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HIDDEN WISHES Hands silently gliding over skin. A submarine silently gliding in the deep. Oils applied to make the gliding smooth. Rough ocean currents stilled from the passing storm. I have been here many times before. The music in the background soothing, soothing. Her hands knead my back into submission. I slip off into reverie. "Turn over," she said, "and I'll do your front". I am lost somewhere between a sonnet and an iambic pentatmeter. Skillful hands massage my legs. The hands of a professional finds each knot, each pain. I take no notice of her movements. I hear only her breathing, and the sounds of massage. Suddenly her hands are underneath the shorts I wear. She is reaching for my privates, and takes it into hand. I pretent I don't notice. Boy is that hard to do. "I've wanted to do this for a long time," she said huskily. "I know it's not professional. I can't help myself," she went on. I feel a slap on my back. "Times up. You can wake up now." Damn. The dream was not reality. Should I let her know? |
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