BOE (Boner)

So, some extremely intelligent psychologist – you know I’m not into naming names when I’m being facetious – states it’s his belief that our nocturnal erections and emmissions are a direct result from dreams of a sexual nature. Um…Huh?? What???

I think I have to vigorously (but sort of respectfully) disagree with that statement. Somehow I do not think male fetuses are having sex dreams. I don’t think any male under the age of, oh, I don’t know…let’s say 7 - just to be on the safe side – is capable of dreaming about sex of any kind. The guy must belong to some extreme right-wing religious cult where science is thrown out with the baptismal font water.

Medical science believes the baby boners (well, all unintentional boners for that matter) are the body ensuring there is an adequate supply of oxygen-rich blood to the tissues – maybe that’s why they’re called blood-oxygen erections (or BOE’s)! Now, by the time we hit our late teens or early twenties the daytime ones don’t become fully-blown; mainly because we’ve kinda learned to ignore them. Either that or we’re too focused on the job at hand (No, I did not say hand-job; pay attention here).

Now if this genius had said the sleeping stiffy’s cause dreams to become sexual in nature I woulda bought into it. And if he’d gone on to postulate the dream then perpetuates our peckers to not only stay hard but make them get even harder, I would’ve been on board and backed him up.

The reason this, um… came up… is because I had one of the most erotic dreams the other night. I remember it quite vividly. And my woody was as hard as tree trunk. I was on a train  - in Europe somewhere – a really funky two-level one; you know, like the double-decker buses. But this was definitely a train. I sat on a bench seat next to this very young man with long, curly dark hair, dark eyes, deeply tanned and had a very alluring smile. He’d swiveled on the bench to face me with one knee pulled up. Then there was a guy in the seat behind us, leaning over and talking with the two of us. I have no idea what the conversation was about – all I know is the young man kept taking our hands and running them along the left side of his face and neck. He sigh real softly as he did it.

This went on for miles, station after station. Then after the train left this one station, he grabbed my hand, fingers entwined, and stood up. As he passed the seat behind us, he grabbed that guy’s hand as well. Holding our hands, he led us to the spiral staircase and up to the second level. Lo! and behold! as we emerged to the top we could see scores of nude men. They stood, sat, knelt, and laid everywhere. Every one of them had a raging hard-on. Every one either had a hand on themselves or wrapped around someone else’s dick stroking away. Heads were thrown back, moans and sighs filled the air.

The kid turned to us both, undressed us, knelt down and proceeded to give us both hand-jobs with slow, long, loving strokes. He’d lick the tips once in a while, sometimes he’d be using two hands on one of us and fondle our balls. It felt so fucking good! And wouldn’t you know it, my damn alarm clock rang before any of us came. But I woke up with a woody like you couldn’t believe! Huge and hard as nails.

Now, it’s my contention, this dream didn’t cause my dick to get hard; my hard dick caused the dream. The dream just made my cock get harder and stay hard longer than it normally would for your standard nighttime stiffy.