whenwetalklikethis Posted December 7, 2021 Posted December 7, 2021 A few years ago, at Christmas, I was in a pub in the Lake District; somewhere deep in the countryside. There was a party going on for the locals and the farmers had come down from the fells with their wives for what was obviously one of the high points of the year. I could not take my eyes from the wives, they were so happy in their party dresses these women who were obviously used to jeans, and big coats with collars turned against the rain. The women were dancing with each other ignored by their husbands who were standing together at the bar swapping pints and stories. The women were dancing with each other, like girls, so happy in their bodies and their party clothes. I could imagine them dressing with such care, such dignity and such excitement, fingers trailing between legs and across breasts, seeing the roundness of their hips in mirrors, ***ting their mouths and darkening their eyes like night creatures. They were unseen and ignored but I knew that anyone could have walked up to any one of them to take them outside and make them do anything; their cunts were so slick with the feel of lace and the perfume on their skin. They would have walked outside and leaned their backs against the brick to lift their skirts to be seen and recognised. They would have torn their tights and shown their wet holes and said: “ Here it is, and it is as you thought it would be. Take it and use it and own me and see me. Now.”
SapiosexualInReno Posted December 8, 2021 Posted December 8, 2021 And so we all have that.. girlish side, the wanton side, the side that desires to be seen and felt, and appreciated in the moment , however fleeting that moment might be. We all feel of our skin, and ***t our lips and darken our eyes for the hunt, and yet expect nothing…
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