Except from two years ago, and its all still very similar to how I feel today. The only advancement is I've started messaging. But I no nearer to physically experiencing it. Its still fantasy. So I always write it in notes, I collected images and posted it to an online gallery, it did change it, I stopped hoarding images after I did that. So what if I posted this writing, what would happen then, would I stop writing, would I write more, would she suddenly become physical real and true? Would long fantasization finally end?

What is my fascination with this woman? Or atleast the image of this woman? And in my teenage years. But its something else now at 36 (now 38) thats comes back to me now to look at, to get into. I obviously have denial issues meeting her in public, but what if I meet her in private? And I felt no one was looking, and no one was bothered or cared.

What if it was here, her sitting on the blue chair, on this matress on the floor? Naked even, she didn't feel anyway about how my body looked, just ready to taste it, hungry. Pretty soon she's sitting on you, the line has been crossed finally and off we go. Skin to skin, bodies hugging close, tightly embraced, sucking her all in. In it goes.

No more images, no more secret fantasies, no more pretending not to look and wishing you could, because its here, finally happening here and now beyond all the years of wishful thinking, touch, taste, sight smell and her sounds. As you feel the smoothness of her skin, smell the fragrance of her hair, feel the space between her porcelain hued legs, the warm depth of her vagina, and touch her inner core.

The kiss of her soft parted lips, tongues intwinned in a dance of sensual passion and long unfulfilled longing. Rocking to the rythme of this empassioned embrace, sweetness of this longing. Your in and out, deep into her, arms wrapped under her back and hands on her shoulders. Her back arched, pushing her breasts out to your lips. Her feet crossed behind your hips, her fingers splayed, pulling you ever deeper into her essence as you drink ever longingly from her lips.

Finally, you can put her feet on your eyes, drink in the saline fragrance smell of her vagina.

An except from two years ago, its interesting to reflect on it today, I remember writng similar things when I was a teenager to artwork. These days it would probably get posted to an online gallery of various things I've collected. This is what it has become today.

She came actually twice, right in this house. One was called Jackie and the other called Jenny, and that was all in private. I didn't have issues Jackie, she was much more mature, and her energy was far more settled. But I felt very uncomfortable with Jenny, even though she was younger and sexier I just couldn't relax with her. Its been a good experiment for me to get this all out. I could never do that until I was living on my own privately.

They said I was going to get a blue eyed blonde haired Devil. I call her a blue eyed blonde haired Goddess.

I've messed with it in everyway I dare how, and nothing has ever happened. So I move on. This I did for six years, supposedly the time it takes to make it happen, calculate it. Add two more years after the time of writing it, and still nothing physically significant has ever happened. I've explored everything short of physically having her, yet it always feels the same in my imagination, the feeling the longing to be loved by her, mixed with deep sexual passioned and unfulfilled, remains the result. Strange.

I call it in the moment, it comes and goes in the moment. I call it now 'in the moment writing', for it only makes sense in that moment, and all those intense feelings and desires only exist in that moment, make sense in the moment, and find no place in existence outside of it.