WyzWmn's World©

the sound: Enigma – Principles of Lust

I dreamed of sex in the shower…

not the kind of sex that is safe
or marital
or repetitive

but
hot
wet
monkey sex

the man is ruddy and handsome
in a bad boy sort of way

he enters the shower wearing
riding leathers and boots and jeans
straight off the road

his red beard and strawberry blonde hair
fresh with the thick sent of a man
who’s ridden long and hard
to get to his destination

his arms are tanned and corded
and his hands are strong
and gentle

he reaches around behind me and
gathers a fist full of wet hair
pulling my head back to expose my throat
and the pulse there

his closely cropped beard
has just enough grey in it to be interesting
and tickles as it drips water to my breast

his breath is hot on me
as his lips graze my nipples
I breath his name
“Micheal”
and place my splayed hands
on both sides of his head
lifting his lips to mine

his kiss is electric
and pulls on me at my core

he lightly runs his tongue
over my lips
and I
whimper

his hands skin down from my shoulders
to almost my elbows
and I am released
bereft

he struggles with his clothes
and we become a tangle
of wet leather
and denim

buttons pop
and his plaid shirt tears

I struggle with his belt buckle
impatient and clumsy in my need

he whispers my name
and presses me up against
the shower wall
lifting me slightly

he is hot and musky
as I breath in his heat
I run my fingertips
down the length of him
and he shivers as I feel
the outline of his core

he raises my leg to his hip
his penis brushes my thigh…..

My eyes open and I am at once awake.

I realize that I am in a strange bed, in an unknown place. I stare at the ceiling and realize too that tears are already rolling down through my hair to the pillow…

I breath his name again, “Michael…I have been dreaming of my Michael
Again”.

[under the auspices of “there’s no such thing as a coincidence” it fascinates me that as I got to the point in this story to recover this post from a piece I’d previously posted without alluding to it’s being from my past life…I had in my mind’s eye this as the perfect piece of music for it’s background…and in the week or so prior to my actually getting to the point in the story to post this…not one but 2 of my friends brought this exact piece of music to my attention…”out of the blue”……curiouser and curiouser!]

the sound: Little River Band – Reminiscing, Elton John – Your Song, Love Story – Henry Mancini, Joan Baez – I Know You Rider, Lionel Richie – Hello, Dan Hill – Sometimes When We Touch, Gordon Lightfoot – If you Could Read my Mind, Ian and Sylvia – Four Strong Winds, Stan Rogers – Northwest Passage

Left alone to my own devices my mind begins to race again….“So”, I think, “here you are”….”I wonder what this is all about?” “are you outta your fuckin mind?” “get the hell outta here you fool!”

I look around the room and again am stunned at the caliber of luxury. Not a single soul looking at the outside of this old clapboard house would know that one whole wall of one of the bedrooms would be an exotic fish tank, nor would they know that it even contained a bedroom that was clearly three, maybe even four times the size of my studio.

I walk to the closet and pulled open the door to reveal a walk in recess that would rival most small shopping malls. I stand breathing, touching, smelling, feeling…trying to get the gist of the person who lives here.

It’s quiet…almost too quiet considering how many people there are outdoors.

I am surrounded by cherry wood cabinets and the smell of cedar. There is a fascinating collection of everything from very very large plaid shirts and jeans, to suits with designer name tags and a whole case of fancy watches. Run down riding boots to designer dress shoes all of which are large enough for me to fit both my feet into them.

As I step out of the closet I look to the other side of the room and see another door…and when I open it I find it leads to a bathroom that would rival the Taj Mahal (er my understanding of the Taj Mahal).

I lean against the wall just inside that room as I look about. There is a sunken marble tub that could easily sit a half dozen, there is a shower stall that’s more of a room than a stall and easily has a half dozen shower heads scattered about the walls at indiscriminate heights and one large one in the center of the shower ceiling that looks for all intents and purposes like the colander that I use to drain pasta at home.

I am awestruck.

“what the fuck is up with this place? Better yet…where the fuck am I?” and “boy could I use a drink” run through my head in quick succession and I slide to the floor.

I feel as if I am invading someone’s privacy and almost immediately I climb back up to my feet and wander back into the bedroom to come to a stop beside the bed. I lean against a poster and lazily watch fish as my mind tries to wrap itself around the how’s and the where’s of my position. This room is a warm oasis by comparison to the elegant yet cold living room and it is so diametrically opposite to the image I’d viewed outside of the building that I feel like maybe…just maybe I’m stoned and when I wake up this will all be a dream.

I shake my head…I’ve not headed back down that path yet again…but still…not much of this truly makes sense to me.

“Well then…if I’m to have a nap I might just as well lie down” and I step back a few paces about to take a running jump at the side of the mile high bed only to notice a small set of steps at the foot of the bed. A small set of steps exactly the same the same color as the plush brown pile carpet and the wood of the bedposts.

“This is just too much like the Princess and the Pea” I think as I kick off my boots and climb up on the bed squirming around to make myself comfy. I pull my hair out of it’s ever present braid and spread it about me on the pillows, but somehow that’s not enough. Never having been one for sleeping in my kit I scuttle out of my jeans and drop them over the side to the floor, then looking at the unlocked door, grab a fistful of eiderdown comforter and pull it over me….just in case.

I think to myself “this is some kind of comfy…a girl could get used to this” but as I eye the door warily I also think “I’m just way too wound up to ever get any sleep…I mean really? Anyone could walk in that door at any minute!”

And that’s the last thought I have for a while.

[Good thing nobody took that bet…turns out I needed a mental health day…although my throat is still sore…it’s liveable….

Alrighty then my prettys….another question for you to answer for me….do any of you listen to the music? the links to you tube? or should I just stop with that part?

Wyz]