She slips into her lingerie
Unperturbed by the grace she has received in all her years of sacrifices and sweltering for a good family
Although it gave her a sense of satisfaction
When everything falls into place
Nothing seems to work well where affairs of the heart and physical longing is concern
it is lost in the midst of it all
Not that she is complaining
But in her endeavor for a better tomorrow
She is still, after all, a woman
Silhouetted inside her own compound
Which is not just a garden
But a playground she hasn’t had the privilege to explore when younger
In all her nakedness
Therein lives the effeminate man tied and knotted to her for good..
.
To her
He is but an innuendo who pleases no one but himself
With her needs and craving bloating within
She hungers for some wayward touch
Someone who could unbox her insatiable needs with care and respect a woman craves
Someone with enough resilience to sail the storm
Someone who understands when her soil needs wetting
And leave moist on her leaves
So she could eagerly wrap her petals around him
With the same attention, care and understanding given her
A wild orchid longing to bloom
Her craving now screams louder than the crashing of waterfall happening below
And thus she rhythmically nurtures herself
Oblivious to the melodrama and reverie
Triggering herself in alternate low high arousal
Immersing her thoughts in the most luscious of cosplay
Herself as the protagonist
At other times, the willing slave
She’s on fire…
.
With each contraction, she jolts to the spasms reacting on her crotch
Harnessing her to wince in delight
She abandons all thoughts of the man bequeathed
For he hasn’t a clue where her hot button situates
He understands neither her needs to have her gape widened to subdue the itch
But her imagery lover does
She yearns for his unassuming gallantry
And strong reassuring arms with a thrust that could make her clamp onto his hips wickedly
And gyrate his hump
She longs for her senses to be awakened
Because she is all woman
.
Her needs may be inconclusive
But right now, all she cares is to soar above the clouds
With a man who could coax the child out of her
She longs to be touched, teased, kissed and kneaded
She longs to be the wholesome woman before the coming of age
To even out the missed opportunities in her teens she so often reminisces
And in her latter years as a damsel caught in distress inside a restrictive society
She wants to be carried under his pinions and more
Much more…
.
Again
she slips back into her lingerie
Again she loses herself in her own thoughts and caresses
But all those delights are but momentary pleasures
For as the sun sets
What which lasts was her struggle with silence and loneliness tormenting her in the fading twilight
As she straddles silently, her grief awaits her in the cuffed room
Of false pretenses…
