Split Sky

So, I made the decision to stop a erotica story I was writing and instead publish/record a fantasy/scifi story.  It’s told from three perspectives.  One a young and troubled mage, Illthorn.  Two, The sinister secret society calling themselves the Knights Templar. And, Three, Merlin, newly awakened from his tree nap.  I recorded my voice for each character.  The story is about a invasion and how these people handle the situation.  They each have different perspectives and hopefully it will be an interesting journey.  I’m a bit trepidatious about how my voice sounds.  More what peoples impressions will be, I’ve gotten used to hearing my voice through speakers from band practice. It’s a good thing this makes me anxious otherwise I might not do it.  I’ve been thinking about performing some of my poetry that is intended to be spoken aloud but I’m not sure that it will add anything. Let me know if anyone would like to hear that. 

What I see

I want to make love to you in a room full of strangers. I want to show these people that your sensuality cannot be quenched. That you are sex itself and my desire for you burns like plasma. I want you to feel their eyes on you as you orgasm again and again. I want you to see the envy of your pleasure, their eyes flashing as my tongue and hands and cock bring you to climax again and again and again. I want you to see that you are a queen. I want you to see in their eyes, in their lust what I say about you. That my words are all true. That you are sex and lust itself. I ache to burn in your fire.

Stop

I found myself Internet Stalking an ex this morning.  I have no idea why we broke up.  We hadn’t been seeing each other that long.  Then one morning I get a text like lightning from the sky that she’s breaking it off.  Ok…, no reason. Says something to the effect that she still wants to talk about books with me and that she was sorry she hurt me? Except, she hadn’t done anything TO hurt me. I responded, in my typical fashion, that I wasn’t hurt but if I was then it wasn’t her responsibility. My emotions are my responsibility. I did want to talk about why we were breaking apart, and said as much but that was the last I heard from her.  I think about her every once in a while.  We were doing OK, not a house on fire.  But there was potential there.  It’s just puzzling to me. 

Dream

I dreamt that I met a beautiful woman, she was thin, slightly shorter than me, small, almost flat chest, elegant hands perfect for holding or kissing. She was smart and we talked about music. I kissed her and she was gentle at first, then more forceful. Her hair was soft and I ran my hands over her. Trailing the edge of fingernails over the lingerie, black lace she wore. So damn sexy. I moved to go down on her and found a surprise. A five inch cock. Thin and perfectly groomed. I looked up at her and could see the fear and trepidation in her eyes. Holding her eyes with mine I ran my tongue up the length of her surprise. I took her in my mouth, running my tongue against the softness, sucking and swirling. Replacing my mouth with my hand, I trailed kisses up her abdomen, paused to suck a tit, then kissed the small of her throat. I whispered to her, your beautiful. I remember having sex but not the rest of the specifics. I woke beside her, her ass snuggled down against me. I reach over an pinch a nipple. She turns to me and murmurs good morning and looking into her hazel eyes I am turned on. We have sex again. I ask her out to a real date. We go eat Italian. Then we are leaving the restaurant and as we exit, her in the crook of my arm, snuggled against me. I hear someone say something behind us, something like Faggots. Maybe they saw her lovely little Adam’s apple. A woman is who she is, a dick is what she has. Anyway, I’m enraged. I turn and ask, threateningly, did you say something? He swaggers over and says, I said Faggot. I say, Oh, I thought you said please stab me multiple times and leave me to bleed out in an alley. I pull a blade. He backs away, fear in his eyes. I turn back to my beautiful. She has fear in her eyes too. I put the blade away. I walk up to her and holding her hands, I say You are mine. I will protect you from every hurt as best I can. We walk off to the movie. That’s all I remember.

Stepping into Friday night

I know what I am, who I am.
I am certain of my place in the world and know what I am capable of. Despite that, I cannot find the people I look for or finding them, get them to stay. Do I ask too much? Are they the wrong people? Or am I so far from those who are looking for me as I look for them that we are all lost?