I need sex. It’s this inordinate, irrepressible desire that starts out from that soft space between my legs and proliferates into every part of me. I want to be fucked. Brutally but with consideration; be subjugated, while forcing submission to my desire.
Martine’s asked me out for dinner tonight.
Me ’About time, it has been a few days. Too long.’
‘I know it’s been awhile, I’ve been trying to keep on the straight and narrow.’
‘I quite prefer the winding, crooked route. It’s usually more scenic.’
The more I can’t have him the more I want him. Why must he be so afraid? No one needs to know. I could sneak over to his place in the middle of the night, and leave at dawn, and no one needs to fucking know. I don’t care if he doesn’t take me out, I don’t need dinner and dates and Dahlias. I just want that piece of him.
He’s very tall, twice my size, slender though. I want to pin him down like the little imp I am, and straddle him with my insanity. Dig my nails into his flesh and grit my teeth and stare at him like I’m going to tear him apart. I want to match my youthful body against his. Notice how young, and lithe, and supple I am. How perfect the perkiness of my breasts, the colour of the aureoles, the undulation of my belly where my womb resides. Staple all that against his less then perfect, far from perfect self.
I want him with such selfish, reckless abandon. For all the most selfish, thoughtless reasons.
Fuck me on the table, on the bed, draped over the couch, in front of the mirror, upon the floor. I want you to look like you’re absolutely consumed by me, I want to spur you to irrationality.
You told me, in the slightest whisper over the drum beats of an obscure Brazilian artist, how men just love to fuck many, many women. And how women would want to snag one guy, and fuck him many, many times.
I’ll not give you rest.
If you’d just let me.
God-Damnit.
xoxox
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