The Ghosts of Boyfriends Past - Part 1

An intricately carved pumpkin with a joyful-looking smile sat on Dr. Milford's desk and each time Charlotte glanced at it she felt just a touch of happiness. She wondered if the pumpkin had been placed there purposefully to try and bring a little joy to each and every client that glanced at it.

"Charlotte?"

She wondered if Dr. Milford had carved it or if someone else - her husband or daughter, perhaps - had been responsible for it.

"Charlotte?"

Charlotte turned to see a look of gentle concern on her therapist's face. "Yes. Sorry."

Dr. Milford paused for a moment and said, "You drifted off, there. What were you thinking about?"

Charlotte nodded towards the pumpkin. "That pumpkin, actually. Did you carve it? Did someone else carve it? Do you put it there to try and bring a little joy to people who see that big smile?"

Dr. Milford glanced at the pumpkin and then back at Charlotte. "What were you really thinking about? Or, more accurately, what are you trying your best not to think about?"

She was good. Very good. Charlotte had been in some form of therapy for the past five years, mostly because it's what everyone in her social circle seemed to do. Her sessions with Dr. Milford were the first to ever feel like they were helping her, though.

"When you drift off during a session, it's usually because there's something you don't want to talk about," Dr. Milford continued.

Charlotte closed her eyes, reached up, and rubbed her temples. "I feel like I'm being haunted," she admitted.

"Haunted?"

Charlotte opened her eyes to see genuine curiosity on her therapist's face. That made sense, though. It likely wasn't often that an otherwise healthy patient announced that they were being haunted.

"In my dreams," Charlotte clarified. "For the past...I don't know, two weeks or so. Every single night I have a remarkably similar dream. Sometimes multiple times a night. I took a nap this past Saturday and I wasn't out for more than half an hour, and yet the dream happened again."

Dr. Milford's pen hovered over her pad as she asked, "What sort of dream?"

Charlotte crossed her legs and smoothed out her skirt. She looked down at her hands and noticed a small chip in the polish on one of her nails. She glanced at her toes and noted a few chips in the polish as well. Charlotte almost never left the house with such obvious imperfections in her appearance and she couldn't help but be bothered.

"I'm not sleeping well because of it...because of the dreams," she said.

Dr. Milford said nothing as an uncomfortable silence fell over the office where she held her sessions.

Charlotte sat in the silence for as long as she could stand before blurting out, "They're sex dreams. I'm having sex dreams."

There was just a hint of confusion on her therapist's face before she asked, "Sex dreams are perfectly normal. Men certainly talk about them more, but women are just as likely to have a sex dream as men are."

Charlotte looked down at her hands once more as she said, "I know. But these are so specific. In each and every sex dream I've had over the past two weeks, I'm having sex with an ex-boyfriend. And it's not the kind of, well, dreamlike dream. It's so vivid. It's so real. It's like...it's like it's actually happening. It's...it's..."

She trailed off, but this time Dr. Milford stepped in. "And these dreams are new? As in, prior to the past two weeks you didn't dream like this?"

Charlotte nodded. "Yes. They started right at the beginning of October. I know it's not abnormal to dream about sex, but it feels abnormal for every dream to feature an ex-boyfriend - none have featured my fiancée, for what it's worth - and for the sex to be...to be...I mean, for the sex to be really good. Like, in the dreams, it's really, really good."

"Why do you say it feels like you're being haunted?" Dr. Milford asked before scribbling a note on her pad. "Sex dreams are usually something that people enjoy, and yet you seem genuinely distressed."

Charlotte smoothed out her skirt once more, though this time she was well aware it was a small attempt to both sooth and distract herself just a little.

"It feels like a betrayal," she said. "I'm lying in bed next to Reese, next to the man I'm going to marry next June and I'm having these vivid, intensely pleasurable dreams about other men. I'm a few feet away from the man I plan on being monogamous with and yet I'm...I mean, fuck, the things that are going on in these dreams, the things I'm saying, the things I'm doing, the things the guys are doing to me, it feels like a betrayal. Which is why it feels like something my brain couldn't possibly be conjuring. Why it feels like I'm being haunted, like some otherworldly force has invaded my consciousness."

Dr. Milford tapped her pen against the notepad and studied Charlotte for a few seconds before looking down at the paper and asking, "You recognize the men in the dreams?"

Charlotte nodded. "I do. They're all ex-boyfriends."

"How many different men?"

"Six so far," she answered.

"And you had a sexual relationship with each man?" Dr. Milford asked.

Charlotte was surprised to feel her lips curl into a slight smile. "I did, yes."

"Is the sex in the dreams similar to how it was when you were with these ex-boyfriends?"

