Keith wrote to me again, a short message. Full of hidden meanings, maybe. I read a lot into it. Sent back my questions. I miss him. Almost every time I masturbate, everytime I think about sex, fucking, cock... he comes to mind. In brilliant color. Gloriously naked. My brain takes him from the first moment we met until he was naked and inside me, our eyes locked. Images burned so clearly in my brain.
We once talked about my dildo. About how he likes the idea of me having one molded from his cock. An intimate, sexy conversation. They sell kits, I think. And I need a new dildo. I could beg. How intense, personal, emotional would it be to have that singular part of him. Over the years these things wear out... I'd be hard pressed to throw it away, ever. Imaginings bring me thoughts of one molded out of stainless steel. Polished, shiny perfection based on him. All fantasy. But I have desires.
It floors me, my want and need of this man. It blows me away with the intensity.
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