LJ Idol Week 5: Afterthought
I sit on the sofa. He’s rummaging in the kitchen. I must admit I only wish he’d come and rummage me. Voraciously. Again and again…and again.
I fantasize about feeling his hands parting my thighs. And while I realize I’m not Martin Luther King, I damn sure have my own fucking dream.
Screaming, streaming in whipped cream. Gleaming in handcuffs, ropes, and ties. Criminalized.
I want him to kiss me. Really kiss me. Deeply. Then take me. To dinner...because all that rummaging and whipped cream has made me hungry!
I fantasize about feeling his hands parting my thighs. And while I realize I’m not Martin Luther King, I damn sure have my own fucking dream.
Screaming, streaming in whipped cream. Gleaming in handcuffs, ropes, and ties. Criminalized.
I want him to kiss me. Really kiss me. Deeply. Then take me. To dinner...because all that rummaging and whipped cream has made me hungry!