At first, he’d been nothing more than a ghostly shadow, invading her dreams occasionally. As the years went by, his visits became more frequent, and he became more and more solid in every way – his hands, his taut abdomen and highly defined muscles across his chest (actually, everywhere – he was built like Rambo), the scent of him … oh, the scent of him! Why she zoned in on that every time he appeared was beyond her. She could only guess that her subconscious was more kinky than she’d like to admit. You’d think she’d have gotten used to it over the years, but no – her mind still liked to throw her for a loop every now and again. At first, when these dreams had begun, she’d been so horribly embarrassed. Did other teenagers have dreams like this? A quick look through some girly magazines assured her they did, but she wasn’t convinced, and the one time she’d tried to bring it up with one of the other girls at school, she’d been laughed at and teased. She’d quickly learnt never to mention it to anyone after that.
