Frangipani

Polyamory, bisexuality and maybe even some atheism

Impure thoughts March 1, 2008

Filed under: Lust — Araliya @ 6:16 pm
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(No I’m not Catholic, but I think my parents’ generation being educated by Catholic nuns figures heavily in my family’s psyche anyway.)

It’s just one of those days. Gorgeous sunshine but a chill in the air that makes staying in bed particularly delicious. My feet were so cold I could feel each toe singing with it, but the rest of me was nice and warm under my soft, cuddly blanket. I love blankets. And quilts. That’s probably why I like the cold so much – you get to bundle up and feel held and warm.

Sleeping in is nice, specially when you’re just awake enough to think about certain people and what you’d like to do to/with them. Certain people being, specifically, a crush and his girlfriend. In real life, I try to avoid them because there’s no sense getting all worked up for no reason, but when I’m lazing around with nothing too pressing to attend to, I think of the little things about them that turn me on. He has a tendency to go about in shirts with the cuffs rolled up and the first few buttons tastefully undone. No expanse of chest or anything too in-your-face; just the tiniest bit of skin showing at the neck that makes me want to rip the whole thing off in one go. She has wavy hair that just touches her shoulders. I can’t explain how hair can look like it wants anything, but hers looks like it is desperate to touch her gorgeous skin properly. Hmm. Perhaps I’m projecting?

Suffice it to say that they are two particularly wonderful examples of human beauty. He’s at that mid-thirties to mid-forties stage where men look pretty much as gorgeous as they ever will. Still young, still strong, but tempered, a little weathered, even a little grey. It’s the way their skin sits on their faces, the way they’ve finally grown into their bodies, that is utterly delicious. She’s a bit younger – closer to my age, which makes her body more familiar than an older woman’s. I know how taut the skin will be, how her just-right breasts will look when she lies on her back, when she arches is, when she sits up, when she bends forward. (I nearly fell off my chair the other day when she leaned forward in her seat to rummage for ages in her bag for a pen. I had an extra but no power on earth could have made me offer it to her and ruin the view.)

I could so get in the middle of that.

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