77DarkAngel
"Frankly My Dear..."
- Joined
- Oct 12, 2025
- Posts
- 2
Lets see how effective this *UPDATED* post is, if anyone's feeling moved to pick up the thread; if 1 never tries, 1 never knows...hello y'all!
Bluntly, my main aim on Literotica IS real-world/in-person connection (@ the right time, naturally. Which could, erm, be putting the cart WAY ahead of the horse @ this stage! Besides, here remains a good start point). But yeah...connection. Friendship, relationship. Meaningful, real. Savvy? Which would be welcomed (now that kind of thing may, admittedly, be harder to find @ this kind of place; nevertheless...).
(Dating sites [which Literotica isn't of course] being a total ball-ache/just ain't worth it, in my experience [in yours too?]. Hence this approach)
In full clarity, however; if we ARE stickin' to online fun, then hell lets still indulge...
Hmm, why not...a Yeovil (where the helicopters whirl) single fella, in the fair county of Somerset. I'm 48, roughly 5' 10" (lets call it nearly 6'), black-dark brown hair beard moustache (though a few silvers be pokin' through these days), blue eyes.
OK; crafting some poetry, playing with the written word, can be jolly fun. Sooo...here's 1, which seems like it'll fit (well enough) on this site:
============================================================
Smoke In Shaft'd Light
Dust'd motes; inky backdrop's opposition, suspend'd
In likeness of fine-filigreed web, of independent strands.
Carried upon airborne eddies, delicate as moth's fluttering captivation
Wings in staccato...haunting...aerial beat.
In cool tuneful dance, parts equal attraction + repulsion...circling Shaft'd Beam
Around; slim black thrusting (metallic) rod.
Fine-phantomed Smokiness
Miasmatic haze, a subtle touch
Serpentine coils, an insubstantive caress
From sweat'd curiousity, from fragrance hinting, from fags; cigarettes; cigars; & the like, conjoining. Intoxication...of hope, & of damnation.
In cool tuneful dance, parts equal curious + incurious...circling Shaft'd Beam
Around; slim black thrusting (metallic) rod
Mounted; by silent, waiting...patient, mic.
In some classy ("speak easy") joint
Y'all know the establishment's kind
To be found, in towns, in conurbations, in cities; spanning this great Globe.
Yet, as well...in none
Perhaps, as simple echoes, as mere mirages...of older (&, dare I say; better...) times, of other finer days
Rooted in our reality. Or, perchance, in other planes...
Within whose good time walls 'n booths; pure chance encounters, where (fever'd, irresistible...) dreams
May rise; may fall to Earth; may crash, to shatter. Against stone-hard...worn...unforgiving ground, against cold humble every day
Though even so...such reveries may yet be remade still, as strengthened enticing new.
This Shaft'd Beam of Light, warm white
Emanating purity, as some lonesome sentinel, from inky ceiling (or in happenstance, still higher...).
In stark...defiant...contrast
To surrounding shades...watching, in seeming hawkish judgement, unsettling.
Rod 'n mic, centre stage. "Will-o'-the-wisp", "ignis fatuus", writhed
& guardian limelight, @ stage's border...@ your feet.
'Cause as we know; The Show, It Must Go On.
Whosoever...what manner of unnerving presence, of more immediate regard...inhabits those shadows, that ink-blotted trickster void?
I do not, in full honesty, know; it is so very hard to tell.
However, fundamentally...it does not matter. As will be swift(ish)ly explored.
Time to Tread Those Boards...'cause now, my friend, you're on.
In our brief candlelight, "..*****'s but a walking shadow..."; which could well be a truth
Ah yes, The Scottish Play (ie: Taggart. Or possibly Monarch of the Glen...).
Indeed, in alternation; "...The play's the thing! (Wherein, to catch the conscious of a King [or Queen])".
Ahem; with slight respectful adjustments above, to The Bard's great works.
