I’ve been editing the story I have been writing and semi-neglecting. Now and again I lose the ability to keep focused, but I’ve been getting it back. So, I was pretty focused for like an hour today and while writing I found myself inexplicably turned on by what I was writing. Why? Because I am too aware that it will be some time before I get to indulge in the very thing I am writing about. And, the more I think about it, the more it both frustrates and entices me. I guess I am a glutton for punishment. I blame my friend abigahil for this. She insisted that I write erotic short stories and now that’s all my head is filled with. Am I the only one that envisions myself and the person I am interested in as the characters in the story? I hope not.
So, I’m here, reading and writing and thinking to myself that when I see my boyfriend again I might find myself backflipping into the bed, striking and pose and whispering “Come, my body is ready.”