Wednesday, August 29, 2012

To Fuck.....No chaser

Ever had the urge to just simply FUCK? F…U….C…K.. On demand is what I want of you. There is simply something about you that gently pulls my attention entirely and directly to you. I didn’t even want to know your last name, although my caller ID betrayed you. Check it; I didn’t even want to know your entire name. All I wanted from you and with you was your stance hovering over me waiting to dive inside of me.


I was laying in my bed and during this hot summer’s night my fan wasn’t oscillating to my body temp dire need, so I began to undress myself. My eyes were closed and my lips were suddenly swollen. My socks were bothering me so off they came first. Left to only a tee shirt, bra and panties I decided which item to minimize first. Slowly sliding my hands to my waist I held myself. The feminine indent of one’s tummy to navel, to the warm skin and slide of a curvaceous waist beckoned me to delve deeper. Never having before appreciated my pronounced and at times damnably womanly features until this very night set more ablaze and afire within me. Like honey to a sweet sickened tongue I was painfully turned on. A little push of my hands further and I would be cupping the heat and wet warmth of my desires. What drove me to utter intimate appeal…surely I could answer that as readily and passionately as never before.

The mysteries of faith have swallowed and at times lead some people to their destinations and spiritual travels, but the mystery of attraction and appeal has held no ground or actual laws. The mystery of intimacy is almost started once the moment is enacted. There is nothing to guide or lead you to it, it hones in on you and once in its embrace you are spiraled into obsession of the need. I believe when I saw him I was aroused to the highest personal intimate level. As a heart beating in unison with your spiritual time clock, my feminine spot beat a wildly rhythmic beat of need, want and the tale tell story of desire and passion. The age old story of conquering and being conquered and devouring one another in sexual bliss was never a tall tale but the humanistic fate of the outcomes of desire.

So I touched and teased and tasted and pleased. Thinking of you and how you would make me feel. I almost slipped and called you. I almost slipped and requested your night company. In preparation of my sensual demise I planned to lick your navel to chest to chin and side of your face. To hold both of your arms above your head enacting the pendulum of breasts, and their desired fate. To be licked and pleased and teased and passionately bitten until my knees began to bend then buckle. My hands would betray your arms and I would be left pleasurably unguarded from your masculinity. You would lift me up and pin me on my back and go from my navel to clit to left leg to calf. Oh the agony.

I haven’t even pulled my shirt over my head yet or took off my bra. Wet and out of breath and panting for that intense daydream.

Ever want to be fucked? Dream more.

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