I wish I could get “her” off my mind. I am so turned on, I’m wound up tight like a clock. I keep thinking about her. Did I say that I went out to breakfast with “her” yesterday? I kept looking at her hair, at her body. She is rather large, as am I. Large breasts, large hips, so soft. I wish I could get the image of her, with her face moaning in ecstasy out of my mind, but I can’t. I keep thinking about how she felt in my hands, how soft her lips were when I kissed her. The hour of hand holding and finger stroking that led up to the kiss.
I’ve often wished I had someone to share these visions with, but I don’t. So I just close my eyes, and sink into the soft darkness of my memories.
Reading erotica is sometimes what will help, if I can find the sort that is written by women, for women, not written by some man, for another man. I have no desire to fantasize about a 22 year old blond nymph. My fantasies are much more real, much more tactile. The women in my fantasies look like real women. That is the sort of outlet I want.
Ah well, off to dream land...
Peace,
OC
