Twenty year Veteran of Tulane and Broad. Punk Rocker Attorney and Author looking for that wierd girl who is proud of her lack of conformity, but can manage to be successful despite being different. Ink and Dye is expected, but not necessary. Some people just have a unique perspective and no fear of being brutally honest.
"... and If they can''t take a joke, F**K Em!" - My Dad. Ask about his goat story.😎
Dad, Philosopher, Humanist, Toaist, Former Professional Conservationist, Geek, Great Cook
Apology
This is an apology to you,
the one who yearned for my glance,
although you clearly missed it.
I want to apologize for my upbringing; being raised to believe that gentlemen and ladies are those who make everyone around them as comfortable as possible, that I am not the man for you.
I wish I could be the man who approaches you brazenly, the one who invades your wanton space.
Can I use a crass line to present my true intentions?
It flies in the face of generational instruction, yet I have witnessed your desire.
You desperately hope our gaze to meet, our eyes to lock in mystical understanding. Consent is not implied, it is explicit in your expression.
Few words of introduction and invitation are immediately realized in transportation and arrival to our mutual touchstone of fantasy.
I would hear a mentally conditioned familial exultation as I consumed you with my mouth and tongue. My fear of offence would keep me from slowly sliding my open hand up you neck and tightening my fist into a ball of your hair as I caress you body flinching from passion released, that I could only construe as rejection.
The delicate removal of your garments does not fulfill your need to feel the lace; that you carefully protected throughout the night, from being firmly pressed into your skin. The fantasy I have been fed, does not allow me to grab you with all my lust and give you the little death you seek.
Clamps, and ropes, and leather straps, flogs and masks, s*x swings, hot wax, choking you until our mutual climax feels like we have fallen down the rabbit hole into a bower of bubbly bliss; these things I cannot do. Not with the way I was raised.
So again forgive me for being shy. Forgive me for not complimenting your purple hair or asking about your ink. I know you wish I would tell you how fabulous your dress is and compliment your shoes. I could never be so bold as to tell you that from the first moment I saw you, I wanted to make you mine completely.
My only hope for the salvation from my hesitation is your glance, your approach, your confirmation the demons inside my head; that want to tear you down to the basest pleasure, are offered to my flesh voluntarily and directly.
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