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The Dream	By : elementalram Category: +M through R > Professor Layton and the Curious Village Views: 1554 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Professor Layton series, and do not profit from it in any way.

Chapter List
- 1-The Party
- 2-Bonus
- 1
- 2
Hershel jolted awake and shot straight up. He looked around the familiar, dark room, puzzled for a moment. He was on the couch in his office, not a bed, and certainly not in any mansion. His jacket, which often used as a blanket, was crumpled in a heap on the floor next to his shoes and a pile of books.
He was still breathing heavily. Was it really only a dream?
He violently rubbed his tired eyes with a fist, flustered and thoroughly embarrassed at such a thought. Of course it was a dream! Claire had already passed by the time he met Emmy. Plus, he would never end up... in a situation like that....
The clock on the wall read twenty minutes to five; the birds outside were chirping but the sun had not yet begun its ascent. Hershel Layton flopped back down onto the couch in the dark room, his eyes closed and brow furrowed.
That his subconscious mind would ruminate so deeply and in such detail over such carnal machinations was, quite frankly, disturbing! And yet, he was finding it difficult to push the thought out of his mind.
To have such a tantalizingly titillating tête-à-tête with those two women.... He closed his eyes, trying to recall each detail as though it were a memory, not a fantasy. They really would have liked each other had they met, he thought. He felt heat rise to his face.
He felt heat pool in another part of his body also. He opened his eyes; to his chagrin, evidence of his lecherous thoughts had manifested as a rather large bulge in his pants.
Humiliated, his eyes flicked towards the door. It was locked, right? Nobody would be visiting this early, anyways. And it was Saturday, so even the maintenance staff was all undoubtedly tucked snugly into their beds at home.
Be that as it may.... He turned back towards the ceiling and closed his eyes again, hoping neglect would be the solution to this problem.
But... did he really have an... an anal fantasy? He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, his eyebrows knitted together. And a threesome, really? Or was it just those two women who turned him on so fiercely? And... public sex? Is it public if it's not your house? He frowned. Whatever it is, it's still a problem that should never be entertained!
He reached up above his head with one hand. His hat was there on his head where it should be, a calming force whenever he needed. As he touched the soft fabric of its brim he sighed, feeling his tension fade.
There was no need to question himself. His dream meant only that he hadn't engaged in intercourse for some time. Nothing more or less to be deciphered there.
Resigned to the fact he would not be falling asleep again soon, he reached over the edge of the couch and retrieved a book and his jacket, re-draping the latter over himself. The book was a new one, written by a colleague of a friend whom had requested he check it out. It was about the history of the ethnic groups based in and around Uganda, and was a fascinating read.
It was still rather dark in the room, however. He drew the book close to his nose, and the sweet scent of a new print played in his nostrils. It reminded him of... Claire. He closed his eyes. Her scent. He drew in another breath. When he held her close, embraced her tight, he could bury his face in her neck and smell that sweet scent. He could almost hear her laughter, as she would always do when he nuzzled her neck. She really would have liked Emmy though, they would have made great friends. They undoubtedly would have done everything together. Hiking, cooking, errands, shopping... him....
He inhaled sharply and opened his eyes, his face flush with embarrassment again. With a thud he closed his book and set it on the ground. Finally defeated, he lifted his arms and took off his hat, twisting his torso to set it down on another pile of books out of sight behind the couch. He settled back down and took one last glance at the door, halfway expecting Chelmey or the like to barge in and take him away. When he didn't, his mind instead pictured Claire and Emmy coming through that door together after completing their Christmas shopping. They would be telling jokes, laughing.... He would have them both, right here, over his desk or against a bookshelf. They would team up and pin him to the sofa, lust in their eyes as they had their way.
He stroked the inside of his thigh, as Claire had done in his dream. It jumped at the touch. He traced a finger along and around it, as she had done. He pressed against it with the palm of his hand and felt a shiver run through his body.
Precum was starting to spread in the fabric. He undid his belt buckle, as Emmy had done in his dream, then pulled down the zipper and carefully pulled his throbbing erection free from his pants and boxer briefs.
He gripped the top with one hand and rubbed his thumb against the sensitive slit. More precum dribbled out, and he used the extra lubricant to stroke the head and top of the shaft. With the other hand, he gripped the base, trapping blood inside and making it throb harder than before.
The more he pumped, the more aroused he became, and so more precum spilled forth. This in turn allowed him to pump more, harder.
He closed his eyes and rolled his head to one side, trying to stifle a moan into the side of the couch.
He was vigorously pumping with both hands now, imagining Claire on one side and Emmy on the other. They would lick up his shaft together, they would take turns taking him deep into their throats. They would grab his balls, Emmy would then.... He touched his perineum with the hand that was cupping and massaging himself. He stroked it, rubbed it, then ventured a little lower.
His breathing shallow, his whole body felt aflame as he neared his climax. He raised one leg over the back of the couch to grant himself better access and prodded at the hole with the tip of a finger. He pictured Emmy using the excess seminal fluid to coat her fingers, and ram them into him.
He cried out and arched his back as a huge load of cum hit the back of the chair, spraying upwards towards the ceiling. Another thick rope trailed behind it, and another after that. Layton finally collapsed, completely drained and gasping for air.
He lay there, panting and savoring the warmth. The familiar sound of the morning rush hour was now keenly audible. After a few minutes, he opened an eye to survey the damage. His hands were sloppy with the viscous white fluid, and as he tried to wipe them on his shirt, he discovered that it was in the same condition. The couch, a nearby display case, and even the ceiling had all fallen victim.
Layton groaned. He supposed he should run home and take a shower. He didn't have any lectures today, but there were a couple of office meetings scheduled. Well, perhaps he would just reschedule them for another day. It was Saturday, after all. With that thought competed, he closed his eyes and drifted contentedly back to sleep.
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