This is the day I start to do things different. I know that “differently” is the proper word, adverb, not adjective. Today I sit on my rocker, on my porch, listening to the birds, amplified through my hearing aids, breathing in the fragrance of sandalwood, burning from Japanese sticks, watching, no, lusting, after my neighbour, as she walks her fat dogs.
She wears the same pink oversized tee shirt that covers her bum, drawing my eyes to it, in her vain attempt to conceal it. “It’s an ass to be proud of, woman.” is all I can think, just as that ponytail is ready for me to pull if I ever get to fuck her.
Inside, the sink has an assortment of dirty dishes,Rubbermaid containers, and their brick red lids. Now I will leave the birds. The incense has burned down. My coffee is cold, The woman has gone inside. Now I will too.
slave sindee said:
sweet dreams of neighbor lust keeps the libido active