truffle wrote:

On a related note, I like talking about crying with people in real life. When an attractive woman even says the words "tears" or "cry" I get excited. If they talk about crying while actually crying, that's heaven.

 
I agree on both counts. It's a big turn on to hear a woman talking about crying.

The sounds of a woman crying are unbearably beautiful, though. I love sobs that are heavy, but also feminine.

My favorite has to be the sound of a woman gasping for breath through sobs. Especially when her throat is tight and her glottis is in spasm, and she takes a labored breath with that indescribably sexy high-pitched squeaky hiccup sound. That is THE sexiest sound a woman can possibly make. Nothing like hugging a woman tight, and hearing that sound loud in my ear and feeling her belly move when she squeaks with a desperate breath.

That sounds great. Four-year-old me would have loved that dream.

This occurred a while back, nine years or so, and I thought of it again today. 

I'm a great lover of the outdoors, and one summer day I took a hike up Mount Marcy, the highest peak in New York. If you've never been, northern New York and the upper Adirondacks is one of the most beautiful regions of the country. The hike to Mount Marcy is about 7.5 miles to the top, via the most commonly used trail, and from the summit, one can see about 100 miles in all directions on a clear day. There are old, romantic tales of things that went on in the mountains in last two hundred years and change, and the good old spirits are not dormant in the rocks and trees. As such, many couples find the summit to be a good place to get engaged.

One June day, I happened to witness a young woman break down in tears of joy upon seeing her boyfriend pull a ring out of his pocket and propose. The summit area is fairly large, and I had seen the couple standing upon a somewhat lower promontory a little way down the ridge, off by themselves, while I was near the exact peak with a handful of other people milling about. 

I took little notice of them until I heard the clear sounds of loud, feminine sobbing coming on the wind from somewhere east of me, and I turned my head to see the man down on his knees on a flat rock, holding up a small object. Well, it could only mean one thing.

An older couple who were standing near me picked up on this as well, and the husband suggested that we immediately hike over to them to take some pictures to help the happy couple commemorate. I, of course, acquiesced at once, not only for the prospect of having a nice story to tell, but to have a better witness of the crying woman.

She was still sobbing when we got there a few minutes later. I remember the look on her face very clearly, as she turned her wet eyes to greet me as I walked up. She had hazel eyes with a knowing, sidelong glance, and her corneas were already reddened. Her mouth was hanging open in a ric

I've recently remembered a dream I had years ago, in middle school, that occured after I had observed a real life crying incident involving a female friend.

We were both eleven at the time. As I remember the actual incident, she had been harassed by some other girls in the cafeteria at lunch and came outside halfway through lunch, in tears. She was a lovely girl, of Irish descent and looked it, freckles, fair skin, green eyes, radiant red hair.

I remember her half-crying as she talked to a group of us. Her eyes were wet but her tears were not full enough to run down her face. Her voice was choked up and cracking, and each sentence was punctuated by a high-pitched, airy, lilting gasp.

The cluster of us did our best to reassure her and calm her down. I didn't go in for a full hug, being somewhat shy about my feelings at that time, though afterwards I wished that I had tried.

Anyway, a week or two later I had a dream. The context was completely changed into something oddball and nonsensical. Something to do with a Jon Bon Jovi concert gone completely awry, if I remember right. However, the denoument soon took a familiar course, as I found her crying in front of me in our school hallway. This time I opened my arms for her, and, with a shuddering voice, she bid me to comfort her, saying "please hold me, protect me..."

I pulled her close to me, her head tucked into my left shoulder, and just as I felt sure that she was going to collapse into full sobs, I felt a strange tightness and a tingle from deep inside my genital region, and awoke to find that I had soaked the sheet with my first ever orgasm.

So, there you have it. Comforting a crying girl was my first ever wet dream. One occurrence out of many in a long string of wonderful teary discoveries.

inmyarmsagain wrote:

The only thing better would be a video. But I assume that's not happening.

I would love it if I could get one some time, but idk if that will be in the cards. Can't say that I haven't thought about it, though. 

I'm sure quite a few people around here would have loved to watch the girl who I dated in senior year of college cry. I realize in retrospect that she had that curled lip effect that so many around here seem to love.