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John woke sweating from his dreams with a small jerk. A wall. It felt like he had just fallen and hit a wall. Well, a floor more than likely at that point, but the sensation and the surprise at waking so abruptly faded quickly, replaced instead with mild annoyance. It had been an amazing dream, but it was unravelling in his mind before he could grasp all its threads.

He took a few calming seconds to draw a deep breath, hold it, and try to recall his latest journey in fantasy land. Dragons again, per usual. This he knew because he had the distinct memory of the flash of royal blue and purple scales, of flying through the air chasing their owner, following it… no, her into a cave. Touching, stroking tails, a whispered breath, words spoken and quickly forgotten, and panted sigh of pleasure…

He felt the stir in his boxer briefs. Yep, it had been one of those dreams again, the one where he always ended up pinning a dragoness beneath him, pushing in close, and then slamming awake before anything really interesting could happen with a hard-on so painful his entire crotch ached! Damn.

Once again John felt himself lamenting the lack of a real, proper partner in his bed, but work was demanding and time-consuming, and dating wasn’t really his scene in the first place. All his focus on work would always end with him in an empty bed.

A single loud, drawn out sigh and slight shake of his queen-sized memory foam mattress protested the assumption of emptiness the moment John thought it. All at once he became aware of the sound of someone *not him* breathing, and the fact that the bed beneath him felt abnormally sloped off to his right, the side of the bed where he habitually did not sleep.

What? Had he brought someone home, gotten drunk, and forgotten? John jumped, opened his eyes, and rolled to face his right, the source of the sound. Amber morning light crept around the blackout curtains on the bay window in that direction, providing just enough light to make out a large, lithe, and entirely confusing form sprawled out on the bed beside him. A girl would have been surprising, sure, but what he saw made so little sense that he had to take it in small chunks:

A wedge-shaped head cut in sharp-plated angles, twin nostril-ridges peaking a long, tapering muzzle, a pair of swept back ivory horns with a webbed crest in between and running down a long neck defined the forward end of the creature, along with a pair of equally-webbed earfrills just below the horns. It bore a narrow chest and torso that flowed back into its hips, two pairs of muscular legs fore and aft tucked up against a trim belly. The bulky shape of a half curled wing was the only thing that marred the nearly-serpentine form; John could only assume a second batlike sail was tucked beneath it, for the creature lay with its back facing his direction. All of it terminated in a tail that started thick near the rump and tapered off gracefully before the rest of it tumbled off the foot of the bed. The entire shape seemed covered in tiny, scintillating jewels of purple and blue… scales, he realized quickly as his sleep-bleary vision cleared. Speckled, riverlike patterns were formed from the scales: royal blue washed along the crested neck, between the wings, and down the spine, playing with mixed deep purple of increasing density toward the creature’s belly.

That was it. He had finally snapped. Two months of twelve hour days spent staring at two million lines of poorly-written Java had finally broken him. At least he had lasted this long, but there was no way what he was seeing was real. John knew *what* it was. It was a dragon, there in his bed, but since dragons did not exist, he was clearly hallucinating… so spectacularly, in fact, that he could hear the shallow, slow whoosh of sleeping breath spilling from the dragon’s nostrils.

Still shaken, John’s first reaction was to toss off the sheet and start rolling out of bed. He froze, then, when this woke the dragon: it shuddered once, then groaned, growled, and stretched. For something just longer than the bed was tall it was quite a stretch, accompanied with a lifting of that draconic head and a yawn that showed off dozens of wickedly sharp teeth and a long, tapered tongue that curled up on itself. The maw opened more than wide enough, John noted, to take a frighteningly large bite out of his head if it tried to go for him. The yawn ended in a purring growl in a feminine voice, the dragon taking its (her?) time waking. A breath later one eyelid slid open, revealing an amber orb that seemed to emit its own glow to match the rising sun.

The round pupil within dilated for half a second before focusing in on John’s frozen, transfixed form. A wash of tingling, lovely heat rolled down his spine as that tiny star regarded him. “Rrrm, good morning, John. I know what you dreamed,” she said in a sparkling, mellifluous voice that send tingles down his spine once more.

“W-what the hell?” he stammered.

