Birdboy 10482 Report post Posted July 12, 2011 Here's a tale from a couple of years ago. It's my ode to curiosity, those nagging questions in your mind about the lady or gent who is the intimate stranger before you. Please enjoy. bb ______________________________________________________________ Who are you, anyway? No, really. I'd like to know. Are you the sweet lady who took my coat, and traded it for a warm embrace at the door? The porn star who rode me hard from the word go, leaving me with wobbly knees, dehydration, and exhaustion? Or the domme who commanded subservience from even before I came in the door, demanding that I not darken her doorstep without her venti Starbucks? Or the schoolgirl, sweet, petite, and dressed to thrill? The lady for the fetishist, clad in latex from head to foot. Or just the lovely, manicured feet? You are all those things, and none of them. You are what I ask of you, or what you think that I want. I suppose I shouldn't care who you really are, as long as I get what I'm looking for. I see you, and I only see what you let me see. But I still can't help but be curious. I want to see how far down the rabbit hole goes. I want to know if you walk the talk. You once described yourself to me as a social chameleon. I didn't understand then, but I do now. You will give of yourself, and give your all, to make yourself into what is asked of you. You will become that person that I want. And I will believe that you are what I asked for. As long as I don't look too closely, or think about it too much. Maybe I'll see the real you someday, whoever you are. Or maybe I just want to believe that I will, and that I'll see what I want to see. Or maybe you'll show me the real you. And I'll still like you anyway. Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
