8:14 p.m. - February 17, 2003
This is lust, this unbearable desire
I�m sitting here with a boner � boner? Yes, as in adolescent hormones out-of-control giddy fucking excitement damn the consequences and thus the lexical selection is more apt than other semantically-limited options � and I can�t wait I can�t wait I can�t wait. Be glad I lack a digital camera, otherwise Non-Descript would morph overnight into a porn site. He�s teasing me, knowing how horny I am and relishing the effect he has on me. My palms are moist and I�m literally aching. Aching. Do you understand this? I�m going into stimuli-overload and how am I to study for tomorrow? Each peek I glimpse gives me the good-feeling chills and there, I just clapped my hands together. I need to get a grip. Get a grip!
He�s missed me. And I�ve missed him.
But too much sex this weekend and we both must buckle down this week, he for his training and me for the paper I�m to write and I cannot fathom how I will manage everything. Manage!
I didn�t have a clue until we went to the mall so he could get Part II to complete Part I and I thought that was all until I saw Parts I and II together and reread the first paragraph � stimuli overload. I�m feeling shy and overwhelmed and embarrassed to admit here; I�m not a writer of erotica any more than I�m cogent with my emotions and any attempt would fall far short.
Maybe I�m overly excited because I don�t get out enough? Truly, I�m calm; no, not really. The anticipation is killing me and right now he�s on the telephone and sending me one of those grins and I want to go over there and lick him. Lick him all over! Is this me admitting I have carnal desires? I would knock my head on the floor if it would relieve this tension.
He did this just for me and how he remembered that whispered confession a year and a half ago makes me smile and damn! ache.
How the hell am I supposed to write about this?
I can�t even say it. I�m a prude, uptight, uncomfortable.
[edited] my eyes can�t settle on one place so they�re rolling around like Pep� le Peu�s from the cartoon. A dangerous combination of his being hot and him knowing it � and knowing how to use it � intimidates me and this is why I call him daddy, because it fits too well. Other guys look at him when we�re outside but it�s me who gets to rub his chest and kiss his biceps and lick his pecs, it�s me who gets to run my face across his and whimper the way he likes, use his favorite term for his cock and it is apt, it is deft in its description and connotation and I do not care! I do not care!
This is lust.
When he showed me he said it�s the look in my eyes that turns him on, as if I�m unsure whether to stay or run. It�s more than that; it�s an eager wariness. Does that make any sense?