The dragoness flicked her ears back against her skull and clicked her long tongue audibly in admonishment. “Now, now, that’s no way to speak to your Dream Guide. Don’t you recognize me?” she simpered, then rolled against the plush comforter on his bed in his direction and right onto her back. The four-legged sprawl was intensely revealing, and the wiggling she gave her hips only served to draw his wary gaze down to her spread hindlegs. Royal purple scales lined her belly, but they took on a deep blue blush right between her thighs where an intricate arrangement of smaller plates seemed to accentuate a pair of vertical slits down there. A longer one was centered right between the backs of her thighs, the smaller of the pair a few inches lower toward the base of her tail.

John felt himself take on an altogether different kind of blush. Was his hallucination hitting on him, this clumsily? Vague echoes of memory bubbled through his mind. He did know those colors, but only, “In my dreams…”

“Yes, yes, your dreams,” the dragon’s head bobbed. “Ithi’rak’eshk’talara at your service. You may call me Talara. We’ve been fucking nightly for the past three months,” Talara stated matter-of-factly. “Honestly, you corporeal critters need more presence of mind in your waking hours,” she turned her head to sweep his nearly naked form critically. “You’re not quite the same as your dream self, I’ll admit, but,” her voice tapered off for half a breath as her left forepaw shot out and stroked clawtips delicately down his waist until she could press at the very blatant tent his case of morning wood had erected out of his boxer briefs, “some things clearly haven’t changed, nmm?”

The touch should have had him jumping out of his skin, the bed, and his house! Her claws were sharp little needles at the tips, but the way she stroked over him, the way her soft pawpads felt through the fabric of his boxers spoke of a gentler touch than might be expected from such a predatory-looking beast. Something in the familiar, lilting way she spoke comforted him. “T-Talara? Am I still dreaming?”

Talara huffed and pushed her forepaw, pressing his arousal back against his own skin and forcing him to tense up with a sharp gasp. “Dreaming? Does it feel like you’re dreaming? As your official Dream Guide, it is my duty to inform you you’re not. What’s the best way to do that?”

John shuddered, his hips pressing into the dragoness’ touch. “Oh… no, it doesn’t,” he agreed, relaxing. He turned slightly to face the dragon in his bed. Crazy or not, he could go for this, as long as the asylum came with a dragoness.

“Good. You don’t look convinced, though,” Talara muttered, pulling her paw away from his crotch and rolling to face her back to him again. “Maybe I should go back where I came from.”

John paused. Oh hell no, he was not letting her go anywhere. He scooted closer and, hesitantly at first slipped his right arm beneath Talara’s chest, just below her forelegs. “Uhm… no, that’s ok. You can stay.” The dragoness huffed out a breath as John wrapped his arms around her upper belly to bring her smoothscaled back against his bare torso. She was just about his size, and her scales were lovely, warm to the touch, firm and smooth with an almost rubbery texture.

“Hah. I thought so,” Talara cast him a sly, sultry grin. It was almost frightening, her maw still just as full of tiny knives as it was moments before, but her lips seemed to pull up in a distinctly-human fashion. She pushed herself back against him, grinding the small of her back against his arousal, wiggling to jostle him about down there in a way that had John catching his breath again, heat rolling into his loins.

John squeezed both of the dragoness’ wings to her sides as he embraced her. His right arm was mostly pinned beneath her slight weight, but his left remained free. He stroked his hand down the scales of her chest and belly, revelling in the feel of the her breathing, in the rise and fall of her chest and the noticeable thudding of her heart. “You certainly feel pretty real,” he growled, his voice bearing a husky tinge. He leaned his head down until he could press his cheek against the back of her head, picking up the musky, spicy scent that seemed to emanate from her scales.

Talara growled back at him, wriggling her lithe form into his chest. Her tailbase arched right between his thighs, the muscular appendage kneading his balls gently while she pushed into his crotch with her lower hindleg, once more rubbing the material of his briefs against his swollen member. “I’ll show you how real I am, John,” she promised him, her voice punctuated with a deeper, rolling growl.

