Okay, some of you may be coming over here from Vix’s blog, The Overeducated Nympho. When she posted my smartass answer to her Application, the joys of blog formatting being what they are, the acrostic got jumbled. So I’m going to repost it here and hopefully it’ll look the way it should.
Explanation, should it be necessary, at the bottom. And thanks for reading.
I can explain what an encounter with me easily could be like, but to do so I need to
tell a bit of a story. I work better in prose, anyway. Bear with me.
When I hear your voice, I can’t avoid a smile. I so enjoy hearing from my favorite
Overeducated Nympho that I find it hard to concentrate on my day, to appear
unconcerned and cool when, in reality, my thoughts are churning with an armada of
lustful possibilities. I have to stop my mind from circling; resolving to let the moment
dictate where we go, what we do. It always works out somehow.
By the time I’ve showered and dressed for dinner, I can barely concentrate to drive.
Every bit of my attention is focused on you.
As you eagerly await my arrival, you find yourself unwillingly pacing back and forth,
weakly trying to suppress the overpowering passion that you feel building inside you,
knowing full well that such effort is futile. You can feel your heartbeat fluttering faster
when you hear the sound of my footsteps approaching your door. Impatiently, you
aggressively rip open the door, dragging me inside. Your ardor fuels mine;
reaching toward your wrist, I enfold it with my hand. As we turn together to close the
door, I have you pinned against it as I caress you.
Beneath my shirt, you can feel my chest heaving, my breath becoming raspy and
uncontrolled. You place your hand on my chest, feeling the light play of my muscles as
they tighten involuntarily at your touch.
All through the evening, that is the theme: muscles moving almost of their own accord,
moving irresistibly to the rhythm of a passion that is expressed without speech,
unable to be expressed in any language. Without plans, without forethought, we both
succumb to our most primal need, slaking our desires each other’s passion. Then
in the depth of night we rest, recovering our strength from hours of exertion. As we do,
nothing intrudes upon our quiet repose. We revel in silent communion; slowly gathering strength for the next movement of the symphony.
It’s a simple acrostic – read the first letter in each line vertically and you’ll see the message.
Hope you enjoyed it, feel free to leave me a comment and laugh at my pathetic smartassedness.