If Somehow The World Were … Different

Time carries on. It inevitably changes things. Us. Time is history … moving. We can fight the motion, but we can never keep up with the result. But moving on without a struggle offends human nature. It’s so … defeatist.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m on the brink,

Because …

I remember how I used to think”

“Would you if I asked?” she queries me.

She wants to know what I’m thinking these days. Where I’m at. Really, where I’m going.

“If you texted me more often, you could find things out,” I say.

“I don’t like to ask”. She infers, “Would I tell her the truth?”

“Yes, I only want to see a peek

But if …

You skirt the questions … I’ll just be weak”

Where once there were no secrets there is now caution and timidity and the fear of seeming weak or needy. Instead of brilliant clarity in the relationship, there now are only shadows. Shadows which hide, grey shadings to mask feelings. An illusory mist to dampen and lubricate previously sharp emotions. A veil concealing the feared imperfections.

While dormant, the intensity is there yet. She fears it. I don’t know whether I should get closer. Or go away.

‘No, it won’t ever be like before

Not now …

The Dark craves always for even more”

 

 

 

Advertisements

When Marty Has to Make Choices (1)

A pic of some thong choice Dec 21_15Her simple, classic beauty sucks every breath of air from my lungs each time my eyes set focus on her. And trust me on this, my eyes and my total being are focused when I see her.

We have agreed I will select the thong she is to wear each day.  She lays out the choices for me. Blue, navy, red, charcoal, and the purple. This day I select the purple as she has two important functions to attend and I want her to feel confident that she is dressed regally right down to her flawless bare skin. It wasn’t a tough choice for me.

And I watch as she puts it on. Her grey sweatshirt drops to cover her hardening nipples, and exposes just the bottom half of her tits, before falling to cover them all. But I zero in on her tan line and remind her how much I adore the small trimmed patch to her pussy.

“I love making you happy,” she says.

“With all my perversions about you?” I smile.

“Especially with those,” she winks. “You know how much it turns me on knowing I’m turning you on.”

“Noted,” I respond.

As she slowly pulls the purple piece up above her knees I marvel at the smoothness of her tummy. The thong up, she turns for me so I can appreciate the perfect turn of her ass. Gently rounded, yet firm from every angle. The line of her crack gives me shivers.  No wonder every male she passes stares intently as she slips by them, seemingly not to notice, but I know full well she tracks every man’s eye movement on her.

Cheeky_Bum_Purple_Rain_front_dd39f726-aac3-4a9c-8351-cd73ec05a528_1024x1024[1]Yes, purple was a good choice today. Marty can pick ’em.