Many of you don’t know this side of me…
- Sometimes I think of other things besides cowboys. (Not often)
- Sometimes I do write in first person.
- Sometimes this music moves me. (Video below)
- Always– I listen to my muse.
FORBIDDEN: My Muse
I see him often at Midnight. Does he know? The way he moves is so sensual and serene at the same time. To know even the slightest touch from his warm fingers, would be so erotic against my heated skin. Does he know? Does he sense me in the shadows? Does he smell my perfume, dream of my sweet lips? I dream of his lips, titillating and tempting they are.
I smell his scent, so masculine, and belonging to only him when he walks by– while I stand in the shadows, watching, feeling, inhaling, and dreaming of his touch. One day I will step out, and show that I yearn for him, lust for him. Will he know? Will he lust? Will he love?
My lonely fingers want to smooth his dark hair, push it behind his ears, and breathe sensuous words into his psyche. My eyes of blue can only stare upon his beautiful brown orbs from the shadows. Oh! He comes so close at times. Watching his form walk past, seeing his broad shoulders—what a wonderful place to rest my head. Those legs, long and firm, could walk me to a field filled with white clover, and lie me down.
His complete body could lie atop me, and drive me to ecstasy, to forbidden places that only live in my mind. His fingers could touch places in my body that no man ever knew, and I would scream words I’d usually never say. My lips would do things he asked of me, my tongue flick his forbidden spots, make him feel sensations he didn’t know existed within himself.
Yes, when I walk out of the shadows, I will go to him, walk up behind him, put my hands right on his shoulders…and–
He will be spellbound as he inhales my womanly scent, reeking, dripping, and calling from my most feminine places. He will quiver when my fingernails, painted with screaming red polish, undo the buttons on his shirt, and then rake across his chest, pulling at the wispy hairs there. He will suck in his breath as I slip my fingers inside the waistband of his jeans, sliding my hands against his abdomen, reaching lower to feel the warmth of his swollen forbidden length of manly pride.
I’ll watch him toss his head back against me. I’ll place my heated lips against his ear, smooth his hair back away from his face, and turn him around to look at my lustful gaze. Looking into my eyes, he will melt with desire, grasp my shoulders and slide his hand across my buttocks, lower his lips to my plump breasts, tantalizing my beaded peaks with his heated tongue. Will he lust? Yes! Will he smell my fragrance? He will! Will he dream of my sweet lips? Yes! He will walk me to fields filled with white clover…Yes…and lie me down, covering me with his complete body. He will, when I come out of the shadows…
Do I see the lights come on? Is it a part of my muse? Am I correct when I look into his forbidden eyes? He can see my eyes of blue with the lights on. I will know in thirty seconds, for in this forbidden room, there are no more shadows to hide behind. And he is standing mere feet away with his back to me. Only two steps is all it will take.
But wait! My hands are reaching for his shoulders.
He is lifting his head, sniffing my scent, knowing what it calls for. Yes, his head is leaning back against me, savoring the feel of my hands crawling over his chest. Is that a moan escaping from his lips as I entangle his hair between my fingers? A sigh as my fingers slip lower? Yes!
With the shadows gone will he look into my eyes of blue…? Yes– he can see, feel, inhale… Yes, he will smell my hypnotic perfume, taste my lips, full of sweet. Are his hands on my shoulders? His lips against my neck? His arms pressing me against his body? Oh, yes, I smell his scent. Feel his hands slipping lower, higher…? This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. But, yes, he’s leading me out the door. I see fields filled with white clover. His smile, tempting, his hand in mine, leading me to…to…
Oh! Mmmmm. Ahhhh… Yes…
Copyright © Mary J. Dressel All Rights Reserved.
My muse does this to me sometimes.