The river

Words, fall like raindrops, thiey start slowly then build into a tricklet that becomes a flood, all day the words have been building in delicious expectation of release. There is a certain delight that can only truly be realised with a very particular form of release. Words can turn you into everything and anything, at one and the same time we become the exhibitionist and the voyeur, what delights lay in the knowledge that you are being seen in ways others cannot imagine, what delights to know that you are seeing another in the same light.

Of course the greatest delight comes in the acknowledgement of non acknowledgement. Passing in the street and exchanging pleasantries, sitting for a coffee discussing the normalities of the day whilst knowing that you have seen and been seen in a darkness few would recognise as light.

I sat in work today feeling almost like an addict, the need to write and to expose myself so great that I almost felt guilty sat at my desk, some would read the phrase expose myself and take it to mean a literal expose, but that could not be further than my mind, although I do recall with particular fondness the times I both deliberatley and inadvertantly allowed parts of myself to show in company.

Of course the salon will always be one of my favourite such instances, I remember that day with a particular sense of affection, it could only have been her to carry out such a audacious thing, to grab my trousers and pull them so ahrd that everything came down and I stood there in front of the whole salon with everything on display.

I feigned embarassment everytime she mentioned to the other guys how blessed I was, but I loved the attention and each time she told others how big I was and how for a small guy I would put them all to shame I relished in the attention, like a filthy little attnetion whore I cherish the fact that if I am ever called to account for myself I would so admirably, God gives to the gracious, and the fact that it is not used very often makes it even more speacial.

I do not sleep about and as a result I am still inexperianced for a man of my age however I delight in the shock in a womans faec when she is confronted with my secret treasure for the first time, I delight in learning a new womans body, how she responds and how she reacts, such things delight me, her taste and her smell, her touch and how she likes to be caressed, such thoughts are even more enjoyable when I know that most people do not consider to me to be this way, such things delight me even more because I know that with the power of ym words I can drive any woman to the absoloute point of explosion and then pull back to leave her gasping for more, even more delightful is the thougght that some who read my words will experiance a secret burning, they will never reveal to me that my woords made them feel such a way but they will show it in other ways, subtle refferences and subtle hints as to my writing, it is then I will allow them to feel I am writing soley for their own secret indulgence, but the truth is I write for myself and myself alone, my words are created for the eyes of my secret audince but their intentions are for one woman alone and she alone will reveal the whole of me, she knows who she is and she alone will have been told these words are for her.