Waking the sleeper

Strange how we can go through periods when our libidos are quiet and undemanding, hardly stirring our minds or our loins, then suddenly come to fierce life as a result of some unexpected  stimulation, neither looked for nor anticipated. It could simply be the sight of a stranger in the distance, someone blessed with a quirky attractiveness that captures our imagination. 

Maybe the sight of a particularly beautiful pair of legs when one did not expect it,

or a sudden and unexpected sexy interlude in an otherwise bland film watched on television,

so our flesh quickens and involuntarily our questing fingers seek out satisfaction.

Best of all is the flash of an eye from an unexpected quarter, or the brush of a hand against our own. Nothing might come of it, but it lingers in the mind and we seek out  time alone to re-create in our mind what it did to us, arching and mewling in pleasure as we remember. 

  

Or maybe this contact  is something we can pursue, following up the tentative connection in the hope that fantasy might become reality, and the  word become a kiss,

the kiss moving on to the first tentative exposure of  flesh,

and then on to something else entirely.

But if it  doesn’t, we can still dream!