No...let's set aside the highfalutin'-ness, for now. Instead, we should keep it simple(ish):
If thine own goals should appear elusive (though hopefully not delusive!), a la "ignis fatuus", even in this moment; so what?
In this lifetime...
...In YOUR lifetime...
...These goals, these dreams, of personal merit; are YOURS, & YOURS alone.
Therefore, & unless containing heartfelt informed objective truthfulness; other's empty musings, can respectfully (but in general) be left behind.
So, henceforth:
Should there be no other course to chart
Should every other avenue be exhausted
Then verily, fellow masters 'n mistresses (but naturally; in a readin' sense)...
...Give the bastards hell.
Fri 20/6/25
============================================================
(Ah yes; that Date is when this work 'twas started, not necessarily when 'twas finished!)
Do let me know what you think, I'd genuinely be interested to learn.
Now; the above poetry endeavours also translate rather well (@ least in my 'umble opinion), to a penchant for erotic scribblings. Sooo:
============================================================
We stroll together, hand-in-hand, across the churchyard's suggestively-undulating Earth, a spongy green carpet beneath our bare feet (pliant grass blades in ticklish caress...). Shadows lengthen with dusking evening; hmm, that outside face of our humble church seems particularly blessed in inky blackness...
...Enough that, perhaps...we won't (or would barely be...) noticed.
A spark in your eyes. In your gentle...wanting...gaze...
...Returned in mine.
With playful giggles, we steal into our (shared...) shade.
Commandingly (but not too harshly) pushing your feminine frame up against an ancient holy wall, into warm hamstone. Your arms encircling my roughened neck, my fingers entwining your silken hair...as our lips tantalisingly (oh, honey...) brush.
Lord...shuddering, whispered moans.
My hands commence an exploratory descent; mapping firm curves, soft skin, of your fascinating flanks.
Our building heat...together, low gasps.
Hands descending lower...
============================================================
Ladies 'n gents; would you like to continue? (may seem a bit vanilla for now; but I'm sure we can work on it...).
Oh yes, the name's James.
PS; Nice, you've reached
(!)/survived 
(!) the saga's conclusion.
Bluntly, my main aim on Literotica IS real-world/in-person connection (@ the right time, naturally. Which could, erm, be putting the cart WAY ahead of the horse @ this stage! Besides, here remains a good start point). But yeah...connection. Friendship, relationship. Meaningful, real. Savvy? Which would be welcomed (now that kind of thing may, admittedly, be harder to find @ this kind of place; nevertheless...).
(Dating sites [which Literotica isn't of course] being a total ball-ache/just ain't worth it, in my experience [in yours too?]. Hence this approach)
In full clarity, however; if we ARE stickin' to online fun, then hell lets still indulge...
Hmm, why not...a Yeovil (where the helicopters whirl) single fella, in the fair county of Somerset. I'm 48, roughly 5' 10" (lets call it nearly 6'), black-dark brown hair beard moustache (though a few silvers be pokin' through these days), blue eyes.
OK; crafting some poetry, playing with the written word, can be jolly fun. Sooo...here's 1, which seems like it'll fit (well enough) on this site:
============================================================
Smoke In Shaft'd Light
Dust'd motes; inky backdrop's opposition, suspend'd
In likeness of fine-filigreed web, of independent strands.
Carried upon airborne eddies, delicate as moth's fluttering captivation
Wings in staccato...haunting...aerial beat.
In cool tuneful dance, parts equal attraction + repulsion...circling Shaft'd Beam
Around; slim black thrusting (metallic) rod.
Fine-phantomed Smokiness
Miasmatic haze, a subtle touch
Serpentine coils, an insubstantive caress
From sweat'd curiousity, from fragrance hinting, from fags; cigarettes; cigars; & the like, conjoining. Intoxication...of hope, & of damnation.
In cool tuneful dance, parts equal curious + incurious...circling Shaft'd Beam
Around; slim black thrusting (metallic) rod
Mounted; by silent, waiting...patient, mic.
