I Imagine


There she is. 

I’ve seen her a few times before, passing by on the nearby running trail, then inside the coffee shop afterward. Fidgeting while I waited, sipping my coffee, I’ve been hoping she’d be here, wanting to see her again. 

Standing a few feet away from the pick-up counter, leaning against the wall, she periodically looks up from her phone, while she waits. She’s probably thinking of what she’ll make for dinner, what errand she needs to run, or what bill needs to be paid, oblivious to my stare.

My eyes are always drawn to her, and today is no exception. In fact, I’m taken aback. I honestly don’t think I’ve blinked since I noticed her. I’d thought she was beautiful before, all natural and in her running gear, but…wow. Today, she isn’t wearing her running clothes, she’s dressed comfortably, with a casual elegance about her. 

She takes my breath away. 

Her light brown, knit sweater has a low neck, draping in folds to reveal her collarbones, and I can’t stop staring. I’m mesmerized by the way the thin bones angle slightly upward, her skin dipping down between the bone and the rounded shoulder muscle, begging for attention. They’re exquisite, perfect really. 

The drape of her sweater at its lowest point rests upon her full, round breasts, showing off their firmness. Dark and tight, her jeans hug the curve of her backside, which flows effortlessly to muscular legs, accentuated by the way the jeans tuck into her knee high, brown leather, riding boots. They have a slight heel, making her a bit taller, but still a few inches shorter than me. 

A sun-kissed, olive tone, her complexion is marked with a few stray freckles, my eyes dancing from one to the next, in anticipation.
Straight and sandy-brown, with caramel highlights, her hair hangs just past her shoulders, smooth and shiny. And with eyes a subtle brown, and thin, perfectly shaped lips a dark shade of pink, her face is kind, welcoming, content.

One of other women I often see stops to chat with her, and I’m instantly envious. She smiles as she talks, her expression at once tender and animated, emanating an aura of sultriness. Her hands move as she speaks, delicate and soft looking, with manicured nails on thin fingers. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, her hips move with a fluid confidence.

I stand from my stool to take a few steps closer so I can hear, not because I want to hear what she’s saying, but because I just need to hear the sound of her voice. Without looking, I listen, not wanting her to know I’m paying her too much attention, nor drawing any attention to myself. I hear a silvery voice that is smooth, airy and confident. Sexy. I get the feeling when she speaks, she means exactly what she says.

As I listen, I can’t help myself. I imagine.

I imagine what it might be like to trace her perfect collarbones with my fingertips. To walk up to her, reaching my arm behind her head to slowly move her silky hair to the side, so I can lean in and lick the dips in the skin, tracing up her neckline with my tongue, leaving a chilly, wet trail all the way to her magnificent breasts. 

I wonder if she’d be still, or if she’d sway, moving those fluid hips, shifting her weight to be nearer my touch as I cup those breasts, massaging them, biting them. I imagine that sultry voice, how her head might lean down over mine so she can whisper in my ear how good I feel, begging me not to stop. 

My stomach is in knots thinking of how smooth and delicate her palms might feel gripping my face, as my tongue touches those beautifully thin lips, reveling in the softness and warmth of her. I want to know how her fingers might feel tangled in my hair, how her nails might dig into my back as I make her moan. 

I imagine my hands covering her ass as I push her back into that wall, pulling her body into mine, our legs entwined, thighs pushing up between one other’s legs. My face is flush as I imagine her breathy moans when I slide my hand into the front of her jeans to feel how wet she is, running my fingers back and forth over her folds, finding her sweet spot to rub in small, quick circles. 

Most of all, I imagine those luscious, brown eyes looking into mine, filled with hunger while I tell her to come for me. 

My pants are quickly getting tighter, and my breathing has quickened, threatening to reveal my thoughts to those around me. I can feel the heat in my cheeks, and now I’m the one shifting my weight from foot to foot, trying to persuade my body to calm down. 

Needing to take a quick breather, I walk toward the restroom, heading in her direction. Just as I’m almost in front of her, she looks up, eye to eye with me, and smiles. I smile back, keeping eye contact until I’m past, then walk into the restroom. As I splash cold water on my face, I decide I must introduce myself as soon as I’m finished. I need to hear her voice, to see her smile again. 

Hurrying, I open the door and turn the corner to find her….but she’s gone. 

-image found on Pinterest, saved from inrichting-huis.com; shared also as part of Masturbation Monday

23 thoughts on “I Imagine

    • My blog writings are a hodge-podge of journal entries, non-fiction creative writings, erotica, and poetry. Pretty much whatever speaks to me at the moment! That writing you read was something I’d revised from about 3 years ago, at a point in our relationship when we were beginning to live a more formal power exchange dynamic, and I was really delving deeply into my past behavior and confronting things within myself. That woman I wrote about, luckily, hadn’t surfaced in some time and hasn’t since. She was exhausting! Lol

      I’m so happy you enjoyed the writing. I wrote from a male perspective. Sometimes it’s fun to image what goes on in a man’s head.

    • Haha! Thank you very much. This idea actually came to me in my favorite coffee shop, lol. None of the up-against-the-wall action going on there, but I imagine people are checking one another out, like anywhere else! Imagination is a beautiful thing. Thanks, again. ๐Ÿ’œ

      • Well, research says, “checking one another out” happens with men most of the day? I am really impressed at how well you were able to put yourself into a man’s pair of shoes! And what was the address of that coffee shop? Ha! You might cause a stir in that shop if you had them put up your post??

      • Thank you. I think women do it, too, even if they don’t admit it, and that’s one reason why I found it so easy. Lol! I don’t know about that…but maybe so!

  1. Love, love, LOVE this (and so happy to have you for Masturbation Monday this week)!

    I’ve stared at people in public, thinking much the same thing. Funnily enough, I wasn’t sure of the person’s gender until about halfway through – because I identified so much with their thoughts. Absolutely lovely! ๐Ÿ™‚

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s