Ladybug, ladybug. I imagined you sitting up in bed. You felt more than you communicated. I thought more than I talked. I’d been talking all day, I’m done with it. The compromise was you come over tonight and suck my cock the way I’ve been dreaming about, then fall asleep with me. We’ll shower and warm the place up, I said. Kiss your shoulders, more than like. I had a moment of panic at the prospect of intimacy, but for now, I’ll think it’s just sleep.
Month: February 2012
Ladybug
Ladybug, ladybug. I imagined you sitting up in bed. You felt more than you communicated. I thought more than I talked. I’d been talking all day, I’m done with it. The compromise was you come over tonight and suck my cock the way I’ve been dreaming about, then fall asleep with me. We’ll shower and warm the place up, I said. Kiss your shoulders, more than like. I had a moment of panic at the prospect of intimacy, but for now, I’ll think it’s just sleep.
Small industry
I’ll be working on the same game as the dude who she’s seeing now. It’s a small industry, but come the fuck on, universe. How many more intersections will you introduce? Another random fucker who messages me about her? Her photo crossing my path as I scroll through my dashboard?
I’d say it could be worse. He could be a local as opposed to a few thousand miles away. Thing is, I’ve been itching for a confrontation I never got. I could do with a conversation not reliant on some electronic device or another. My resolution with the situation’s set but a heart-to-heart would really be the cherry on top.
This aggression’s wearing me down, on top of these work hours. I need to let it out in as rough a manner as possible. Feel for the girl who’s going to bear the brunt of it—or envy her, if that is how you roll, too.
Small industry
I’ll be working on the same game as the dude who she’s seeing now. It’s a small industry, but come the fuck on, universe. How many more intersections will you introduce? Another random fucker who messages me about her? Her photo crossing my path as I scroll through my dashboard?
I’d say it could be worse. He could be a local as opposed to a few thousand miles away. Thing is, I’ve been itching for a confrontation I never got. I could do with a conversation not reliant on some electronic device or another. My resolution with the situation’s set but a heart-to-heart would really be the cherry on top.
This aggression’s wearing me down, on top of these work hours. I need to let it out in as rough a manner as possible. Feel for the girl who’s going to bear the brunt of it—or envy her, if that is how you roll, too.
The more I think about the lies and manipulation (which does take two to tango), the more I want to manipulate and contort her to my will.
She’s too independent and frightened for that, however. She needs to be steadied with a firm hand and gentle offerings before she submits. She always wanted to be treated like a kitten, nice and safe in a big warm bed.
Disappointment
I started to write about our first night and the disappointment I felt when she turned me down for a walk home, then the second time I met with her and the extraordinary weekend that followed. I wrote specific details, bits of our conversation as dialogue, the way she took my personal problems with seeing women in stride…
But, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to deal with this build up and revelation. I don’t want a story here. In fact, this is a notice to myself.
What’s important is that this is about how much I want to fuck her. I do not want this fact to be in question. I do not spend my waking hours wondering about her life, her friends, her job. I think about her brown watery eyes when she’s masturbating. There’s the sweet bend of her white knees. I like how white she is. I like the fact that I’m fucking this pale girl who works as a clerk at a mall store. I’m thinking about just how she’s going to suck my cock at our next encounter after a kiss hello. Her teeth are dull. She used to smoke, she told me, which is why there’s a lingering hint of it in that entry hallway, next to the closet and light switch, next to which I’ll guide her down to my cock without speaking word one, and kiss her again afterward, reveling in the knowledge that she just took my cum into herself—glad to—and would go much further in that first several minutes if not for our preference to go out for a walk and maybe see a film before we return for a nightcap and as many more hours of my enjoyment of her as I can muster. This is what’s important. This is what’s going to be remembered. Fuck her like it’ll make her dreams come true.
Disappointment
I started to write about our first night and the disappointment I felt when she turned me down for a walk home, then the second time I met with her and the extraordinary weekend that followed. I wrote specific details, bits of our conversation as dialogue, the way she took my personal problems with seeing women in stride…
But, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to deal with this build up and revelation. I don’t want a story here. In fact, this is a notice to myself.
