Cake

As I sit here all I can think of are his eyes, his grin, his scent. Although, he sits so far away I long for him. At first I believed it to be a hormonal imbalance brought by Morpheus’ visits to my bed. I realize that these feelings are inappropriate on so many moral levels. I don’t care.

I want him.

I want his eyes that twinkle when he laughs, his grin while I am withering beneath him. His tight beautiful ass under my nails as I hold him against all by circumstance. Now, I realize that it is true and by admitting it to myself I feel freer. I feel more at ease to watch him, to stare, to gaze. I realize that eventually I will give myself away but I don’t care. I realize that these feelings driving Morpheus from Me. His thin, rough fingers pulling on my hair as he rides me towards completion.

I want him. I want him every time he speaks, laughs, smirks.

I want him. His knowledge of my obsession means nothing to me unless by some stroke of God he is as obsessed with me as well.

My view is blocked. I am sad.

He is wearing that stupid hat. I am sad.

Later, under the covers and pillows and glow stars it will be better. I shall have my slice of cake and eventually, with hard, so hard work, I shall eat it too.

I want him. I want cake.

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The thought of you here lying next to me in this nest of empty promises scares me

You would not fit into my world.

More oval than rectangle if a circle

Can become a square

We would not be allowed by society

New jobs new faces new lives

No reputations

What could have been a happy time destroyed in a moment

Are you worth it? Am I worth it? Do I dare try to find out?

No.

You will never join me here in this bed in hopes of sex.

There are many possibilities many hypotheticals

There is one truth. You may continue to be the cake in my window.

I will continue my diet.

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He is mising. Like a fog lifting from my brain I can see straight again.

I can function

His presence impacts my abilities so strongly that it scares me.

Though without him there is so much less to smile about.

I have spent countless hours with him in my bed in my head.

Drowning in the imagined feel of his hands and body against my own. My obsession is so completely out of control. I’m almost happy he’s not here and yet wish he were at the same time.

Without his presence is a void of smiles and heartfelt longing. That this inconsistency causes me pause and relief is terrifying. Especially so when the he of my mind is so devoted and transparent.

I acknowledge that the he of my mind and the he of reality are possibly two separate, too different, personalities.

This does not make my mind change or help my obsession abstain. If possible it becomes only stronger in wanting to know, to feel, to experience the reality rather than the fantasy.

If my morals were less astute I might even seek out an answer to my obsession. I wont. Not now. Maybe not ever. It is easier to never know the impossibility than to know the rejection of a fantastical romance of my mind.

I doubt he suspects. I doubt he knows. I doubt he will ever come to the conclusion…

I want him. Even though he’s not here. I want him and so I await his doppelganger in my mind and dreams.

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If I tell you how I feel will you run and cry?

Will you be so disgusted that you never return?

Will you demand my removal upon your arrival?

If you smile at me again I will be unable to control my emotions that I attempt to hide below the surface of my eyes.

Does this even work? Doth mine eyes deceive my intention? Do they spill out my longing, ungracefully and without regard for my sanity or your comfort?

Yes. Your comfort. I know that you will never fully understand my mind. I know that every small insight into my psyche is scary even to professional individuals who are paid to listen.

Oh how I want him, you the focus of my desire. Oh how horrible I am to feel such a thing. Oh how bad a person I am to allow myself these feelings.

Unleashing this pent up aggressive burning in my loins upon this page is the closest I’ll come to acting on my desire.

Beyond my dreams I know I’ll never feel your touch. Beyond my fantasies I never knew your love. I can accept my immature crush. Maybe someday, when we’re both old and grey I’ll share my feeble heart with you.

Until then the ‘what ifs’, and ‘coulds’ and other hypotheticals of a pathetic younger woman will keep me warm at night instead of your beautifully hard, sculpted body.

Maybe I should sleep with a rock? Did I mention that I want you?

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And he’s back. Back again oh be still my quivering heart tis but a slice of cake.

He notices you not and neither cares nor smiles for you. Continue down this path is but madness.

Damn it to hell. I almost had the control. Now my fucking panties are soaked before I get home and I have to take a shower.

Maybe he knows and likes to play mind games? I don’t know. I don’t care. I want him naked, tied to my bed with a jar of nuttela and a spatula to paint him and lick him and FUCK I am in class I need to be able to teach.

