PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

I want everything

Friday, Jun. 28, 2002
I need a man that owns a dictionary and doesn't use big words he has to look up in it. I need a man that can spell. A man that wears his jeans low enough to show his belly button. A man that strokes his hard stomach absentmindedly as he talks to me a man that knows by looking at me that I want him to bend me over the kitchen counter and teach me how to cook A man that will sit and read Harry Potter to my son and play with matchbox cars making "v'room v'room" sounds. A man that can walk right up to me and put his hand up my skirt and talk to me all the while like he's not doing it at all. He’d say "today at work....” or something like that…talking monotone while he flicks his fingers over my clit and I’d start with a stream of horny words, while I had difficulty standing straight, my knees buckling under the slightest pressure of his fingertips. He would continue unaffected.....still touching me still talking normal to me. My eyes would dart to his hardness, wondering when I get to truly affect him back. I need a man with a brain that twists my thoughts into wanting to be stronger. I crave a man that reduces me to an orgasmic puddle of woman flesh on the floor in front of him, a man that can stroke me unique with his weapon of choice, a man that can make me beg for pure flesh punishment, a man that understands that I want to see some sign of evidence in the morning. I want to be able to review his crime visually. I want to be his aftermath walking. I need the traits of a million men to make the one perfect specimen. Then I need to fuck him until he breaks. Step over his remains and clean his blood off of my high heels. Then and only when he looks up at me and professes his undying love, I will smile.

I want everything.

I want nothing less.

I talk a big game, but I’m so afraid of never truly having what I need.
7:01 p.m. ::
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