Like today, for instance: I'm minding my own business, stuck at the very unglamourous laundromat, and watching the world parade down the main street of my section of the city. And then it hit me: just about every woman that walked by was wearing a sexy little dress, meandering dreamily in the sultry heat of today.
Why oh why must every one of them look like a luscious, fresh fig?
-Sigh-
The Bloke and I are going out later tonight. We've talked of adding a friend to our mix; not a current friend, mind you (so any of you reading are safe...), but finding a ready, willing, and able woman to join in our romps.
I've played with a woman only once before as a "going away present" when I left NYC. It was a very considerate gift, I should add; one of my friends knew I wanted to play, so he brought me to a swingers' club one late, tipsy night. I had no interest in the men coming at me with hardened cocks - really, it seemed almost absurd - which made me the least popular woman there, I'm sure. But I did have a lovely tongue-filled session with a young, bronzed beauty, kissing her nipples and mouth and letting my fingers play with her lips and clit. Her man got off watching us. I'd love to have gone further with her but I knew others would join in and it was just a bit too anonymous for me. I kinda paranoid about some things, and I didn't see too many condoms out and about. An explosive orgasm, as much as I'd celebrate it, didn't quite seem worth the risk.
So today, I'll simmer up dreams for myself and The Bloke and download pictures of Dita Von Teese, perhaps one of the most luscious women around. And I'm certain The Bloke will not object to my whisperings in his ear tonight, when we're out at an open air concert in a full crowd, of all the ways in which we could touch, taste, tantalize her...
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