Dreama’s Diary–August 11
Today I kept thinking about yesterday and about the way I wanted to get lost in the delirium of his being. These thoughts flood my mind with forbidden daydreams. I couldn’t concentrate on my job. I forgot one lady’s iced tea and another man’s pie. There was no hope of pulling myself together.
Whenever I see him, I ache to feel his lips. Today, he was wearing beige shorts and I eyed the golden hair on his legs. He gave me more formula for Ana, so I hugged him, squeezing him close, almost tasting his salty breath. His face reddened and he pulled away slightly. I relished the brief moment I had my breast squished against the hardness of his chest. I pulled back, but I secretly grinned in triumph.
I had wanted to climb on his lap, to press my body over his, to arch cat-like against him. I wanted to feel the wetness of his mouth, to pull his upper lip between my own and claim it as mine. Then I’d sample the lower lip, running my tongue slowly across it and finally know the softness his wife already knows as my own.
I want him to lust for me, to force his tongue against my own, to make this noble man so much in need of me his entire Will is to have me at once. Our breath, rapid and desperate, as if life is the intrusion against the eternal now of our bliss, always being interrupted by time and by change.
I need him to take the ravage of my lust and hold it down with the weight of his body, to battle his own penetrating lust against mine until it bursts into a final calm. Where will be that peace, that afterglow? Would he find it with me or must I pine alone?
“He’s looking good today,” Milo said with a wink as he walked by in his apron.
“Yes, he is,” I replied, lowering my head to smile. Does everyone know about this infatuation? Where was Henry? Perhaps that was the problem. It is always easy to blame someone not present.
So where is this all leading to? Nowhere?