In some classy ("speak easy") joint
Y'all know the establishment's kind
To be found, in towns, in conurbations, in cities; spanning this great Globe.
Yet, as well...in none
Perhaps, as simple echoes, as mere mirages...of older (&, dare I say; better...) times, of other finer days
Rooted in our reality. Or, perchance, in other planes...
Within whose good time walls 'n booths; pure chance encounters, where (fever'd, irresistible...) dreams
May rise; may fall to Earth; may crash, to shatter. Against stone-hard...worn...unforgiving ground, against cold humble every day
Though even so...such reveries may yet be remade still, as strengthened enticing new.
This Shaft'd Beam of Light, warm white
Emanating purity, as some lonesome sentinel, from inky ceiling (or in happenstance, still higher...).
In stark...defiant...contrast
To surrounding shades...watching, in seeming hawkish judgement, unsettling.
Rod 'n mic, centre stage. "Will-o'-the-wisp", "ignis fatuus", writhed
& guardian limelight, @ stage's border...@ your feet.
'Cause as we know; The Show, It Must Go On.
Whosoever...what manner of unnerving presence, of more immediate regard...inhabits those shadows, that ink-blotted trickster void?
I do not, in full honesty, know; it is so very hard to tell.
However, fundamentally...it does not matter. As will be swift(ish)ly explored.
Time to Tread Those Boards...'cause now, my friend, you're on.
In our brief candlelight, "..*****'s but a walking shadow..."; which could well be a truth
Ah yes, The Scottish Play (ie: Taggart. Or possibly Monarch of the Glen...).
Indeed, in alternation; "...The play's the thing! (Wherein, to catch the conscious of a King [or Queen])".
Ahem; with slight respectful adjustments above, to The Bard's great works.
No...let's set aside the highfalutin'-ness, for now. Instead, we should keep it simple(ish):
If thine own goals should appear elusive (though hopefully not delusive!), a la "ignis fatuus", even in this moment; so what?
In this lifetime...
...In YOUR lifetime...
...These goals, these dreams, of personal merit; are YOURS, & YOURS alone.
Therefore, & unless containing heartfelt informed objective truthfulness; other's empty musings, can respectfully (but in general) be left behind.
So, henceforth:
Should there be no other course to chart
Should every other avenue be exhausted
Then verily, fellow masters 'n mistresses (but naturally; in a readin' sense)...
...Give the bastards hell.
Fri 20/6/25
============================================================
(Ah yes; that Date is when this work 'twas started, not necessarily when 'twas finished!)
Do let me know what you think, I'd genuinely be interested to learn.
Now; the above poetry endeavours also translate rather well (@ least in my 'umble opinion), to a penchant for erotic scribblings. Sooo:
============================================================ We stroll together, hand-in-hand, across the churchyard's suggestively-undulating Earth, a spongy green carpet beneath our bare feet (pliant grass blades in ticklish caress...). Shadows lengthen with dusking evening; hmm, that outside face of our humble church seems particularly blessed in inky blackness...
...Enough that, perhaps...we won't (or would barely be...) noticed.
A spark in your eyes. In your gentle...wanting...gaze...
...Returned in mine.
With playful giggles, we steal into our (shared...) shade.
Commandingly (but not too harshly) pushing your feminine frame up against an ancient holy wall, into warm hamstone. Your arms encircling my roughened neck, my fingers entwining your silken hair...as our lips tantalisingly (oh, honey...) brush.
Lord...shuddering, whispered moans.
My hands commence an exploratory descent; mapping firm curves, soft skin, of your fascinating flanks.
Our building heat...together, low gasps.
Hands descending lower...
============================================================ Ladies 'n gents; would you like to continue? (may seem a bit vanilla for now; but I'm sure we can work on it...).Oh yes, the name's James.
PS; Nice, you've reached
(!)/survived (!) the saga's conclusion.
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