What’s important is that this is about how much I want to fuck her. I do not want this fact to be in question. I do not spend my waking hours wondering about her life, her friends, her job. I think about her brown watery eyes when she’s masturbating. There’s the sweet bend of her white knees. I like how white she is. I like the fact that I’m fucking this pale girl who works as a clerk at a mall store. I’m thinking about just how she’s going to suck my cock at our next encounter after a kiss hello. Her teeth are dull. She used to smoke, she told me, which is why there’s a lingering hint of it in that entry hallway, next to the closet and light switch, next to which I’ll guide her down to my cock without speaking word one, and kiss her again afterward, reveling in the knowledge that she just took my cum into herself—glad to—and would go much further in that first several minutes if not for our preference to go out for a walk and maybe see a film before we return for a nightcap and as many more hours of my enjoyment of her as I can muster. This is what’s important. This is what’s going to be remembered. Fuck her like it’ll make her dreams come true.
I got light-headed in the shower this morning. It felt like when I spent too much time in a sauna. My head ached from overwork and a continued bout of some common illness. I could still see the scrapings of her claws on my left bicep. They intersected the faded stretch marks. I could count to twelve by them. I felt nauseous for a moment and got out to press my forehead to the wall. I dripped for a while.
She was angry that I skipped out on last weekend. She became more irate when I told her I wouldn’t make it this weekend. None of it obvious, of course. Not over the phone. I’ll bet her eyes were enraged.
She wanted me to say I could stay over, but was unwilling to ask me directly. I became irritated as well.
“I’m busy as all hell,” I told her. “Now’s not a good time. We need to be in all weekend to get this done.” I wanted to mention I am also sick, but our time together is based on being me the stronger one. It felt unwise to show weakness at these early stages.
“Okay. When will this be done?”
“We hit our milestone Sunday night.”
“Okay.” She paused, probably fidgeted with something next to her. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too. I thought of you this morning.”
“What did you think?”
I’m sick, you know.
I got light-headed in the shower this morning. It felt like when I spent too much time in a sauna. My head ached from overwork and a continued bout of some common illness. I could still see the scrapings of her claws on my left bicep. They intersected the faded stretch marks. I could count to twelve by them. I felt nauseous for a moment and got out to press my forehead to the wall. I dripped for a while.
She was angry that I skipped out on last weekend. She became more irate when I told her I wouldn’t make it this weekend. None of it obvious, of course. Not over the phone. I’ll bet her eyes were enraged.
She wanted me to say I could stay over, but was unwilling to ask me directly. I became irritated as well.
“I’m busy as all hell,” I told her. “Now’s not a good time. We need to be in all weekend to get this done.” I wanted to mention I am also sick, but our time together is based on being me the stronger one. It felt unwise to show weakness at these early stages.
“Okay. When will this be done?”
“We hit our milestone Sunday night.”
“Okay.” She paused, probably fidgeted with something next to her. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too. I thought of you this morning.”
“What did you think?”
I’m sick, you know.
verbose – Apr. 11
I would love nothing more than to fuck you. I’ve been thinking
about you calling out my name since you told me I don’t care
about you. That forced me to think. In my most common
fantasy, your hair is in my hand and and I can feel it, feel you
pushing your ass against me. It triggered something I’d kept in
check for a while. Pure animal want is what I’d call it. But it
goes beyond that, because it’s you.
Raging arousal aside, I’m embracing what I feel about you
completely, not in parts. I do still want you in my life as a
friend, a confidante. I feel you’ve helped me on an ongoing
process and you already know you’re important to me.
I want to help you. I want to see you bloom, get that which
you want. I’d risk vulnerability if I have a chance to make you
feel better. It may be me being protective, but that’s who I am.
As I said before, please think about that and everything I’ve told
you. Wanting to control you, all that past business. I have
definitely been thinking about who you are, and as I said long
ago, I want all of you, a relationship. Now I can say this and
convey my meaning.
Email isn’t going to cut it. It shouldn’t be enough at this point.
So, we can speak and discuss where we want to be, and
see how things line up. If you agree or disagree. I can’t fuck
you on your birthday. I can’t hold you tonight, or tomorrow. But
we can talk. We can clarify and grow.