EnvelopePush 41M
2 posts
4/15/2005 2:01 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm


I deal with the public in my secret identity. I've long considered myself a sort of sensualist or sexual aesthete but those traits generally hide out in the corner. Working with an endless stream of strangers and getting little glimpses of their lives over the past couple of years has fostered this fledgling fondness for fomenting forbidden and otherwise frowned-upon fantasies. I want to fuck the strangers. I want to surprise them with what I can do. I want to be their little secret and the source of an extra skip in their step.

I joined a swingers site a little while back. I was rock hard as I filled out the questionnaire and profile. I was sure there was a faceless someone out there whom I'd brushed against in passing and whose mind I occupied for a few fleeting seconds some months prior. Through some chance and miracle I was sure one of them was online and looking to rekindle that brief excitement. Like me, they wanted to be reminded of that forgotten moment of possibility but unlike me, they hadn't signed on.

Those moments are there every day. Under the right circumstances you can whisper the name of a hotel into almost anyone's ear and they will get hard or wet in sudden anticipation. Who doesn't want the sensory seduction of their face nestled in the crook of someone's neck, their ankles on your shoulders and the smell of crisp, industrial bed spreads? Outside the work day rolls on but you're lost grinding your hips closer and closer to that new-found object of lust, pushing thoughts of commutes and working lunches utterly out of your heads. The only thing in the world is that sensation of skin on skin and surprising sighs and moans of someone new.

There's an alternate reality out there where these things happen. The societal constraints simply aren't there. There are no thoughts of repercussion or awkward encounters down the line. It's a world where you can smirk at the only other person in the movie theater that day late in the run of some obscure art house film, and make out like high school kids while the plot unfolds on screen.

That is a fantasy I love. I'm not so much of a letch as to automatically jump to the balls deep portion of an affair, nor am I perverted enough to think that is the only satisfying conclusion. I've brought myself off so many times just thinking of standing in a corner kissing a former co-worker and feeling her breasts. Some people you don't need to fuck and some encounters are diminished by taking them too far. Some are more powerful and enduring from pushing the envelope just far enough.

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