Imagine being in a meeting at work, trying to focus on the matters at hand but all you can think about are his hands. You’re watching the way he sits and you’re paying close attention to the bulge in his pants. Rather than considering charts and graphs, you’re considering how many ways you can put your pussy on his mustache. It’s probably soft. It covers his lips like a white, feathered filled duvet.
After imagining him suck your heart thru your vaginal cavity, you switch positions. Still unaware of what ever it is you’re supposed to be listening to, you can see yourself riding is cock. He’s such an old fuck but old, you know like the best bottle of whiskey. The thought of it makes you chuckle but no one seems to notice. You squeeze your thighs tight and pull your pelvic floor towards your cervix.
You’re gonna climax. Right here. Right in this meeting. All over the cock poking through his pressed khaki pants.
It’s late. I’ve spent about 3 hrs scrolling online. It’s almost three AM and I’ve been up since 11. I leave for work at six. This time I closed my eyes and thought about being held in his arms as he kissed me on my forehead. I closed my eyes and snuggled into his chest. As I imagined this, tears quietly rolled down the side of my face. this man was someone I knew but never saw but I could feel his love and passion radiate through me. The only certainty is that if I were to find myself wrapped in this someone’s arms, it would be for my benefit alone. I’d leave him eventually for a man I would want to marry. And it doesn’t work that way. The karma in a one-sided love affair hits hard. I’d be plagued with the idea of being a placeholder and inevitably ruin the prospect of a serious relationship. Until I can enjoy the quiet space & not occlude it with the past, I need to be alone. I don’t want my old lovers or my old friends. I want to feel new. I am in fact brand new.
My lips were numb and I could barely breathe. Whenever we kissed, I felt intoxicated. I wanted more. I needed more.
His kiss sucked the air directly from my lungs. When our lips parted ways, he bit down until tears welled in my eyes. His kiss felt like love so I bit him back. I was ready for love.
Then he’d trail his lips from my full bottom lip to my chin and from my chin to my neck. My pussy ached in a literal sense. My inner walls contracted and salivated.
His fingers danced to the meeting of my thighs and skipped around my clit. He kissed me again. Tiny bubbles filled my airway. My breaths would become shallow. My mind would race until I was dizzy.
This unmistakable lust had eluded me until this moment. A stolen moment.
A single stolen moment would become two and then three until each stolen moment was declared the last of its kind.
image credit: stefan kuhn
This is going to be short. Bare with me for a few. I’ve been writing and not posting. I thought I was feeling better but it seems that my work is still in a dark place.
Some of you may notice, as you travel through the the site that some of my random thoughts were reposted. This was, of course, done in error.
I’ve longed for sexual freedom for quite some time but I haven’t felt confident enough to free myself. Nevertheless, even if I were confident enough to find said freedom, I’m not sure it would heal what hurts.
My words are like caged birds.
Can we make love under the crackling thunder? The droplets of rain evaporate when they kiss our bare skin.
He said he’d buy me a collar then we’d do erotic things.
I wonder what those things include.
Would he instruct me to gracefully kneel and lift my hair?
As he fixes the collar to my neck, would his rough finger tips graze the tiny goosebumps on my nape?
Before he walks around to stand in front of me, lifting my chin so he can see me
Staring into my eyes so he can see us
Because I am now his submissive.
A reflection of his dominance,
A result of his care,
Remember when I started smoking? We smoked together. I used to spend the nights on the town and the days walking in the park before Mary Jane infiltrated my world. There were days the sun didn’t kiss my skin and nights the moon never got to meet the sun. We, instead, spent hours on the couch laughing over shotguns and zombies. We shared kisses infused with Hennessy and whiskey. Fresh herb stained our lips. What a life.
Our taste is on the tip of my tongue; our scent lingers on my lips and nose. A tingle remains on my backside to remind me of the way you popped my ass to correct my arch. I want to please you in every way.
I’m feeling antsy in this heat. I should be in the nude. Your hands should be fixed in the crooks of my knees. My knees should be pressed into ribs while your phallus massages my insides. The sound of coqui add to the soundtrack of our love making.
Let us recite our sacrilegious prayer. It’s the one we share prior to commencing congress. You give thanks to our higher power for giving me your rib. I give thanks for the strength in your backbone. Our lips unite after we say ‘amen.’ You’re delicious. Stroke me.