Feeling poorly healthwise these past few days.
It's hard to feel sexy.
Noticing a lot of women with knee length pencil skirts
and heeled sandals, naked calves smooth and glistening skin.

The weekend by the ocean was good for me, I feel better and reset.
Hot tubbing, sunsets, balmy breezes.
The lapping of ocean waves soothes me.
I feel more positive.

I want to be back at school, ditching class on sunny days.
Wearing little but sunglasses, a sarong and flip flops.
No undies -- too restrictive.
The smell of sunscreen, nagchampa and herbs wafting in the wind.
Wishing on dandelion heads.
Hiking up to the meadow.
Reading in the shade of a redwood tree.

The whole world ahead of me.
My independent spirit strong and pulsating with life.
Spring spring spring spring
and I want to be on Spring Break.

I want a bacchanalian festival of fruit, fun and fucking.
Not necessarily fucking.
But I want to be loosely wrapped in cloth, be barefoot with my hair down,
healthy, happy, kissable, drunk, dancing, singing, napping like a contented kitty in a beam of sunlight.

That doesn't make me a hippie does it?
I like to take showers and I hate patchouli.
But I am becoming less and less carnivorous all the time.

Song of the Day: Hooverphonic - Barabas

Sharing with you a letter I once wrote to a Master.

It is morning. The sun is just coming up. I awake to
your desire, walk in your desire throughout the day,
and suffer a keen longing for you at night.

If I could awake with your fingers, your tongue on my
breasts, on my neck and collarbone, the scratchy of
your facial hair satisfying my skin. .Mmmm.

Awakening me with kisses, until I stretch and yawn.

Apparently you are intent on having me right away.

But I slide away from you like an eel, walking away
from the bed totally nude while you watch me.

I am going to brush my teeth, wash my face.

I know you want to get inside me. And that you are
slightly vexed.

So I shall go on with my toilette and your eyes grow
dark, I see you out of the corner of my eye and you
are slowly, quietly stalking me like a big jungle cat
and I am your tasty meal.

I begin to ask you innocuous questions about your day,
to which you answer with controlled normalcy. I have
slipped on a short robe which rides high up on my
thighs and exposes glimpses of my bare and shaven
kitty whenever I reach over for something or bend a
bit to the mirror.

I am deliberately ignoring you. I am hoping this will
make you pounce on me.

It's seven in the morning, and we are already awash in
pure lust for each other.

You have not yet pounced on me, and I am getting
antsy. I become a bit more insolent with you, trying
to inflame you with childish flippancy.

You are still vexed with me. and of course you know
what I am doing. And you are watching to see what I
will do next.

I drop the robe and step into the shower. Shampoo,
rinse, repeat. You are coming closer. You begin to
hear slight gasps and moans.

I am fingering myself, on hand stroking my clit and
slipping inside me, the other hand pressed against the
wall for support. I'm desperately trying to cum.

This is the last straw for you. You open the shower
door, grasp me by the wrists and push me against the
wall to stare right into my insolent and heated dark
eyes which challenge and beckon you at the same time.

My parted lips are a submission and you plunder my
mouth with your tongue, and without further ado, lift
my legs around your waist, supporting me by cradling
my bottom, and drop me onto your full length.

Nhmm. Uhh. Fuck your little one.

Punishing and rewarding me for teasing you, by
stuffing me full of your cock . . . Master.

Master doesn't want me anymore. I'm too awake.