Nam vehicula lorem
Aliquam varius adipiscing tempor. Vivamus id ipsum sit amet massa con-sectetur porta. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Praesent dignissim ultrices neque. Aliquam auctor congue nunc sed interdum. Aenean sagittis gravida est, sit amet egestas metus venenatis non.
“Nice to meet you Ce Lo.”
“If I am not being to forward, can I give you my number so maybe you can call me sometimes?”
“Of course, please do that.” He asks for a pen from
the ticket table. He writes his number on the back of his ticket and hands it to me.
“Okay. I'll be calling you soon, real soon Ce.”
I had regained my composure so I said it with confidence. As I am turning towards the auditorium door, he squeezes my hand.
“I apology excuse me. I don’t want to get to personal but may I have a hug?”
I think to myself……Shittttt you can have more than that Mr. Man!
“But of course you may.”
My arms open preparing for our embrace. Right then and there, I know there was a mighty good God that sits high and looks low. LAWD! His body is so hard and he smells delicious. Take me now Lord, take me now less I sin some more! Oh the dirty thoughts that swim butt ass naked in my head. Why don’t they come in this make and model in Craigsville?
After we hug, I turn smiling and return to my seat inside the auditorium floating on cloud nine.
“Kendall you are not going to believe this. Girl he was waiting for me in the hallway when I came out of the restroom! I almost passed right the hell out! Girl he gave me his number, was like call me! Hell yeah! I’m fitting to call you toNNNNIGHT and yen know!”
All my cool and grace was long gone. Hahahahaha we laughed and smiled like two getty school kids. He walked back into the auditorium and looks my way, smiles and winks. All I can do is smile, HARD, and give a little laugh. Oh my damn, my nipples are getting hard. What a night!
As soon as I got home, I raced for my journal. For as long as I can remember, my first recall of anything meaningful in my life, was not about me not having the actual experience but of me as I wrote about my feelings and emotions surrounding it. Like, what I saw and felt. I painted that in words. The room that I was in, how it felt, looked smelled, the sun, the window frame, the head space that enveloped me, my emotions, the temperature of my being, etc. Writing has been like my lifeline and here recently my glance back to yesterday and year, a magnet to those familiar feelings, modes and tones, an extension/release of sorts for me. Being able to pour them onto paper with pen is not artistry for me but more like transforming breaths of expression into it's truth.
Full
I am completely satisfied from our conversations. I hang on your every word, umm a tasty treat the way you wrap your mouth around those dripping sweet words. It covers every one of my taste buds with thick sticky want, pushes back my cuticles oh this mani is so good. Even my follicles are hard, feenin from your word play Hot damn Sexy!
You do with words what very few can do with their tool and it feels good, like a gentle spring breeze gliding across my warm face. Direct and focused words horned directly at my kitty; you reach me with your tight monologue. Seduce me baby, seduce me!
Never too much, your verb selection keeps me in a working pleasure. Inebriated, I touch myself Umm, I want to put something tough on you. Better still, I want you to put more verses, sentences, paragraphs in me. It’s really necessary
Fuller
I am in an abundance of satisfaction with every moment of verbal exchange we partake in. I slide down and wrap around every word you utter my literary lover.
When we break silence minus laughter, not many sounds do more to flatter.
It's an ole school tasty treat. That just right treat soft serve between banana split all the trimmings, wet nuts - the way you dip and wrap your mouth around chocolate sweet speech. You've created a verbal leech. Spinning threads of sugar into a weightless cloud of loud, I wet it and roll it all around covering
every one of my taste buds with thick sticky titillating want. I play it off, acting nonchalant.
Even my follicles are hard curled back to its nappy roots, kitty right, lubricated by this process of free commute.
My lungs contract and release to your pattern of speech. It’s like the honor of listening to the brilliance of your ancestors’ wisdom under wide shading trees of beech, preach! You do with words what very few can do with touch, seductive pleasing verbiage foreplay's across my body like orgasms releasing climax. With ease you massage hot and wet with the roll of your tongues tip. Direct and focused, horned directly at me; you reach with cool saturated monologue, you stay in me all day long so wrong. Continue to stroke me with the intercourse of your voice of course pacifying time until we touch, it’s a must. I’m about to bust from this word lust, trust, word play in the middle of the day mental foreplay.