AureliaIndianaJones

It was another fantasy, and this particular one was a dime a dozen. Deep in the caverns of sleep, when the stench of rotting flesh and four sweaty men could bother him no longer, he would have this fantasy. He'd be lying down, shirtless, only his black trousers and shoes on and they poorly hid his (quite impressive) erection. Sadly he never experienced the dream in the first person, he was always watching this. As always, the fantasy began with him lying down on a floor - specifically, the floor of his childhood home. Hardwood floors that were smoother than the smoothest stone, cold to the touch and pleasant to rub - or to grind against as t