Despite the volume of sex dreams she'd had, Charlotte hadn't considered that particular question. "You know, it's similar. The sex in the dreams, that is. It's similar to how it was when we dated. The dreams are...wilder, I guess. Like, it's an amplified version of what it was with the guy when we dated."

"If it feels too invasive you can feel free to not answer, but could you be more specific?" Dr. Milford asked. "I only ask because it might be helpful to know if there's a connection - or a theme, I suppose - to what makes the sex in the dreams wilder than it was in reality."

Charlotte thought of the dream she'd had the night before. Her ex-boyfriend Dave - who she'd dated in college - had been fucking her from behind in the dream. They'd been in what felt like a hotel room and she was on her hands and knees looking out these beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows while he took her doggystyle. They'd fucked like that in college, but in the dream the sex was a great deal more vigorous. Almost aggressive. He'd had a handful of her hair. He'd been spanking her ass. There'd been all sorts of dirty talk about how much she liked his cock, how good it felt when he took her from behind.

"In the dream I had last night, the guy was much more aggressive than he'd been in real life," she explained.

Charlotte quickly ran through some of the other dreams she'd had and the same theme kept appearing. The sex was always similar to what she'd experienced with the guy, but he was an amped up version of himself. He was more confident, more aggressive, in some cases downright dominant.

"Actually, I think that's the case with every dream. All of the guys that have showed up in my dreams have been confident and a little bit aggressive - or take charge - in bed, but in the dreams that stuff is really amplified," she said.

"And Reese? Is he like that?" Dr. Milford asked.

Right to the point. As always. It was a good question, though. It was probably the only question that really mattered, which would explain why it hadn't occurred to Charlotte to ask it.

"No, he's not like that," Charlotte answered. "He's...he's sweet, and gentle, but I suppose it would be accurate to say that he's also kind of passive in bed. Or, I guess, he likes me to take the lead. If I want him to go harder or faster, he'll do it, but he doesn't really seem to enjoy being the one that takes charge."

Charlotte sat back and took a deep breath. She'd always thought of her sex life with Reese as good, even excellent. Not once had she felt even a slight need to complain and not once had she felt as though he had any shortcomings when it came to meeting her sexual needs. Was it possible she was wrong? Or was there something else going on?

"When you wake up from these dreams, are you aroused?" Dr. Milford asked.

"Yes," Charlotte answered without hesitation. She thought of the dream she'd had during her nap on Saturday afternoon. Of how her ex-boyfriend Kai had been pounding her in missionary style, of how vigorous and deep the sex had felt, of how hard she'd cum in her dream. The moment she woke from it Charlotte had slipped a hand into her panties and masturbated. She'd cum in less than thirty seconds. "Actually, after I had one of those dreams during a nap I...I masturbated. I was turned on enough that I climaxed really, really quickly."

Dr. Milford put her notepad on the coffee table in front of her, crossed her legs, and said, "It's not talked about very often, but there's a not all that uncommon phenomena of women desiring a certain kind of sexual encounter just prior to their marriage. Some women actually indulge in that desire, though most simply let it stay a fantasy."

"What sort of encounter are we talking about?"

Dr. Milford smiled slightly, adjusted her glasses, and said, "The sort that almost always involves a strong, aggressive, dominant male. An alpha male, if you will. The kind of man that can make a woman feel taken, for lack of a better word. The kind of man whose strength and desire damn near subsumes a woman, but in doing so provides her with a very particular kind of...well, of primal pleasure."

That sounded very much like the dreams Charlotte was having.

"In the modern world, though, those men are less attractive as husbands. They're seen - whether it's accurate or not - as more likely to cheat or abandon a woman, especially as she ages. I imagine that's why your dreams include more aggressive versions of your ex-boyfriends. You've amplified the alpha male qualities they possessed and unleashed them on your subconscious in what seems like a fairly safe way of expressing a desire for a very particular kind of sex," Dr. Milford explained.

"I'm not getting married for eight months. Am I going to be having these dreams for another eight months?" Charlotte asked.

There was a touch of sympathy in Dr. Milford's eyes as she answered, "I'm not sure. It's possible, but it's also possible that your brain is just working through something that it will be done within a week or two."

Charlotte moved to smooth out her skirt once more but clenched her fists instead as a sense of frustration washed over her. "I meant it when I said it felt like I was being haunted. I wasn't just being dramatic. The dreams turn me on. It feels good when I'm having them, and I did masturbate that one time. But mostly it's torturous. Mostly I feel like I'm being the worst fiancée in the world, like I'm cheating on Reese."

