From: Short Stories/ Part 2/ Muses.
Erotic thoughts, primordial lust, and forbidden frontiers are still an exhilaration of transgressing taboos and will raise my heartbeats, I have to control with white pills, slow down and chill-out before toppling prematurely over the edge. But it was worthwhile bursting for terse moments through forbidden barriers. I’ll die for sure, for Veena, for Symi, for all dusky-eyed women I could have and have never been allowed to have. It’s a great effort to be in love, sustain the momentum, but never for me, never, never?
Must I stay away and flee the places of erotic interaction that present themselves in such delicate and sensual waves? Why is it then impossible, why then?
Anger is of no help and the situation becomes quite desperate. She – married and physically engaged to relax – I, alone and thinking of her, enticed, and calling up similar nudes on my monitor, to find enough sexual stimulation to reach an autoerotic climax.
Fine. Nobody’s hurt. It’s not the ideal scene as we know from experience. It’s after all a reality. I live with it. All day and night. I write.
I live close to her breasts, her lips, the imagined coitus mammilla, and the fellating act. Nothing new, you said to me. It is exciting though. I cry and take my clothes off for you again.