God Damn It

Instead of focusing on my work I’m fantasizing about all the devious ways to sexually torment my cake It’s a horrible feeling knowing that you’re more of a pervert than the men in the room combined. I aught to be ashamed but instead I am just frustrated and horney.

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He sits there with his legs spread, comfortably letting the world know he is relaxed.

5 year old me wants to kick out his chair and watch him fall

15 year old me wants to do the same…28 year old too

22 year old me wants to drop to my knees under his desk and swallow his cock over and over again

Worshiping its head

Wants to watch his eyes roll back into his head

Feel his fingers threading through my hair, while he fucks my face towards his completion

This only leads me to fantasizing about him.

Such a horrible situation:

No play, no toys, just dirty naughty thoughts plaguing me.

Wishing and wanting over his body obsessing over his form

What a pervert I am! He’s sick, still beautiful, but looks like death.

It brings out the inner nurse in me. But alas I am a naughty nurse

I’d strip him down for his sponge bath, and massage methanol oils into his joints

Feeding him soup would be child’s play

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All it would take is “Oh Cake, could you stay please?” or something stupid like that.

Just like a crappy porno.

Maybe I should find my inner porn start and start pushing my flirt on.

Look, don’t touch. Think, don’t feel. Love, don’t act.

Why?! MORALS, RULES, ETHICS, CONVENTIONS, CONTRACTS, ADVICE, CONSCIOUS

Why NOT? happiness… pleasure… orgasms… self esteem… procreation practice

Do I want him, yes. Am I realistic, yes. Will I act on my wants, NO.

He is a want, not a need, well not yet.

I need water                        I need food                        I need air                        I WANT Cake.

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I want to lick a lollypop. I’m not positive about its taste. Maybe it tastes like love and bunny rabbits. I prefer lollypops that taste like salt and cream with a hint of acidic sweat.

I want to suck on a lollypop. I’m not particular to the size or length. As long as its there and hard and has a knobby top, I’m happy for a piece of cake.

I want to leave my mark. To let the world know that he is mine.

I would leave it someplace inconspicuous unnoticeable to the naked eye. Under clothing, between limbs or in other unnoticeable places. My favorites are on hipbones, below belly buttons, under nipples and possibly many along the center abdominal muscles. Easily covered by a shirt… and then shown off for me when I want to see.

The idea of someone I care about walking around with my mark on them just makes me happy. Makes me wet. A physical mark is more important to me than a silly ring or jewelry.

I would love to lick various substances from his body. Whipped cream, maple syrup, chocolate, caramel, peanut butter, nuttela, and etc all with the after taste of Cake.

Cake how I want him, lick him, taste him, follow him, obey him.

Having him pin me to anything and having his way with me. Oh yes please!!!

Against my desk, in my cubicle, against the table, the wall, the door, please…

Him hidden under my desk licking and biting me towards my happiness during class oh where is he? Why is he absent? I saw him earlier? Oh he’s here… he’s busy… he’s having a snack, a bite to eat.

Bite me            lick me            kiss me            force me            push me            bind me

Take me            fuck me            punish me            watch me            command me

I want you. I want you to want me. I want you to be with me. I want you to touch me. I want you to be mine.

Reality sucks. I wish I lived in my Dreams…

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You sit there so sure of your masculinity and sexual prowess

Every movement of your body screams sex

Never leaving my mind cursing my train of thoughts

Haunting my mind my dreams my decisions

You sit there so sure of yourself and calm while I sweat

Every day I suffer in silence begging you with my eyes

Please notice, please respond please reciprocate

And yet I know

Never to happen never to know the feeling of your hands

This I have grudgingly accepted

Acceptance is depressing

Therefore I will continue to fantasize about you

Mainly to keep myself sane but also because I enjoy imagining your beautiful, sexy naked body strapped to my bed while I tease you until you have horrible blue balls and are begging me to release you and allow your orgasm.

And I enjoy placing myself in the same situation with you teasing me the same

And yet… the fantasy ends and reality sets in and I’m still alone

Sadness

I want cake. I know I can’t have cake.

I continue to lie to myself about cake.

Cake might not be worth it…but he’s still pretty.