Taunting colours

Sitting amidst a room buzzing with atmosphere, she finds herself surrounded by antagonizing colours; red, purple, green.
They know, she observes, letting a slight frown settle upon her face. Slightly dismayed, she ponders if its really that obvious, how long its been. Shit.
So smug, they're laughing at her.
John's red shirt, smirking away in its crimson glory, expressing her sweet lust for life, and shoving it in her face.
A little irked, she meets the vibrant shade of Tony's, green, cap. Teasing her, flaunting her anticipated cravings; all she wants to do is stick her tongue out at it, like a spoilt, little, kid.
Her attention is then drawn away to the sensual purple of the frilly flowers dancing prettily in the wind, right outside the window.
With a final sigh of a mixed sort, she orders a sex on the beach; and gives in.
Alas, sweet, meticulous, frustration.

Tasteful ruptures

She can feel the bubbles rising. Buzzing in her veins. So close to the surface. Almost visible.  Pulling her ever tighter, these invisible reigns.  So claustrophobic. Finding it hard to breathe.  So hard, so hard, fighting the restraint.  It’s building up. A vexed volcano, will it cease?

Go on, go on, and don’t stop now. Fuck it. Fuck you. She wants more.

Sweating in frustration. Desire sizzling off every droplet; she can’t help but admire this extravagant bouquet. So tight the strain, there’s so much to gain, she wants the burn. She craves the pain. 

She needs it fast. Has to have it now. Is it obvious? She hastily worries. This frustrated state; barely able to keep her sanity locked away.  Dream after dream she’s had. Awoken anxious, impatient, wanting, needing. The very worst kind of withdrawal.

Take me now, her body screams. She may just explode; detonate like an unstable, potassium bomb. Ticking away as each new second passes. Becoming more vigorous, danger be known. 

One kiss, she nearly lashes out, the touch on her lips; smouldering, vibrant, sensational.  A rush to the surface, pinned against a flimsy barrier.

Lunatic balls of fire cackle within; breaking off, going wild.  Like a stream of fireworks set loose in a hen house, they threaten to burst.

It all seems to take off on a whole different level now; so close the bridge of serenity.  As it lingers, the tornado all but shatters.  Everything clashes to the floor; leaving burning, emblazoned hormones, encased in an enraged figure, amass frustrated, desire ridden fumes.

She knows she has it bad when it becomes all she thinks about; sex; that passionate rapture so far away, yet so close; a kiss, just a taste is enough to awake a lustful frustration; deprivation kills as she’s left with simply a kiss; simply not enough.  

A Day At A Sports Bar

Like the fabulous Llahi, I decided to carry around a 'diary' of sorts with me, so I can happily jot down my thoughts and feelings during this promising day. 

  So this day, which happens to be yesterday, I traipsed off to Player's sports bar at around 9:30 something, intending to spend the day watching the rugby world cup games. The morning game, England versus Romania was already about 40 minutes in, and England was dominating the match.

 9:45 - Halftime. Like a strong adrenaline withdrawal,...I am tired, knackered, yet it feels like I'm still withholding a hidden, deep fizzing desire.  So I have to keep an account of each new stage of my deprived position, I feel sorry for those poor, unlucky souls unfortunate enough to read these.  Although, maybe from their displeasure and bemused reactions, maybe I can evoke some sort if pity for this pathetic, woebegone girl. Like a beggar on the street, I shall sit here with my hands held open, hoping for some kind of sympathy. Fuck the pesa.

Second half - Back to the Rugby, England just scored another try, don't miss, don't miss, don't miss... ah missed it. Score: 39-3 to England.
Gary just walked in, wearing a nice pair of sunglasses, attempting to hide the fact that he's tired and hanging from a fun night out.  Ordered a big fry up...and laughter and smiles ensue as we get an account of last night's epic fashion show... which is apparently the best place to get boozy and pissed on a Friday night.

Two cigarettes and a cup of strong coffee down the line, I'm feeling pretty good.  Blackberry's flashing red, these batteries suck. At least it was a great birthday present.
Llahi says he can't come to the game, he's busy being lazy and cuddling cushions? Wuss!

