A Tale of Dreaming Minds and Dreaming Hearts

DynamicsTaken from:  The Dynamic Story

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here is a reflection made by a dreaming heart of a dreaming mind as a novelist named Hank listened on.

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A Tale of Dreaming Minds and Dreaming Hearts

“Somewhere in between Dreaming Minds and Dreaming Hearts, you discover that one thing …,” Adam stated, his eyes drifting back in memory.
“What one thing?” Hank asked, readying his pen to write down what Adam said next.

“I’ve heard it said the key to happiness comes down to just one thing and that one thing will be different for each individual,” Adam answered. “In due time, we all discover what that means for each of us. Sometimes, it can be revealed in the most unusual, yet most comforting of ways…”
——————————————————————-

I sat at the desk of a hotel room. But my head wasn’t thinking of work or of anything other than Eve. And I was fixated on the angel asleep on the hotel bed across the room.

As if fate and Lady Luck had struck a deal, that girl and I found each other. We were perfect opposites – a Daddy and a BabyGirl. How I got so lucky I only have theories to explain. But whatever the reason, the one thing I knew for sure was that this was all real. We were a couple and fast I was falling in love with her.

I remember just sitting there, looking over at her, asleep on the bed. She was wearing nothing more than her diaper, a pink t-shirt and a pair of pink-n-white striped fuzzy socks. She was beautiful, and the glow of the moonlit sky which peeked through the partially-drawn venetian blinds, mixed with the light shining out of the bathroom, gave that whole room the radiance of fantasy, magic and affection for the dreams we both harbored in our souls for the right moment and the right person with whom to share them.
I had known her about a month at this point. We began as email-ers. Then we moved to IM chats and straight into our first phone call in one night. In a matter of no time, I visited her and now had returned for the second time, just five days later.

Looking back on it now, I can still only attempt to put to words how much the thought of her saturated my sense of being, captivated my days and nights, and how my life had seemingly changed, without any big ado, but rather as if it were naturally supposed to have happened right then. My entire life before meeting her seemed as if it were all preparation for her arrival. I had never really known love before her, at least not to the magnitude I felt it when consumed by her essence.

And there she laid, the BabyGirl whom I was supposed to meet, for whom I was supposed to fall in love with a swiftness that turned it into a need, rather than just a passion.

Her frame only covered a portion of one side of the bed and she had contorted her position to find maximum physical comfort while sleeping. Unfortunately, she still hadn’t found that maximum comfort and she kept shifting.

I studied her from across the hotel room, standing up and taking in the sight of her. Her smoothly shaven legs jumped out at me first. Her thighs, so tender and soft in appearance, made me follow their length to her knees, to her ankles and those silly, pinkish socks. Oh my, how she loved the color pink. She would have one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee. Then she would flip over onto her back and bend both knees, joining her feet together at the soles. It was all a part of that quest to find that perfect comfort.

Her skin was so tanned and so soft to touch. It contrasted the gleaming white diaper wrapped around her waist and between. Directly above the diaper was more contrasting tanned skin as her tummy was showing thanks to the pink t-shirt having been shifted up her body during her many tosses and turns. She had so many beautiful little features about her. Beyond her personality and cheery smile and the way she carried herself was … her body and how she took care of it. It showed a pride in how she looked and that reflected back to everything non-physical about her.

The pink t-shirt had this little bluish or purplish grape-looking cartoon character on it. And he was smiling. Why wouldn’t he be? He was happily position on the shirt between her breasts. I won’t go into detail about how they looked. Some mental pictures about this story belong to me and me alone. Let me simply say: she was breath-taking.

Her arms were bent at the elbows, and in her present sleeping position, her hands drew up towards her face. Her right hand I believe was stretched back and resting underneath the back of her neck. Her left hand was balled up into a soft fist she nuzzled against the side of her face. She looked adorable, resting like that. And though they weren’t visible at that moment, her fingernails were often painted pink, too. But I don’t believe they were painted on that day.

And then there was her hair, layered with that light brunette shade. Its length went part way down her back and somehow, she managed to keep it all out of her face, regardless of the sleeping position she was experimenting with at that point.
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“I had arrived at the hotel the afternoon of the day prior, conked almost immediately and remained asleep until a knock came at the door. I got up and stumbled to the door, partially asleep still, but it was when I looked through the peep hole and saw her standing there that my heart began to race with happiness I would soon become accustomed to feeling at every first sight I had of her on each trip,” Adam recalled, pausing from the reflections of his story as the waitress brought them another round of drinks. “I snapped fully awake and yanked the door open. Before the doorknob had left my hand, we had embraced. And before the door had latched itself shut again, that happiness had grown to a scorching desire to make the most of every minute I had with her. I planted her to the wall, then on the bed and well … you get the idea.”

