mastvam
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Aug 15, 2006
- Posts
- 175
Woke up this morning, as an old friend once put it, so horny that I could fuck mud. So horny that I could even consider leaving one of those hail mary, fuck me now personal ads, "Must lick your pussy today, I am in East Portland... Please sniff the stench of my desperation..." I took pictures of myself that I still am considering posting, because this site sure doesn't have enough pictures of lonely guys flashing cock... I thought about the stories I am sketching in my head to submit to the site, but I am too distracted to form coherent fantasies today... Instead I think about this and that, moving through a rapid fire of fantasies so quickly that none quite takes hold...
I think about the hot woman who lives across the courtyard, how my swimsuit almost embarrasses myself every time I see her at the pool, I think about her knocking on my door right now for some random reason, and I open hoping my thoughts do not betray me as a bad plunky bass line starts up on the sound track...
I think about the gorgeous woman in blue jeans in the picture thread who wants people to write her telling her what they do when they look at her pictures... I think about what I would do if she was here, dressed like she is in her pictures...
I think about being watched, I think about watching... I think about you watching me as I watch you...
I think about writing new endings to missed possibilities...
I think about C., who once called me an ex-boyfriend though I never thought of her as a girlfriend since we never consummated, never even kissed... I think about the time at the club when she looked perfect and I could not take my eyes off her as she danced, and I sat there feeling like the luckiest man in the world because she was there with me, and then she came over to me and sat on my lap, and I quickly had to stand and offer her the seat because I did not, because we had never kissed, because we had never made love, want her to feel what she was doing to me...
I think about the woman at the party with the long curly red hair who, late, as the night was winding down, drug some dorky wannabe rocker over to the couch I was sitting on and performed some strange lap dance move on him that started with a grind and ended with her legs in the air with her skirt up, panties pointing at the ceiling, with the back of her head resting in my lap. She did this three times as her friends snickered and pointed, and I always wondered what the story behind this scene was...
I think about when N. and I were on vacation in Santa Barbra, staying with one of her old friends. I think about how her friend once said, "you two are really quiet, I don't hear you at night." There was nothing to hear. I think about our trip to the beach, with N.'s swimsuit revealing the dark edges of her pubes as her friend lay out topless, perfect breasts and hard nipples, and how the scene made me hard, and how I laid there on my back and didn't care, hoping someone would say something (again, cue the bad bass line), and assuming that no one would... I think about later that night when her friend and I gave N. a massage as she lay there in her underwear and, again, no lines were crossed... After the trip, the two quit speaking to each other and I never knew why, but I always wondered if some proposition was made and refused... But I am a guy, and so horny I could fuck mud today.
I should be working now, writing about dead poets, but I cannot focus. I should go out and do something, but I fear that I would start humping on the first beautiful woman I saw like a bad puppy dog. I should just jerk off and deal with it, but the though of coming alone saddens me...
Instead, I write about desire and I write about the failure of desire.
I wonder what would have happened if I did not move, letting C. feel what she was doing to me. I wonder what would have happened if I had moved my hand a half an inch during N.'s massage... I have been bold in the past, but those times the courage in my heart failed me, and now... I sit here like a virgin, constantly wondering, worrying, and dreaming...
I am proud of myself, I feel like, when I am in a confident mood, that I look better than I ever have in my life. I feel like I have more to offer a lover than I ever have before in my life, but life can be cruel, and I live in a town where I know practically no one in circumstances where I can meet practically no one, and I worry that it has been so long that I have forgotten the art of seduction, but there has been no one to seduce.
So I sit here like a born again virgin, marveling at my arousal, wondering if it will ever be put to use, and dreaming of times long ago left behind.
Just random musings on a random day...
I think about the hot woman who lives across the courtyard, how my swimsuit almost embarrasses myself every time I see her at the pool, I think about her knocking on my door right now for some random reason, and I open hoping my thoughts do not betray me as a bad plunky bass line starts up on the sound track...
I think about the gorgeous woman in blue jeans in the picture thread who wants people to write her telling her what they do when they look at her pictures... I think about what I would do if she was here, dressed like she is in her pictures...
I think about being watched, I think about watching... I think about you watching me as I watch you...
I think about writing new endings to missed possibilities...
I think about C., who once called me an ex-boyfriend though I never thought of her as a girlfriend since we never consummated, never even kissed... I think about the time at the club when she looked perfect and I could not take my eyes off her as she danced, and I sat there feeling like the luckiest man in the world because she was there with me, and then she came over to me and sat on my lap, and I quickly had to stand and offer her the seat because I did not, because we had never kissed, because we had never made love, want her to feel what she was doing to me...
I think about the woman at the party with the long curly red hair who, late, as the night was winding down, drug some dorky wannabe rocker over to the couch I was sitting on and performed some strange lap dance move on him that started with a grind and ended with her legs in the air with her skirt up, panties pointing at the ceiling, with the back of her head resting in my lap. She did this three times as her friends snickered and pointed, and I always wondered what the story behind this scene was...
I think about when N. and I were on vacation in Santa Barbra, staying with one of her old friends. I think about how her friend once said, "you two are really quiet, I don't hear you at night." There was nothing to hear. I think about our trip to the beach, with N.'s swimsuit revealing the dark edges of her pubes as her friend lay out topless, perfect breasts and hard nipples, and how the scene made me hard, and how I laid there on my back and didn't care, hoping someone would say something (again, cue the bad bass line), and assuming that no one would... I think about later that night when her friend and I gave N. a massage as she lay there in her underwear and, again, no lines were crossed... After the trip, the two quit speaking to each other and I never knew why, but I always wondered if some proposition was made and refused... But I am a guy, and so horny I could fuck mud today.
I should be working now, writing about dead poets, but I cannot focus. I should go out and do something, but I fear that I would start humping on the first beautiful woman I saw like a bad puppy dog. I should just jerk off and deal with it, but the though of coming alone saddens me...
Instead, I write about desire and I write about the failure of desire.
I wonder what would have happened if I did not move, letting C. feel what she was doing to me. I wonder what would have happened if I had moved my hand a half an inch during N.'s massage... I have been bold in the past, but those times the courage in my heart failed me, and now... I sit here like a virgin, constantly wondering, worrying, and dreaming...
I am proud of myself, I feel like, when I am in a confident mood, that I look better than I ever have in my life. I feel like I have more to offer a lover than I ever have before in my life, but life can be cruel, and I live in a town where I know practically no one in circumstances where I can meet practically no one, and I worry that it has been so long that I have forgotten the art of seduction, but there has been no one to seduce.
So I sit here like a born again virgin, marveling at my arousal, wondering if it will ever be put to use, and dreaming of times long ago left behind.
Just random musings on a random day...
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