it would be easy to deny the unwritten, unspoken, unexpected desire that dances across the sky between us. too easy, in fact.
ultimately, it won’t be a matter of when, how, or where this denial will disappear, but only a matter of which one of us will make it so.
then, that same sky won’t be the limit to our being, just a place to start.
(writing for you like this, writing of love and foreverness, makes my cock hard. i want to fuck your body, and your innocence)
on the most unexpected night,
i will come for you.
the sweetness of my storm fills your lungs, and my rushing, tempest gale flips your world around.
on this anticipated night,
i will come for you.
the crack of my thunder, the roar of my fury, the flash in your night, i am coming,
coming, coming for you.
and no seven nation army even saw me coming, let alone,
could fucking hold me back.
by the time I woke, you had already showered and made yourself comfortable on the balcony hammock. the cool morning breeze gently rocking you from side to side, and that same breeze called me to the open door to join you. you wore the same delicate black lingerie you wore last night, and the same white business shirt that i wore.
as i approached, i realised that it wasn’t the breeze rocking the hammock from side to side. with one hand holding a book, and the other beneath the lace of your panties, your body began to arch.
i was spellbound.
realising that i now stood behind you, you turned your head, but didn’t stop.
“oh good, i’m glad you’re awake. i want you to watch me come.”
so, i messaged a friend on my way to work, asking if she’d like to catch up soon for lunch. she replied that she’d been “thinking” about me, and “what are you doing for lunch today?”
so, we arrange where and when. we’re all set.
with a smile, embrace, and kiss on the cheek, we start to get caught up. she talks about her holidays, her wife and kid, and what projects she’s working on. she asks about mine.
we are kindred spirits, actually. we formed an instant connection when we met. i always seem to connect with ladies who prefer ladies. we are always honest with each other, and today was no different. she tells me how sex with her wife has improved, and how she had become jealous of a friendship her wife had formed with another lady – also a friend of mine. she admitted that she often “thought” about this mutual friend. she “thought” about her naked. she “thought” about going to bed with her. i admitted that i “thought” about our mutual friend, too. we laugh, and change the topic. she told me that before preferring the ladies, she once was with three men at once, and she absolutely loved it. intrigue!
further discussion. further honesty. further enjoyment of our friendship. it was a lovely catchup. an hour passed in what felt like ten minutes.
we said our farewells. another smile, embrace, and kiss on the cheek. yes, we must do this again. she reiterated that she was glad i connected with her because she was “thinking” about me.
oh. yes. i understand.
you’ve been “thinking” about me.
yes, i’ve been “thinking” about fucking you, too. mmmm. i like ladies who prefer ladies. mmmm.
amidst the bangs, whizzes, flashes, and flares,
despite the cheers, whoops, ooohs and ahhhs,
beyond the lights, dreams, kisses and songs
there’s a moon.
beaming, waiting, reminding me of it’s fullness, and casting itself across the ocean.
he called me, you know. he confessed his fantasy. your fantasy. he wants you to watch suck me while he takes you from behind.
we both know that’s not your true fantasy, don’t we?
you want me to have you all to myself. just the two of us. kissing while we fuck. frantically making love. knowing each other’s skin. dreaming of everything, and more.
i didn’t tell him your true fantasy. i told him, “sure, i can do Friday night. i’ll bring the rum.”
< i grip her hips, and pull her to me,
< and bend her down, and bite
< her neck, and hear her breath
< sharply shorten, and feel
< her hand push and pull and desperately
< guide my cock towards her glistening
< wet cunt –
i still wish, and think, and close my eyes and dream,
of you, Amy