That provoked a mischievous smirk from him. “I think I’d prefer to do the exploring of a strange dream dragoness myself,” he insisted playfully. He tickled his hand down over her bellyscales until it slipped between her scaled thighs, kneading at the muscles defined by the sleek armor she bore. Talara growled again, curious, but when she saw where his hand was going she lifted her left hindleg, spreading her scaled thighs to expose herself to him. Curiously, John snuck his fingertips closer until they brushed against the scales protecting the dragoness’ sex; those were heated far more than the rest of her protection, and quite unlike proper protection they had already seemed to be parting on their own, exposing a shock of bright pink that contrasted sharply with the dark tone of her crotch scales.

The sight of the dragoness’ arousal almost made John groan, his fingers delicately tracing the rim of Talara’s anatomy… they picked up a slick, sticky sheen, a rivulet of damp draconic slickness painting her netherscales. The dragoness writhed in his grip as he drew his index finger along her slit, stroking as delicately over her exposed pussy as she had with her claws in his crotch. “Ah, skies, it’s better when I have a body,” she hissed sharply, her ears flat against her skull and her eyes closed. Her hindleg lifted higher, thighs spreading wider as her hips ground back into his.

Slowly, John teased his index finger past the outer lips of Talara’s sex, tracing the delicate petals of her flesh from the inside. Within a few moments he caught himself wondering just how similar to a human lover she might be, and half a thought later he was stroking along the slick, heated petals of her inner lips until a snarl and snap of Talara’s teeth told him he found what he sought. He teased at the dragoness’ clit, pulling it from her hood and smearing her own arousal against it for a moment before catching it between his index and middle finger. Was he seriously about to fingerbang a dragoness?

Yes, yes he was.

He tightened his grip on the cool-colored beauty in his bed; the additional stimulation to her clit had the dragoness squirming and tensing, the pawtoes on her hindlegs scrunching and relaxing. Her tail lashed between his thighs. “Oh! Too much! Too much!” she growled, though her last words tapered into a pleading, high-pitched whine accompanied with a tensing of her nethers, the dragoness’ cunny growing distinctly damper at his touch.

“Fine. I’ll have to explore somewhere else,” John murmured huskily, pushing his hips into her haunches to force her into his grip. At the same time he pushed his two fingers past the dragoness’ clit and hood and deep into her tunnel proper, spreading the taught grip down there about his fingers. It took some effort, but Talara arched and uttered a guttural moan, kicking her hindleg. Her inner muscles clenched on his fingers, mashing them together… /Shit, if she’s this tight with my fingers…/ John contemplated while the dragoness panted softly against him. A second later he was stroking his fingers back, tracing the entrance to her tunnel, working his palm against her hood to knead her own flesh back against her clit without directly touching it. She arched again as he slipped his fingers back into her pussy, probing deeper. He hovered there for a moment, stroking the circumference of her inner walls before repeating the motion, curling his fingers as he drew them free.

A wet schlurping filled the air as John began to stroke the dragoness off, coaxing more and more of her slick, damp arousal free until the much muskier, spicier scent of her heat filled the air. Talara bucked her hips in time with his hand, slow, jerking motions at first, but soon he had her practically humping into his touch. Her right forepaw clenched a pawful of the comforter as she rocked against him. “Nmmf, don’t… don’t stop,” the dragoness hissed deeply. Her tail wrapped about one of his legs, scales catching his skin here and there as it clamped down around him; it was nothing compared to the pressure inside the dragoness’ pussy, her inner muscles kissing and pushing at his fingers. Don’t stop? He could handle that, too. “I’m gonna…”

Suddenly, another memory from his dreams rose unbidden: his muzzle clamping down around the dragoness’ crest as he slammed into her, a gurgling moan issuing from her pliant form. Grinning to himself as the image faded and keeping the pace with his hand between her thighs, he growled, “Give up, dream dragoness,” and pushed his face against the back of her neck. He took the bony lead frill of her webbed crest between his teeth and bit down firmly; the hide that constructed the crest was tough, unyielding between his teeth, but the feral yowl that filled the room as he bit her told him it did the trick. Talara’s claws dug into the comforter, her tail tensed around his leg even tighter, and her hips bucked. Inside he felt her convulse around his fingers, the pressure building to a breaking point…

