The Friction in Your Jeans

Have you ever been so horny that the smallest intimation of contact from the opposite sex makes your toes curl? Listening to messages on my machine and one (very) young and unsuspecting gentleman is inquiring after the status of his file, while I’m concentrating to the point of fainting on his gravelly and deep voice, imagining his soft brown eyes and his broad chest and large arms with just enough muscle and pudge to make up the sweet, strong softness that I crave. And I blink twice, realize this kid is just that, a KID, and anyone who had access to these seductive thoughts swirling around my head would surely call it in to the feds. (Please do not do this- he is 22 thus this excerpt is exaggeration at its finest, and not against any federal or state regulations)

Sigh…it sucks being a woman with a conscience. Although I’m single, I can’t do the random sex thing. I guess the nuns did an excellent job of instilling me with the right amount of guilt and self-loathing, or my mental faculties lend themselves to brainwashing. In either case, I do not want random encounters, which makes for lustful interludes as described above. I’m speaking of the interludes which happen entirely in my head. Sigh…