“Yeah, I do,” Hank replied. “Keep telling me the story.”
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I quietly walked up to the edge of the bed and sat down, putting my hand on the blanket aside of her and leaning forward to admire those tiny little features about her face you could only see when up close. Each one of them made her unique, from her chiseled eyebrows I traced with my fingertips to those eyelids she touched off with the right shades of shadow for pinpoint outline to the eye-lined edges underneath her lashes which sharpened focus on her eyes to the calmed cheeks of her face I stroked gently. She was a beautiful, beautiful girl. And she was so relaxed at that moment, except for her lips, subconsciously searching for her pacifier which had fallen free a short while ago.

I followed the string that attached her pacifier to the collar of her pink shirt. But the pacifier itself had slipped behind her neck and was being clasped by her right hand. I looked over to the coffee table we had pushed up to the foot of the bed, hoping to find another one on it, but there wasn’t one there.

I smiled, taking a moment to reflect on the reason why there was a jigsaw puzzle of Cinderella sitting on that coffee table, completed and perfectly centered. She spent a bit of time earlier that night, having put it together. She lied on her belly on the bed and worked on that puzzle until it was done. I remember crawling up behind her and kissing her cheek as I produced my camera, snapping a few shots of the two of us.

It was a sweet memory, but one that didn’t help me find another pacifier for her for the moment. But as if the solution was always supposed to present itself when the time was right, she whimpered a bit and stretched her arms, allowing the pacifier to fall from her right hand. I picked it up and returned it to her lips.
She would twinge for a moment, like her muscles had tensed. Then she relaxed her body once more as a big smile formed behind her pacifier. With a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile, I placed my hand on her diapered front and then between her legs. She wasn’t soaked yet, but had just made a stride closer to getting there. I studied her face and thought: “What could she be dreaming about?”

What comfort she had, what security she must’ve been feeling, what peace of mind she must’ve been in and how wonderful it felt to give that to her, to help her reach that state of mind.

And then she opened her eyes, looking straight up at me as if she knew it was time to awaken and as if she wanted to see nothing more than me with first sight.

I gazed down at my BabyGirl and my mind flashed back to our last conversation we had before I left the weekend prior.
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Adam leaned back, breaking from the reflections of the story again.

“I honestly didn’t know what would lie beyond that first meeting and weekend we shared together,” Adam said, smiling at the thought. “But before we got that hotel room, I would visit her at her house the weekend before. And I remember that Sunday night before I left, we were lying on her living room rug. She looked up at me with the same question on her mind as I was thinking.”

“And what question was that?” Hank asked, beginning to be taken in by the story.

“It was more of a collected thought than a question, I guess,” Adam stated. “I said to her: If there is a place for me here, I want to belong.  And her reply was: Everything happens for a reason.”

Hank smiled, beginning to see why his source had contacted him to meet Adam.

“So, the following weekend in that hotel room, her eyes gave me the answer, not just about the reasons for fate, but also … what that one thing was which brought me happiness,” Adam said. “I smiled. All I could do was smile. It was the truth. Anything more would’ve been too much. Anything less would’ve been forgetful. It was just … one … thing. And it was all that I ever needed.”

Also read:  Dynamics

Kindle or Kindle Unlimited

………………….. The HodgePodge Series

The Dynamic Story From Sun Up to Sun Down Deja Vu Lucy BabyLove Climax  
Crimson Snake Eyes The Crinklebury Tales Sad girl holding a teddy bear
The Dynamic Story
From Sun Up to Sun Down: The ABDL 3-Way Experience
Johnny and the Princess
Deja Vu: Inamorata to Illuminati
Lucy
BabyLove
Climax
Crimson
Snake Eyes
The Crinklebury Tales
60 Degrees and Down the Crack
The ABDL Any Time Reader
Forever Young
A Girl Named Love
 

2 responses to “A Tale of Dreaming Minds and Dreaming Hearts

  1. Pingback: The Dynamic Story | zorrodaddy.com

  2. Pingback: Dynamics | zorrodaddy.com

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