Dr. Milford stared at Charlotte intently for what felt like an impossibly long time before asking, "It's not unusual to feel guilty about this sort of thing. It's just a dream, but it feels so vivid that it's perfectly understandable that you'd experience a sense of guilt. Have you tried talking to Reese about it? That might unburden you of some of the guilt."

"Oh, no, I couldn't...I mean, I couldn't do that. That would be...that would be awful of me. I couldn't do that to him."

"Why?" Dr. Milford asked.

"I couldn't tell Reese that I was having better sex with my ex-boyfriends in my dreams," Charlotte blurted out before putting a hand over her mouth as a deep sense of guilt washed over her. She felt her face redden and suddenly the skin on her chest felt hot. "That's...I shouldn't have said that."

"You can - and should - say anything you want in here, Charlotte. This is a safe space to unburden yourself of your feelings, whatever those feelings might be," Dr. Milford assured her. "And it's also possible that you just got to the crux of the issue. Perhaps you're actually more concerned than you let on about the future of your sex life with Reese?"

Charlotte's eyes welled up with emotion as she shook her head. "I don't know. I love him so much. I want to marry him. I was so excited when he proposed. I've been planning the wedding for four months and I'm so excited about it, about starting a life with him, about all of it. How could I be that excited but also be so deeply concerned about this very important part of our life together?"

"Well, Charlotte, to be honest, you wouldn't be the first woman to put sexual satisfaction a little lower on the list of relationship priorities," Dr. Milford replied with a gentle smile. "In fact, I'd say that most women do that very thing because, in reality, there are other qualities in a man that are much more important. His ability to be a good father, for instance. His willingness to treat you with kindness and warmth. The sort of man that provides the kind of sex you've been dreaming about often struggles with the tasks of fatherhood and being a good husband."

"So...if these dreams just keep happening, what do I do?" Charlotte asked.

"You could talk to Reese about them," Dr. Milford replied. "He might be more understanding than you'd think, though that's certainly a risk. There might be some wisdom in masturbating, to be honest. It's a really good way to quickly dissipate the build up of desire that happens while you're dreaming and it might also help ameliorate your sense of guilt."

Charlotte had thoroughly enjoyed the orgasm she'd experienced on Saturday, though it hadn't done much to help with the sense of guilt she felt.

Dr. Milford uncrossed her legs, leaned forward, and took her glasses off. She set them on the coffee table, smiled as she looked at Charlotte, and said, "I went through this same thing, Charlotte. Before I got married."

"Really?" she asked as her therapist revealed more in one sentence than she had in months of sessions. "What did you do?"

Dr. Milford leaned back, rested her hands on the wooden arms of her chair, closed her eyes for just a moment, and confessed, "I surrendered to my desires. I was 24 at the time. I was young and impulsive. I'd just started my post-graduate degree and was working as a barista. I'd gotten engaged two months prior. I'd been grappling with the same feelings you're having."

She took a deep breath and Charlotte saw both a look of guilt and the slightest smile on her therapist's face.

"A guy came in to the coffee shop. An alpha male type. Oozing confidence. A really charming smile. A tall, strong body. I swear he eyed every single woman in the store before getting to the register to order. After he'd ordered, he smiled and asked if I'd put my number on the cup along with his name."

Charlotte smiled. It was a bold, confident move on that young man's part. "Did you?"

Dr. Milford nodded. "It was like I'd lost my mind. But yes, I gave him my number. I told myself I did it just for fun, that at most he'd send a few flirty texts and it would be thrilling to receive them."

"Is that not what happened?"

Dr. Milford laughed softly. "He texted. He was flirty. He was charming, too. I texted back. We kept it up for a few weeks. Multiples times a day, each and every day. Then he asked for a naughty picture of me while I was at work. This was a few years after the iPhone was released so it was easy to take pictures, and for some reason, I went to the bathroom and took a picture with my shirt up and my pants lowered to show my underwear. In response he sent me a picture of him in his underwear, only he was hard and it was very obvious."

Charlotte found herself leaning forward as a surprising sense of excitement coursed through her body.

"My fiancée and I had just moved in together and yet I couldn't help myself. I went from sending him pictures of me in my underwear to topless pictures and then nudes. He always managed to convince me to get a little bit wilder with each new picture. Soon enough I was sending him full nudes of me masturbating. I even took a few of me having an orgasm while thinking about him. It was such a betrayal of my fiancée, and yet I'm not sure I'd ever been so turned on," she continued.

Charlotte was stunned at Dr. Milford's honesty, though it also felt like an act of kindness as hearing that another woman had experienced the exact same kind of sexual confusion soon after her engagement went a long way to soothing Charlotte's concerns.

"Then one day he texted while I was at work and asked if he could take me out to lunch," Dr. Milford said. "I said yes without even thinking about it. When lunch came around he rolled up in his car and I left with him. We didn't make it to the restaurant, though."

