Sneakyteaky

How I long for you to notice me. To be near you, to be with you. It’s not necessarily lustful but pure bliss knowing that I want you. My clear nervous comfort about being in your presence. The pleasure of genuine conversations, you don’t talk down to me nor I to you. We do not content with puerile questions or monologues of insignificant banter. Thinking we are brilliant, we seem to expect brilliance from each other and it is delivered, and in all of it, we listen, not just to the words but to each other. The assumption that we can be as honest and true to each other as we are with ourselves, coupled with a wide generosity of spirit, interest and true enthusiasm.

I dream to kiss you, it trickles to my loins and leaves me breathless. You are a beautiful man, sweet, lovely and have a demeanor to you that any woman can tell they would be loved in your arms. I want to dream in your body allowing my thoughts to dwell into your face, not showing my emotions for just a little while longer, letting my soul drift toward the high internal silence of constant building love. How I sit with you at meetings, not showing my pleasure, not breathing because you have no idea what you do to me when you brush my arm. I imagine your beautiful pink lips on my moist pedals and I have to turn my head away with great hope of you not seeing how much I desire to kiss you. Can you read my mind? I wish I could find my reasoning. How could I possibly have found myself in love with you. These feelings have never left me, I just never knew they were here.

I have techno colored visions that always include a presence, you, who, quite like the dreamer share delight in this dream. The way you leave me without the ability to walk at times is mind boggling. Your hands have never touched my soft flesh nor your lips caress mine. I don’t feel your body pressed against my breasts and you breathing in my ear in rhythmic dizzyness, lying under you in a position of surrender, feeling my own abiding strength and limitless power as the pleasure builds in my belly and through my thighs. I can keep a fantacy for myself however everytime I see you, my mind pulls upon it and it’s not something that I can control. My knees tingle and I give in to hot flashes. I have to walk away from my conscience or else I will faint. Particles of strength gather in me like steel shavings drawn to a spacious magnetic center, forming a tight cluster that nothing, it seems can break as I calm myself. You are intoxicating. I delight in this infactuation, I have feelings returned to me that are kindred to desire long forgotten. Exultant memories of warm sunny days this summer strolling through fields of long grass and tiny flowers to lay under old crocked apple trees and live in my fantacies. Wet fingers in panties feeling velvety sweetness and billowy clowds against a cerulean sky. My imagination rescues me from emptyness and places your eyes under me. I have no defence against your hands pulling me onto you. There is a feeling about you that excites me when I think about your hands pulling…pulling as you enter me.

I could never send this, I chickened out. If you have the nerve and don’t live in Peterborough ON, use it. Maybe you’re stronger than me.

I live in Canada and I love it here but I’m afraid that may change since I’ve connected with my true love in the US and already I’m talking with a NY accent. I am being made fun of constantly of the way I use the Queens language and how I talk like a “Newfie”. I do not! Everyone else has an accent, even the Queen, we don’t EH!

Good luck to you.
Teak.

I have a single male co worker that I’ve loved for 8 months now. There is a feeling about him that excites me when I think about him, being near him, being with him. His name is Doug and it’s not necessarily lustful but pure bliss knowing that I want him. My clear comfort about being in his presence. The pleasure of genuine conversations, he doesn’t talk down to me nor I to him. We do not content with puerile questions or monologues of insignificant banter. Thinking we are brilliant, we seem to expect brilliance from each other and it is delivered, and in all of it, we listen, not just to the words but to each other. The assumption that we can be as honest and true to each other as we are with ourselves, coupled with a wide generosity of spirit, interest and true enthusiasm.

I dream to kiss this man that is 12 years my sr and it trickles to my loins and leaves me breathless. He is beautiful man, sweet, lovely and has a demeanor to him that any woman can tell they would be loved in his arms. I want to dream in his body allowing my thoughts to dwell on his face, not showing my emotions for just a little while longer, letting my soul drift toward the high internal silence of constant building love. How I sit beside him at meetings, not showing my pleasure, not breathing because he has no idea what he does to me when he brushes my arm. I imagine his beautiful pink lips on my pedals and I have to turn my head away with great hope of him not seeing how much I desire to kiss him. He puts his hand on my arm and asks me if i’m cold because I am always quivering around him.

Monday morning he removed his large sport jacket and placed it on my shoulders He wouldn’t take it back until he felt I was warm and the scent of him stayed with me until I went to bed.