Sexuality.
I really revel in my sexuality. I'm a trumped up sex kitten on a rampage, some days. I'm aware of the physical effect I generally have on men and I use it to its utmost. I've been told I exude sexuality; that simply looking at me makes men think of sex. I don't disagree with that at all. Most days, sex drips from my pores.
I think that's because I have no sexual hangups. I've fucked people I've barely known, I've been involved in just about every type of consensual sexual behavior known to man. I don't judge anyone, I act on the principle of pleasure (if it feels good, do it!). When people look at me, they see a girl who isn't afraid to tell someone what she wants. I'm a "ready to rock" chick, says my boss. No regret, no hesitation.
My entire day was spent fucking with the kid. He wants me so badly, in his high school way. He's a cute kid - witty, smart, mature. I bought popsicles for everyone at worked and thoroughly enjoyed making him squirm while I sucked on the end of my bombpop. I filled my six hours by being flirtatious, raunchy, sexually aware. I'd brush my arm against his at the cash register, I took a bite of my popsicle while he was holding it (I was ringing someone up). Is that wrong?*bats eyelashes*
Coming out of work today, I had on a lavender cardigan. It was hotter than hell out (and my personal version of hell would definitely contain this much humidity), and I didn't think twice about taking my sweater off. I had a skimpy wife beater under it, covering a black push up bra. Sure, I looked white trash as hell. But I was cooler. I was unashamed of my body, and every man in that parking lot took notice.
Quite the lucky man I've got, certainly. I may flirt with other people, sometimes knowingly and sometimes not, but he's the one I want. He's the one I want to marry, he's the one I want to come home to. I don't even want to fuck anyone else, which is totally weird for me. I guess there is such a thing as fate.
I think that's because I have no sexual hangups. I've fucked people I've barely known, I've been involved in just about every type of consensual sexual behavior known to man. I don't judge anyone, I act on the principle of pleasure (if it feels good, do it!). When people look at me, they see a girl who isn't afraid to tell someone what she wants. I'm a "ready to rock" chick, says my boss. No regret, no hesitation.
My entire day was spent fucking with the kid. He wants me so badly, in his high school way. He's a cute kid - witty, smart, mature. I bought popsicles for everyone at worked and thoroughly enjoyed making him squirm while I sucked on the end of my bombpop. I filled my six hours by being flirtatious, raunchy, sexually aware. I'd brush my arm against his at the cash register, I took a bite of my popsicle while he was holding it (I was ringing someone up). Is that wrong?*bats eyelashes*
Coming out of work today, I had on a lavender cardigan. It was hotter than hell out (and my personal version of hell would definitely contain this much humidity), and I didn't think twice about taking my sweater off. I had a skimpy wife beater under it, covering a black push up bra. Sure, I looked white trash as hell. But I was cooler. I was unashamed of my body, and every man in that parking lot took notice.
Quite the lucky man I've got, certainly. I may flirt with other people, sometimes knowingly and sometimes not, but he's the one I want. He's the one I want to marry, he's the one I want to come home to. I don't even want to fuck anyone else, which is totally weird for me. I guess there is such a thing as fate.
This entry was posted by Mellie, on
Saturday, June 04, 2005.
