October 28, 2005
I felt that warm invitation upon my skin. That soft question piercing the follicles, raising the hairs on the back of my neck, sending a shiver across my back. My nipples harden beneath my blouse and I feel my chest rise insinuating that need to be touched. Is it such an unorthodox thing to touch myself I wonder. But I don't care for the answer. In this moment the only thing that interests me is the bulging nodule protruding the crevaces of my womanhood. It aches that deep dark ache that pulsates the stream of silky smooth intoxication, calling for release from the silent sound of that beating drum of extacy. Writhing beneath the sheets, seeking an escape from the inevitable nightly endeavor to be disburdened.... I remember you.
