7:28 a.m. - October 23, 2003
On men, simply
Working at the electrical training program for the remainder of this week and all of next and while I can only gaze in lust at his lips that say kiss me and the bubble-butt ass that says mount me, I take comfort in knowing he's becoming my Electrician Buddy and this is but Objective A of Objective Sex. He is lucious, lucious, lucious. Unfortunately dumb, so he is not lifetime mate material, but this gives me time to be thankful that blessings are spread out over the people instead of being concentrated in a hot electrician student who thinks it's fun to ask me the dirty signs in ASL. I oblige; when it comes to interacting with him, all standards of conduct are held in abeyance. Yesterday I watched him (covertly, I hope) adjust himself and I derived some thrill just by seeing something move down below. Ah, the deliciousness of torment. [Editor's note: Big grin, silly smile] He's a nice guy and always strikes up conversation though he's confounded by what linguistics is; he pronounces it "logistics" and that's just damn cute.
Enough about him. There are plenty other men I wouldn't mind licking in the program. There's the guy from Survivor (really!) with the incredible gray eyes, another who raises his shirt all the time so I can admire his pecs and happy trail (Oz, join me - it's a constant straight-man tease-fest), and then the one in the far back, right corner who is Daddy. Short of wearing a sign, how does one inform another that oral sex will be gladly delivered, no questions asked? When I'm standing in front of that room I constantly worry I'm going to bone up as my hands go on about electrical circuits and describing the schematics with ladders and rungs and trips and more, while my eyes soak in the testosterone and my thoughts are preoccupied with bathroom fantasies.
Ah, this is bad. I'll stop now.
Of course, you know I'll never follow up on this. It makes me laugh to think how silly I am, but trust me - I breathe in deeply each time one of them walks by.
And the downer (inevitable?): I feel like a girl. Must get over that.
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