21 10 2009

As I walk the funny forest of my desires, I always and hopelessly end up dreaming significant things.
The more I try to march into that jungle, the more I find difficult to stop and taste that delicate flowers that are indeed messages from my inner self.
How and why I dreamt, tonight, of a muscle bear which I was in love with for he treated me like a slut and again how and why that dream became a sort of romantic story with another stocky guy with a very firm hand and always touching his cock through his denim, always asking intimate question, always having a firm control on whatever I was doing or even thinking?
And why thinking of that I am, now, hard?

It’s all about control then? The feeling of being taken care of, instructed, punished even but always for a higher end? Why am I aroused by a less than cute chubby man with a hand on his cock and belt?
The answers to this questions are indeed far from being reached. Nonetheless I find myself doing more and more of this dreams. And this, somehow, must be a kind of a meaning.

Where does my secret lies then?
Where I will find a rest, finally?

img 284860 2770258




2 responses

11 05 2010

I do so like this image.

20 05 2010

me too :p

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