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand England won 67-3..ooh... those poor Romanian bastards. 

On the look out for any source of talent available.  Next stage; desperation. Scouring each line seeing who's befit, I am on a mission...to mars.  I need to find a worth Martian. Narrowed down, there's hardly anything.. what's wrong with this town!


Kick off for New Zealand and France... let the thrashing begin!
Sitting at the bar surrounded by a buzzing rugby crowd.. this is fun! Considering there are two blokes sitting here who I have, kissed, on random occasions. This is not helping.

New Zealand has a striking 12 to France's zero.. har har.
It is quite comical that these two guys share the same name. However, looking at the first letters of guys I've 'hooked' up with in the past.. 3 x S, 3x N, 1x D... etc.. soon I'll be able to form words with them. Perhaps I should make it 3 of each letter, then I could start a new trend...3 guys of each letter in the alphabet! Woot!

'Are you writing a book?' some older rugby watcher asks, eyeing my speedo pen, happily  resting in my mouth. No, I find myself replying, I am writing random articles. 'So are you a reporter'? No what do I...actually, maybe something like that...someday. With a bemused expression he turns back to the game. Yeah, I would totally tell you I'm writing a journal.. no, you are not reading it. 

All Blacks owning this game. Think I've written so much already, I could actually start a book.  A book based on the ramblings of a floozy, deprived loner.
Finally! France got a penalty shot, just before half time even! Better late than fucking never.

Tonight should be fun. If it is anything as boring as last Saturday, I reckon I'll show major support for my team... and do some serious tackling of my own.

Second Half! Let's hope France get some sort of a wake up call, show some actual competition, and put up a fight! Torn between which team I should support in this match... If they beat France, we have a better chance of kicking them out the cup, but if France beat New Zealand, we have all the better a chance at winning this damned thing. Decisions.. decisions.

And there's the final whistle! All Blacks won.. big surprise there! Guess the springboks just gotta bring up their game to win.

1:45- what should I do, go home? No power. Stay here? Hmm... fuck. I've only had one beer and I'm already feeling a buzz.  In fairness though, I haven't eaten all day..shocker. Something must be wrong with me.

So I'm sitting here, by  myself.  I wonder what the other bar occupiers think, me sitting here, writing in a bedraggled notepad... which only cots about 8oo shillings. Score. Like Cammy says... I am such a friggin local... hah.

Chilling with Gary and some funny SA chaps including Neal. Quite amusing... oh no, parents just arrived. Oh dear... a little awkward.. let me just act, like this doubled spiced gold and coke, is just, plain soda. I think I'll survive.. I am not drunk. I've only had about four shots of this Captain Morgan now.. that's nothing! Please oh please... let this not be the day where your observational skills are exceptional.

Back to the deprivation. I find myself checking out every single fucking hopeful, sad enough, to have happened to fall under my line of vision. Once spotted by the Inez monster... they won't know what's hit them.

  Tingling at a touch... just a little touch, oh my... how far gone am I really? Apparently quite far indeed.. wish I could paint a picture of this surreal emotion.

Impatience

How long has it been?

2...3...it feels like eternity.

Fizzing parts yearn for that touch

That burning need to erupt in ecstasy.

A kiss...really? Why not more

I know you want to tumble

So come on

Don't be such a selfish bore!

Sneak out, be daring, come out to play

I'll even give you the time of day.

That flaming intimacy

So close, so warm...

So salty, so wet...

So smooth, so hot...

So...oh, can you just get here already!

I'll touch you here

And you can tickle me there

I'll let you win

This time it's fair.

Please, oh please

Just please pay heed

My shivering flesh

Is in such dire need!

I can't contain it

It's in control

This overpowering desire...

Its fighting to play that role.

Don't tease me

Just please me

Let's play, hide and seek

I won't  even let you count the sheep.

Show me who's boss

Go on, take the fucking lead

Don't keep me waiting

I can barely stay on my fucking seat!

This anticipation is so strong

There's every need to be crude

One more day...

Fuck it, I am screwed.

Beginnings

.......And so, the anticipation deprivation issue starts! Stay tuned, you shall see a different stage of my frustrated deprived anticipation in each new post.