And then her entire body undulated, ending with another call from her arched throat and a buck of her hips against his hand. Her sex clamped down once more and a rush of messy, near-scalding dragoness femcum flooded out against John’s hand. Talara’s thrusting took on a desperate pace while her head tilted back and uttered a gurgling roar to punctuate her climax. The successive, uncontrolled taptap of her hips against his pumping fingers only served to make more of a sticky, slick mess down there of the scales of her thighs, her entire undertail, and John’s hand besides. He kept up the rhythm as best he could, using the dragoness’ own strength to keep his fingers stuffed deep in her cunny until finally with a shuddering gasp of breath the dragoness’ hips stilled.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Talara panted as she came down; a tug of her neck against his teeth pulled her crest free so she could turn her head to peer at him, eyes half-lidded. Her hips relaxed and her lifted hindleg dropped a few inches, but she kept herself spread for John’s fingers. “Nmmf, much better with an actual body, yiss,” the dragoness purred heavily at him. She arched her scaled form against his chest, rubbing her hips back against him while her nose bumped in close to his face to place a gentle, damp lick on his chin. “But it doesn’t solve your… problem.”

John groaned under his breath. If anything the feel of an orgasming dragoness against his body had made his arousal even worse, and the rubbing she was doing wasn’t helping. “You’re hungry for more, Talara?” he asked between a breathy chuckle or two. He slipped his fingers deeper into the dragoness’ slick sex, teasing at muscles that still clenched lightly with the aftershocks of her first climax. Talara snapped her teeth and hissed out in pleasure as he did; she was clearly still tender down there!

She clenched at him forcefully before shifting her lifted hindleg to push at his forearm and tug his hand from her nethers. “Hungry for you, yiss,” Talara agreed. She rolled then, all the way onto her back so she could spread herself out for his view again. “Don’t you want me?” she rowled, tail flicking back and forth over the foot of the bed.

The view between the dragoness’ thighs was nothing short of delicious to John in his lust-driven state. With her thighs spread wide and her tail draped off the end of the bed, very little was left to the imagination: the larger of the dragoness’ slits was spread wide with her own arousal, the soft pink of her slickened pussy glistening in the dim morning light. A fair few of the blue and purple scales around her sex were soaked with the results of her climax with a thin little stream of it drooling down one side of her tailbase and onto his bed. He was going to have to wash his linens after this…

John pulled his hand out from beneath her and propped himself up on it, trailing its damp brother up the dragoness’ tummy and drawing a dark line across her scales. He brought the still-wet hand to his nose and breathed in the musky scent of her climax. There was something familiar to it, another sensual tingle running down his spine at the thought of just how horny the dreamy dragoness was for him.

After a moment he reached out and smeared the dampness across the dragoness’ nose, earning him a snort… and then a long drag of her tongue between his fingers! The muscle was finely pointed and roughly textured; she wrapped it about his hand for a moment before lapping gently at his palm, growling deeply enough that he could feel it rumbling through the bed. Talara’s hips wiggled insistently, tail lashing around to give his rump a smack. “Ah! Alright, alright, I’ll give you what you want, dream dragon,” John laughed.

“Better,” purred Talara as her tongue snaked back into her muzzle, lips smacking softly. Naughty thing, she seemed to revel in the taste and scent of her own arousal. She turned her head to peer at his hand when he reached down to tug the hem of his boxer briefs, pulling them down his hips. In one quick, smooth motion John slid them free, plucking them off one ankle and tossing them onto the floor to leave his body completely exposed to the dragoness. Six and a half inches of cock throbbed down there; he was not the most well-endowed man, but Talara did not seem to mind as she pressed a forepaw down his waist and into his crotch with a purr. Deft pawfingers wrapped about the pulsing length, a single opposable digit like a thumb on the dragoness’ paw letting her get a firm grip and stroke slowly down his anatomy.

He groaned and shifted himself, rolling onto his hands and knees atop Talara. The dragoness emitted a soft churr up at him, paw slipping from his crotch to his chest while he moved back to straddle the base of her tail with his knees. She assumed a position that John could almost have called cute were the situation different: wings half spread across the bed, forepaws tucked up against her chest and hindlegs spread wide and lazy, almost puppy like in the way she wiggled. John sucked in a shuddering breath as he looked over her form spread out before him, particularly the wet dragoness cunny on display between her thighs; the way the dragoness arched her haunches up at him, scaled tail flexing between his knees only made him all the more eager to sate her need.

