Waka Pass Diaries (The Wet Dream)

October 21

I had a wet dream during my afternoon nap – an occurrence that was incredible for two reasons. One, I’ve not had a wet dream in years. It’s such a juvenile experience, I’m pretty sure the last time I ejaculated in my sleep was in my early twenties.

And then, I’m having it now, and it had to be to a dream – not about Idris Elba doing nasty, dirty things to me, oh no; Or about me in porn heaven orgy where I’m the Bottom to Addicktion, XL, Phoenix Fellington and Deangelo Jackson – no, not that either; Or even about me saying “I do” and then getting kissed by my new husband, Adonis O’Holi – no, not even that!

Get this: I had an orgasmic experience in my sleep to the dream of a heterosexual wedding! That’s right! A man and a woman getting married! A faceless couple who my dream didn’t even bother to give an identity! I didn’t know who they were, even though they clearly thought me special enough to make me one of the groomsmen. I slept and woke up in a church, clad in the groomsman attire of imperial-purple jacket over black trousers, waiting with the other faceless groomsmen behind the expectant bridegroom. A vision of white was sweeping down the aisle to the swelling melodies of “Here comes the Bride”. And I was rolling my eyes. (Well, at least, the dream got my sentiments right)

The ceremony was a blur, going by speedily as only dreams go, and a fast-forward click later, it was time for the wedding photographs. And while everyone was fussing about in the courtyard of the church, shouting instructions and practicing poses, I was standing aloofly in a corner of the church’s entrance, somehow with a hefty piece of roasted turkey in my hand, from which I was plucking sliver after tantalizing sliver of meat and slipping into my mouth, chewing while observing the merry fuss before me with an unimpressed gaze.

Then a hunky wedding guest, who again somehow had no clearly defined features (this dream was just full of faceless people), sidled up to me, and we were soon flirting up a storm.

But chill, before you say “Oh, that’s it then” with a knowledgeable nod of your heads, that’s not where the ejaculation happened. No.

The pressure started building when I was suddenly startled from y flirtationship by the booming voice of the photographer: THE BRIDE, THE GROOM AND THE GROOMSMEN!

The tingles started coming in pinpricks of pleasure as my head snapped around to see my fellow purple-jacketed and black-bottomed brothers already arranging themselves around the bride and groom.

My groin communicated the urgency to my heart and a furious jackhammering stated behind my chest as I shoved my roasted turkey at the hunky, faceless wedding guest – “Hold this for me!” – and turned to dash down the steps to take my position.

The pressure turned into a headlong rush for the peak as I rushed to the small group, elbowed a groomsman out of a vantage spot and took my position, before turning a beaming smile ahead in the direction of the photographer.

“Say cheese!” he commanded.

Our smiles flashed.

And then the camera clicked – microseconds before the pressure peaked and I found myself jerking awake to spurts of semen staining my boxers.

I had just cum to a wedding shot of a heterosexual wedding!

Whaddaelisthat!!!

God forbid bad thing!

I felt dirty! I felt unclean! I felt violated!

If this was the universe nudging me down the path of MGM-hood, I reject, I bind and then I cast into the deep, dark abyss reserved for those witches pursued by Mountain of Fire prayer warriors.

Written by Pink Panther