Waves crashing.

Seagulls screeching.


Sucking hungrily on her tongue his breath stopped as he violently exploded inside her. Panting heavily he rolled over and welcomed oblivion. Then woke up.


It didn’t bother him much that he had to clean up after himself again. It was the fact that the dream had ended all too soon that frustrated him most. Ever since he got into lucid dreaming he reveled in knowing that he could control whatever happened in them. He came across an article months earlier that suggested that if you wanted to experience a lucid dream all you had to do was ask yourself frequently throughout the day whether if what you were seeing was a dream or not. The idea was to somehow say it so often that the thought would eventually end up crossing your mind as you slept.

What ended up happening was that the dreams became increasingly more vivid. He actually started smelling odors. He felt objects. Cold. Wetness. Heat. And upon waking he’d be left more and more disappointed. Like now.

Frustrated he got up quickly to change himself. Sliding his bottom across the bed he felt a searing pain as though he had just slid across pavement.
Wincing in pain, he got up and felt his rear. He pulled his hands to his face.

Sand was stuck to his fingers.