soapboxdiner

Come hither, my forbidden

Oh, dear reader. Life was not a box of chocolates for SBD today. No no no. It all started so innocently, the looks, the laughs, and shared rides in the golf cart. Oh yes, innocent. Too innocent, if you ask me. As if the quality has taken on an air of force when all the while, underneath, there is a seething fire in the loins of two people whose love should never be. I fear there is a hateful taboo keeping one's love from the other.

We both know it is wrong, but baby, we don't want to be right. I tell you, when a man looks like this:

And smells like this:

and looks at you like this:

then it can only be right, right?

But it is not to be, for me, dear reader. He is but a wee tot of 18, fuzzy of cheek and rosy of spirit. Though he comes to me and gazes up and then down my round self and tells me, "You're funny." Those words of adoration still cannot sway me. They must not.

But it does not change the fact that I would like to lick him in places even his mother has never seen.

But still, I have all due and proper respect for the boy. I do. I'd yet respect him more if he'd pose in a grecoroman stance while holding a grape leaf in front of his proud loins. And then, you know, touch me.

And that's a lot of respect, dammit.

7:10 pm - 12.30.02
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