Literally have not been able to focus on much this week but the many flavors this dark chocolate fantasy man must have. To have excited fingers trailblazing on undiscovered terrain. Mountains and hills untouched. Findings of dams ready to break and free the raging waters enclosed. What does that beard feel like? It looks smooth, very full and almost comforting to lay eyes on. It looks extremely soft, like if it was positioned between…. Speaking of fantasy, notice where the mind travels, words are only spoken like this when the mind is bored. Playing out scenarios of all the ways creating conversation could go. Subtle movement of fingers and lips. Quick intense eye contact. A few soft laughs. Anyway and anything to make him feel that the femininity that lies before him would love to reclaim submission and be willing to receive. Why is the body lusting so deeply for this coffee, no cream, drenched man? Not even a moment has been shared. Not even a word spoken and yet fantasies of legs firmly propped straight upward dance deliciously in my mind. The body is bored. At home. My breast wanna become offerings of gratitude to the man who aims to please them. The heavy thoughts of the warmth from delicately moisten pink flesh between thighs is ruining an afternoon meeting. Many nights before my feverish appetite for a man I’ve never initially met began, I remember contemplating the initiation of yet another unfair exchange of my bodily needs. My hunger. My insatiable lust for my partner who, within reach, so distant for the reality of a woman’s secrets. Tell me, What’s the value of words if no one listens? If it’s all in the mind does it ever truly count? Never mind mundane repetitive nights and destinations never reached due to abrupt stops, a mental escape is needed if the elasticity of a relationship is not there to feed the hunger. I bet my dreams are played out vividly during the nights shared because an appetite is not something one should ever suppress. The body must cringe as moans escape during silent nights, breathing rhythm increasing, tossing and turning under sheets. How it must feel as a man to witness the demise of his manhood for failing to listen to the cries of his woman. You’ve been warned, my lover.
Offer yourself unguarded to me or leave me and my cup of coffee to be alone.
I hope you get the reference, sooner… than later.