Charlotte's eyebrows leapt up in surprise. "What happened?"

"He kissed me at the first stop light. The moment his lips hit mine there was this burst of desire that ripped through me. I kissed him back. Then I reached over and went for...well, I felt him through his pants. I felt what I'd seen in the pictures he'd sent me," she explained. "Someone honked their horn and the kiss ended as he hit the gas. I'd pulled my hand away, but he took it and placed it between his legs again. He told me how badly he wanted me. He told me that he thought about me all the time. He told me that he wanted me to make him feel good."

It wasn't until that very moment that Charlotte realized she was turned on. It wasn't just a mild sense of arousal, either. It was intense. Her loins felt like they were pulsating with her heartbeat and there was no question in her mind that a significant sense of wetness had formed between her legs.

"Did you?" Charlotte asked.

Dr. Milford looked away, bit her lip for a moment, and nodded. "I did. Right there in the car. I unzipped his pants, pulled him out, and went down on him. It was not the kind of thing I did. It was not the kind of thing I'd ever done for my fiancée, and yet there I was doing it for this guy I barely knew."

"How did it...sorry if this is just too much or way too personal, but how did it feel?" Charlotte asked.

"Good," Dr. Milford answered with a smile. "I can't explain why - I don't exactly love giving blowjobs - but in that moment it felt good. I can still mostly remember that feeling, to be honest. It was just so...so vivid, so potent. Kind of like how you describe your dreams. As I was doing it, the car slowed and came to a stop. When I looked up I saw that he'd pulled into a massive mall parking lot. He'd found a space tucked away in a corner and he had this smile on his face."

"Did you...did he...?"

She nodded. "We had sex in his backseat. I was on top. I completely surrendered to my desire. I didn't think about my fiancée at all. I didn't think about anything other than what I wanted in that moment."

Charlotte was astonished at how turned on she felt. She wasn't sure if Dr. Milford was a good storyteller or if Charlotte was living vicariously as she imagined doing exactly as her therapist had done, but she was turned on. "How...how was it? The sex, I mean."

"It was great," Dr. Milford replied. "It was genuinely great. Sex in a car almost never is, but this was genuinely great. I only had sex with him once, but it was good enough that I still remember almost exactly how it felt."

Charlotte sat back and experienced just a touch of the sensations that usually washed over her after an orgasm. It looked like Dr. Milford was in the midst of a very similar experience.

"You know, I'm not sure why I told you that," Dr. Milford said as she suddenly looked rather embarrassed.

"I'm glad you did," Charlotte replied. "I really am. It's nice to know that I'm not alone. I really think that's a part of what's been so difficult about this for me. I just feel like I'm alone and that I'm really just a terrible fiancée for letting these thoughts into my head, and for surrendering to them and masturbating that one time."

Dr. Milford smiled. "You're not alone, Charlotte. You're far from alone. I promise. And for what it's worth, I never strayed again. I've never even wanted to. I did actually manage to get it out of my system. I can't in good conscience recommend that you try and do the same thing, of course, because it might very well destroy your relationship, but I've been happily married for 11 years now."

"Thank you, Dr. Milford. Truly, thank you. I can't tell you how helpful this has been," Charlotte said.

The session ended soon afterwards. Charlotte confirmed her next appointment, gathered her things, and headed for her car. She sat behind the wheel, checked to make sure no one else was around, and pulled up Instagram. She made her way to Kai's feed, reached under her skirt, and slipped a hand into her panties.

A world of pleasure enveloped Charlotte as she scrolled through Kai's pictures. He looked exceptionally good - he'd always been in good shape and he appeared to be working even harder to stay that way - and Charlotte couldn't help but recreate the dream she'd had.

"Fuck me, Kai," she said softly as visions of him pounding her with incredible vigor filled her head. "Fuck me harder. Fuck...take my pussy, Kai. Take it and make it yours."

Charlotte stared at a shirtless picture of her ex-boyfriend and came. She came hard. Harder than she'd cum while masturbating on Saturday. She closed her eyes and moaned as the pleasure got so intense that it nearly overwhelmed her.

A smile crossed Charlotte's face as that post-orgasmic relaxation and happiness washed over her. She set her phone down, fixed her skirt, and rested her hands on the steering wheel.

Maybe, instead of her haunting being a bad thing, Charlotte's dream visitations from her ex-boyfriends were a good thing. Maybe they intended on bringing her nothing but pleasure. Maybe the smart approach was to embrace her haunting and to experience a whole new kind of satisfaction as the result of the spirits invading her dreams.

That was certainly a better plan than surrendering to guilt, so Charlotte was going to give it a try.