John braced one palm midway down Talara’s tummy. The other wrapped about the base of his cock, his hips shifted, and he angled himself down until the blunt head nudged against the slick lips of the dragoness’ sex. He gasped at the feel of her heated arousal at the tip of his dick, far more warm than she had felt on his fingers and riding the line between pleasant and painful. He hesitated for a moment and Talara growled, her neck pulled back so she could angle her head down to watch him expectantly. The bare-toothed snap of her muzzle in his direction along with a small, demanding buck of her hips up at him made it clear she wasn’t giving him an option even sprawled out on her back as she was. He had to fuck this dragon, or she seemed intent on getting bitey at him!

Brushing the slight worry about her heat out of his mind, he narrowed his eyes at Talara. A quick, hard push of his hips had them both gasping as he drove the head of his cock down into the dragoness. She spread easily around his girth at first, the slick outer and delicate inner lips of her cunny wrapping about him. “Oh, fuck,” John hissed out between gritted teeth as he hit the dragoness’ tunnel proper, the enveloping heat of her pussy clenching down on his spire even harder than it had on his fingers! She was hot, but not hot enough to hurt him after all, and that realization only made him more bold.

While Talara flatted her earfrills back on her head and gave off a gurgling, heavy purr of pleasure he thrusted into the dragoness all at once until his balls slapped down on the scales between her spread sex and the smaller slit further back. Talara clenched the her hindpaws and arched her tailbase, pushing into him and drawing him all the deeper. “Yesss,” the dragoness hissed sibilantly. She worked the silken smooth muscles of her tunnel around John’s cock, beckoning him deeper, squeezing hard enough that he gasped out and drove his hips down at her again. That coaxed a snarling whine from his draconic lover; he could feel the sopping mess of her pussy collecting on his balls, he was so deep! She didn’t ask for him to stop after that whine, instead resuming the messy clenching of her muscles and cheekily hunching her hips at him once more.

Things became a heated blur after that. John tugged his hips from Talara’s a few inches before thrusting at her again, and the dragoness did nothing more than buck her hips into his crotch, squeezing and tugging at his rigid member to coax him deeper. He shifted his hand from her crotch to her left thigh, pushing that leg wide as he picked up a smooth, carnal rhythm that had both him and Talara panting in short order. Hips ground against haunches, skin slipped along scales, and the air filled with the damp sound of wet flesh on flesh each time John thrusted into that needy draconic sex.

To his surprise, Talara was still the first to let go. She cried out his name and writhed upward against him, one forepaw pushing at his shoulder. Her inner muscles clamped down hard and a slick, messy rush of dragoness femcum flooded from her pussy, practically soaking John’s balls. He rushed to catch up… the feel of her spasming silken walls and the sound of her calling out his name between a desperate, happy snarl sent him right over the edge! “Ahhn! Talara!” John gasped out, hips slamming into the dragoness, the first eager moneyshot hitting the dragoness at his deepest point. His thrusting picked up double time as he came inside the needy dragoness pinned atop his bed until his climax was spent.

The dragoness shudder as she came down a moment before him, flopping her head into one of his pillows. Her maw was parted and her tongue lolled off to the side, eyes closed; the slender tummy beneath him heaved for breath as she wallowed in the afterglow. John’s orgasm tapered off quickly, leaving him gasping, his cock buried deep in the dragoness’ puss. He moaned softly, “Oh, jeez, Talara that was…” and leaned himself forward, both hands settling on the bed to the beside the dragoness’ shoulders, “amazing. God, where did you come from?”

His only response was a short growl, a wiggle of hips that had him tensing as she jostled his climax-sensitive dick about inside her, and a dismissive flick of the closest earfrill. Too exhausted and reluctant to ruin the moment, John sighed and closed his eyes, settling himself belly to belly with a dragoness he desperately hoped was more than just a figment of his imagination.

Maybe dreams did come true?