Desultory and Impulsive
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rubydlite
*poof*...mostly
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y=mx+b
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y=mx+b
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The Struggle.
"You are still needed."
"Not like I want to be."
I thought further and quietly to myself.... "Not needed like I once was."
The fact of the matter was that I liked being her little play thing. I liked how she came off with a need to be wanted. And how when she did, she did in such a way that expressed a want to be taken.
Now... Now she no longer needs that from me and I feel... stuck. Helpless. With nothing to offer.
I have since come to realize the struggle of being sequestered to the friend-zone. To be amongst the rest she no longer has a desire to sexually attract. Stuck in a type of purgatory, fully aware of her wants--but no longer in need of my pursuit of them.
"You are still needed."
"Not like I want to be."
I thought further and quietly to myself.... "Not needed like I once was."
The fact of the matter was that I liked being her little play thing. I liked how she came off with a need to be wanted. And how when she did, she did in such a way that expressed a want to be taken.
Now... Now she no longer needs that from me and I feel... stuck. Helpless. With nothing to offer.
I have since come to realize the struggle of being sequestered to the friend-zone. To be amongst the rest she no longer has a desire to sexually attract. Stuck in a type of purgatory, fully aware of her wants--but no longer in need of my pursuit of them.
y=mx+b
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In the midst of yet another winter storm...
...and this all appeals to me very much right now.
...and this all appeals to me very much right now.
y=mx+b
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Mostly for the experience
You know?
Being close
And closed in
In an intimate setting
Where reality just kinda bends
And fucking just happens however it does.
Sadly
I'm to the point of age
Where the mere fantasy of pursuing such an experience
Strikes me as rather... desperate.
I actually feel rather foolish having shared those links with you all.
Nobody needs to know any of that about me.
You know?
Being close
And closed in
In an intimate setting
Where reality just kinda bends
And fucking just happens however it does.
Sadly
I'm to the point of age
Where the mere fantasy of pursuing such an experience
Strikes me as rather... desperate.
I actually feel rather foolish having shared those links with you all.
Nobody needs to know any of that about me.
A
AlliaPotestas
Guest
“The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care”
S
Sexybritches69
Guest
I enjoyed the links. I thought they were sexy. We all get in moods where we want certain things, especially those grey areas, the blurry lines that surround the defined “acceptable activities”. Thank you for sharing.
y=mx+b
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Indeed.
You are welcome. However I wish to clarify any confusion as to why I feel foolish about my previous post.
I do not feel foolish for my wants and desires or for the overt bisexual nature of the links. I am not ashamed of having any one particular sexual proclivity.
What I feel foolish about is feeling the need to make it known. The sharing of such about myself is dead information that does nothing to appease my interest.
If I were to dig deeper and question my motive as to why I shared the such the only answer I have to offer is that I did so in hopes someone would reply back saying... "fuck..... god, me too." Thereby causing me to feel just a little bit less alone.
To a degree both you and AlliaP did
And I am thankful.
Attachments
A
AlliaPotestas
Guest
Love this pic - the carpet in the foreground almost makes me feel the sensation on your skin as you press into it. Beautifully shot, x
y=mx+b
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y=mx+b
___________
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It's too early
For me
To want to feel my tongue
Slide across the tight musculature
Of a woman's asshole.
The barbaric nature of the act
The smell of her body
The fuck of my want
Burying my face
Up into her
Spreading her cheeks
Hearing her slight wet
Separate
Warmth and womanhood
Laying prone
For my touch and taste
To make love to
For me
To want to feel my tongue
Slide across the tight musculature
Of a woman's asshole.
The barbaric nature of the act
The smell of her body
The fuck of my want
Burying my face
Up into her
Spreading her cheeks
Hearing her slight wet
Separate
Warmth and womanhood
Laying prone
For my touch and taste
To make love to
Arianthe
Freak of feminine nature
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y=mx+b
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Searching For An End to Love
To find her was inevitable
Curiosity was part of being alive
And unlike her
He still was.
Snow that had been plowed but refroze to the street
Crushed under the slow revolution of a car driven in idle.
He wasn't there
He wasn't in it
He didn't feel like he was anyway
But he was
And he was fighting off
The dregs of regret
Of having found
Where she was
Her final resting place.
The car stopped
He stayed in
Not moving
This was her
Her home
Where she was
And would always be.
To find her was inevitable
Curiosity was part of being alive
And unlike her
He still was.
Snow that had been plowed but refroze to the street
Crushed under the slow revolution of a car driven in idle.
He wasn't there
He wasn't in it
He didn't feel like he was anyway
But he was
And he was fighting off
The dregs of regret
Of having found
Where she was
Her final resting place.
The car stopped
He stayed in
Not moving
This was her
Her home
Where she was
And would always be.
A
AlliaPotestas
Guest
I have no words so I unimaginativly steal them a book I’ve just read:
“Moving on, as a concept, is for stupid people, because any sensible person knows grief is a long-term project. I refuse to rush.”
y=mx+b
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That said...
The woman that I would call my first girlfriend back in muddle school posted a picture of herself on Instagram and it really made me feel... nostalgic?
I don't know... maybe not nostalgic.
It's a weird warm feeling.
One that I don't remember having felt.
It's like... every time our digital paths cross I find myself feeling a want to message her just to say... "hey." To which she would probably say "hey..." back. And I would feel awkward and she would wait feeling equally awkward in a quite expectant anticipation of my reply back
And I would sit stupidly looking at my phone wondering why I messaged her and in fear of my next words without even knowing what they were to be, until I wrote "yeah..." Which she would probably write "yeah..." back
And we would both just kinda know... even though it all would be so uncertain.
But... Perhaps I'm projecting
Perhaps all this is in my head and I'm assuming she would do all that and feel the same way about her memories as I do for that of my own.
The woman that I would call my first girlfriend back in muddle school posted a picture of herself on Instagram and it really made me feel... nostalgic?
I don't know... maybe not nostalgic.
It's a weird warm feeling.
One that I don't remember having felt.
It's like... every time our digital paths cross I find myself feeling a want to message her just to say... "hey." To which she would probably say "hey..." back. And I would feel awkward and she would wait feeling equally awkward in a quite expectant anticipation of my reply back
And I would sit stupidly looking at my phone wondering why I messaged her and in fear of my next words without even knowing what they were to be, until I wrote "yeah..." Which she would probably write "yeah..." back
And we would both just kinda know... even though it all would be so uncertain.
But... Perhaps I'm projecting
Perhaps all this is in my head and I'm assuming she would do all that and feel the same way about her memories as I do for that of my own.
S
Sexybritches69
Guest
There are some nice places by me. Come on over ;-)
y=mx+b
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