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Moochienanu? What the fuck kind of name is that?! Isn’t a screen name on literotica usually one you choose to make yourself distinctive and obvious about what you are or your hobbies, or sexual preferences... or something?
...
... unless, of course, you like to feel your dry asshole being ripped apart by the powerful thrusting of my strapon... then by all means, I’m dying to hear your thoughts about my inadequacies.
Sure, I’ve thought about it.
About touching you.
About how your warm skin will feel under my ever-chilly, small fingers
Seeming to sear the prints off of the tips.
Or about how we would sit next to each other in that grey area and our thighs would slowly move toward each other and touch
The warmth there would meld us together
Neither of us wanting to get up or move for fear of giving up that feeling of closeness.
Sometimes, it is simply that you are compelled by a
Need to kiss me
or suffer
So you lean down to me, your face so close to mine
I can smell your skin
And feel that need as we linger there
One
Two
Three moments
As though the agony of not giving in to this passion means something more... but then
There it is
The perfect amount of pressure from each of us
As your lips and mine meet.
But, usually in my thoughts it is almost always you touching me so purposefully.
Touching me in that way where you’re
Almost hurting me
Or actually hurting me
Scaring me
You see the fear written in my eyes
And I like it
So very much
because that means you want me just as I thought.
I feel the need to confess...
I read everything.
I mean, almost everything.
I read everything I could get my hands on.
And looked closely at you.
Every recess of your thoughts probed with mine for the want of being surrounded by you.
All the grime and disgust for me that wreaks from your thoughts.
All the romance you pull from fucking; placing it on a pedestal and then spinning it like a mad man.
All the times I wanted for you and also hated for you.
All the self flagellation that I’ve grown to admire.
All the sleepless nights I’ve joined you from afar.
Every hand I’ve wanted to reach out and intertwine with my own.
Every shared moment of honesty, painstakingly fictionalized to a degree.
Every warped, kinky thought of yours...
And I think
... I love you.
This is a great thread already! And now that I have the back story, I will stop calling you Mooch and call you Moochie
If I just asked nicely, could you do it without all the ripping and dry stuff?
Moochie
Thanks for the new thread. WE (Delightful Herald and I) look forward to many more entertaining, enthralling , intriguing musings, missives and pics and maybe a recipe for your pumpkin butter providing it spreads easily
With love
Pulls up a chair. Love the smells of old books and reading wonderful words. You are beautiful and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
Welcome back beautiful. Looking forward to your continued journey.
Well I wouldn't like my ass "ripped" apart but..... I'd like that strapon used on my ass. Plus other things.
I am so very glad this rebirth has happened with you choosing the path you want to take. The moon answered my prayers.
I must have missed this in its original incarnation, but I am going to pull up a chair and stay awhile. You are gorgeous and write incredibly well. Glad to have found this new thread!
I am working my way through your thread, but I wanted to make sure I replied to your return. You have already been welcomed back by many, but you knew at some point I would welcome you as well. I have missed everything about you, including your straightforwardness. More replies from me may be upcoming, but I'll try to keep the rest to one post.
((HUGGLES))
It’s raining.
Thank you Nature.
- Moochie
What a wonderful and stimulating post and the picture attached is just breathtakingly beautiful, I have seen that book before but never read....any good?
And yep I don't want to be right either
Wow..to both picture and prose!
Wow... I have missed the way your words make me feel. The longing and the desire to feel those touches. The thoughts that go through my mind... Look, you're a very beautiful and desirable woman, that I think I have established over several comments in the past... but put together with your words, mind and intellect, you are just a truly wonderful and amazing woman.
((HUGGLES))
Totes in the bag.
Well well well wahooo go you
Love the back story - your assertive powerfullness.. its alluring you know that eh - its bloody awesome. Keep being you - i'd love to not say dont have your lower days -but that is what makes you you - you're awesome - really you are.
Much love
J
Moochienanu? What the fuck kind of name is that?!
Why should anyone taken issue with your name, as this site is full of peculiar names, (and some peculiar people), holding my hand up, I even misspelled mine, and no one has pulled me up for that.
On a different subject is your poetry all your own, and does it take for ever to compose?
Here too. It's making me sleepy. *stretch, yawn*
The drops outside are the second thing I heard this morning
It’s okay.
There’s something about the lulling sounds of a crying sky...
I will hope I wasn’t too loud that I woke you this morning *wink*
It’s more than okay.
*sits next to you* Welcome! Glad you’ve found a comfy spot. Have as many cushions as you like, but no taking any from the blanket fort, those stay because sitting straight on the floor hurts my bum these days. *grumbles about getting older*
*Eyes blanket fort* Can I bring the crayons?!?
And I think
... I love you.
More of a crystal clear frozen tundra here. Freezing fog hanging in the distance.
No strap on please, we’ve just met!!! lol
You're right! There was just enough wind from the west which had the raindrops hitting my bedroom window. It was very peaceful and relaxing. I love to drift off to sleep to the sound of rain. If I had my choice I much prefer the sound of waves on the shore, but alas, I am somewhat land locked for that luxury.
The "crying sky"... is nice but sometimes a sky that is throwing a temper tantrum is equally nice, I do enjoy the sound of thunder, too!
*Eyes blanket fort* Can I bring the crayons?!?
Yes. My poetry is all mine.
Standing up and applauding in amazement, (although I don't look a lot taller when standing). I wouldn't know where to begin, yours in not just three lines but has a beginning ,middle and end.
you certainly know a great deal about dust, it cannot be because because you do not have not a spotless home, as you have enough time on your hands, (time to write poetry) enough to give your house more than a dowry clout.
I'm glad to see that you indulge in interesting reading material, but my advice would be to choose a smaller book for your next provocative photo -- maybe a paperback.
I feel ineloquent.
Unable to say what I need or want to
To you.
I am awestruck
I find myself stumbling
Like a fangirl running after you with a pen and your old headshot.
I want to be near you
Know you better,
But I just plain suck at the small talking and the getting to “know” people.
Plus, there’s this strange thing with you
I feel like I’ve known you forever
And we have shared spaces
And know how the other’s mannerisms
Indicate wants
so I tend to skip the small talk
And just relax into that mindset.
I wish I were a better conversationalist
So that I could explain it all a bit better
For you.
And you would see me...
Or better yet, feel me
Across a room full of others
We make eye contact
There is that pull
Bringing us together
Like magnets
Drawn to your eye
Always.