Even In These Witching Hours...

She's probably gone ("the one"), I do feel her slipping away, I've left my job and now live alone in an old house in New York. I have a very sick relative and a doggy who unfortunately needs medication to control his separation anxiety...and yet...I think about walking to the corner bar and perhaps striking up a dangerous but thrilling conversation with an attractive or witty woman, undoubtedly I risk the crash-and-burn of rejection, and still I fantasize about the eventuality of this random, semi-anonymous woman straddling me slowly here in the near darkness of my room late at night, riding me slowly, her hands on my chest, her hair across my face, smothering me in the scent of a shampoo i have never smelled before, a perfume that might break my heart if I ever smell it again, and a sexual lust that is unique to this woman, whomever she may be. I need sensual contact and the tingling, mind-spinning relief. I crave sexual healing, knowing it may do more damage than repair in the end. But I am thinking about sex at this moment, and I believe it may be time to take care of this warm tension alone, that may be the safest route. But the lure in the thrill of new flirtation, subtle hints, a wicked smile and a connected laugh or three keeps me restless, tempted, alone. I clearly need to make a better attempt at job-searching, but that wont quench the insatiable pool of desires that open the door to new fantasies, new experiences. And the beat goes on...
AjohnamousConfessions AjohnamousConfessions
36-40, M
Sep 25, 2012