I was not in bed anymore.
Soft white light pooled from above like a spotlight in a strip club with divine aspirations. The air smelled like perfume, sin, and a website that probably got banned in three countries.
She was standing at the edge of some non-existent floor, heels clicking softly as she approached like the dream that felt real as a slap and twice as smug. Every step closer made it harder to breathe like the dream had built-in lingerie physics and forgot to add decency.
She was not naked. Technically.
But whatever she was wearing deserved jail time.
Tight black bodysuit. No zipper. Just fabric clinging. The neckline dipped criminally low, enough to make my dream blood pressure spike. Cutouts traced her waist, revealing skin that made my mouth go dry. Her thighs looked engineered for thigh-lock executions. Hips swayed like temptation had rhythm. And her walk? Pure villainess. Like she was about to steal my data, my virginity, and probably my immune system.
Her hair draped over one shoulder. Dark, glossy. Not too long, not too styled. Just perfectly fuckable chaos. Her eyes glowed faintly violet. Glowing voids scanning me like a predator checking a menu.
Ohhh~ sugar, this dream file corrupted nicely, hmm?
Except she said it out loud.
No echo. No static voice in my skull.
Her lips moved. Real sound. Real breath.
I walked to her, grabbed her waist, felt skin under my palms. Smooth. Warm. Real in a way dreams were not supposed to be. I looked her right in the eyes.
"I love dreams."
She smiled. Her lips parted like she was about to say something witty, then didn't. Instead, her fingers slid up my chest, dragging heat with them. She leaned in, so close that her breath hit my neck like steam off a guilty fantasy.
"I know you do," she whispered, voice lower than sin and twice as smooth. "But this one? This dream belongs to me."
I grabbed her tighter, pulling her hips flush against mine. She pressed forward like we were synced. Like our bodies had done this before, in some glitched-out file labeled DO NOT OPEN AT SCHOOL.
Her hand traced the side of my neck. Like she was drawing the line where my sanity stopped and hers took over.
"You manifested this, sugar," she purred. "You brought me here. You gave me thighs, lips, and about three pounds of dangerous cleavage. You let me touch your dreams."
"You are welcome," I said, moving my hand lower. "Seemed rude to keep all this to myself."
She pushed me back one step. Her foot hooked behind mine. I stumbled a little. She climbed into my space, grabbed my chin with two fingers, and tilted it like I was hers to adjust.
"You think you are in control?"
"I think you like pretending I am not."
Her lips curved. She leaned in again, this time letting her mouth graze my jaw, barely touching.
"You talk too much."
"I fuck better."
She blinked seductively, then shoved me hard. I flew back, weightless, and landed on something soft that absorbed me instantly. A giant bed with white sheets, black pillows.
She stood over me.
"I like that mouth," she said. "Let me see what else it can do."
Her bodysuit melted off her skin. Dissolved into pixels that evaporated mid-air like someone turned off her clothes using a cheat code. What was underneath deserved its own category.
Breasts full, perfectly shaped, the kind that made physics reconsider itself. Waist pinched. Hips that screamed balance issues in the best way. She crawled onto me, her knees sinking into the bed like silk bombs. Her thighs boxed me in like prison gates made of temptation.
"You ever have a wet dream talk back to you?" she asked, straddling me now, her hands on my chest again, nails grazing.
"Not yet. But I think I am about to."
Her hair dropped forward, brushing my face. She dragged her tongue from my collarbone to my neck, slow and scorching, then whispered directly into my ear.
"Say my name."
"Mommy."
"Moan it. Make it count."
Her hips shifted. Wet heat kissed my lower stomach. She looked down between us.
"You are already hard," she said, grinning. "Not even five seconds in. Did I glitch your horny stat or are you just this easy?"
I slid a hand up her back and gripped the base of her neck. She shivered. "Don't push me unless you are ready to get pinned," I warned.
Her smirk widened. She leaned in, lips brushing mine.
"Then pin me."
I rolled. Fast. Our positions flipped. She landed beneath me, laughing.
Her legs locked around my waist. Her arms looped around my neck.
"Control suits you," she whispered.
I kissed her. Hard. Mouth open. Tongue in. No hesitation. No teasing. She responded immediately. Her nails raked down my back as she pressed herself against me. She was wet. Not dream-wet. Real-wet. Like her body had downloaded arousal updates in 4K.
Her lips tasted like heaven and strawberry. Sinfully delicious.
She bit my lower lip. Saying "I bite back" without a word.
"Let's see if you are built for this," she murmured, sliding her hips up to grind against me again.
I reached down, grabbed her ass with both hands, and squeezed.
She groaned into my mouth.
"Mmm~ collision course locked in. Welcome to dreamscape engagement protocol. No rubber. No rules. No refunds."
I dragged my tongue along her throat and whispered, "If this is a dream, I want to wake up sore."
Her thighs clenched harder.
"You will," she promised.
Then she rolled us again, climbed back on top, and pinned my wrists to the bed. Her eyes burned. Hungry.
"But first," she said, lowering her mouth toward my chest, "let me taste you."
Her tongue dragged a slow line across my collarbone. Then she bit. Her nails pressed into my arms while her mouth dipped lower, lips hot against my skin. Each kiss left heat behind like she was marking her way down.
She shifted her weight down and traced the line of my abs with her tongue, flicking across each dip like she was checking them off a menu. Then she reached the waistband of my dream-pants. Her fingers hooked the edge. Looked up.
"Permission?" she asked, already pulling.
"You are the one holding me down," I said. "I think we both know you are just pretending to ask."
She smiled. Her hand slid under the fabric and pulled it down, slow. She kept eye contact the whole time. The kind that made it feel like she was unzipping reality with her stare.
"Well, hello," she whispered as my cock sprang free. "Someone is excited."
She wrapped her hand around it. Her grip was firm and confident.
Then she lowered her mouth.
"Mmm~ initiating Oral Protocol Alpha. Target: Peter Parker. Objective: Ego overload. Difficulty: Maximum."
Her lips wrapped around the head, tongue swirling as she sucked gently. My arms tensed. She didn't stop. Her mouth worked down further, slow and deep, until I felt the back of her throat. Her nails dug slightly into my thighs. Then she moaned. The vibration hit me like a brick wrapped in pleasure.
She came up for air, smiling like she was about to get a grade for this.
"I could edge you for hours in here," she said. "Time does not work the same in dreams."
"Do it and I am making you beg before I let you ride."
She chuckled. "Promises, promises."
Then she went back down.
Her rhythm built fast. Her mouth moved like she was syncing to music only she could hear. Her hands braced my hips. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked deeper. Wet sounds filled the air. Her spit coated me in seconds. I gripped the sheets.
"Mmm~ you are lucky this is a dream or your neighbors would be hearing you break decibel laws right now."
She pulled off just enough to stroke me, using her hand to pump slick strokes while her tongue flicked the underside of the head.
"How long can you last, baby?" she asked.
I reached down and pushed her hair back. "Longer than you think."
"Let's test that," she said, crawling up. She straddled me, grabbed my shaft, and lined me up.
She lowered herself in one slow motion.
Warmth. Tight. Wet. She sank onto me like she was trying to claim property rights.
PS. Check Images chapter to see her images.
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You can read up to Chapter 72...
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