Desi Lover

Her wet pussy was telling her so; her pale green eyes were telling her so; her dry mouth was telling her so. But in the back of head alarm bells rang. She knew this was taboo. The society she lived in would look down on her for that, maybe even ostracize her completely, or worse, lynch her as a nigger lover.She returned to her room feeling a bit hot. She lay down on her bed naked to cool off. She opened a window to let some air in. She started thinking about Oliver’s thick staff. She couldn’t get out of her mind that it was so long and girthful, seemng so potent although not even erect. She thought how magnificent would it be hen fully rampant and engorged with blood. She fantasized about Oliver with an enormous erection, coming into her room.She fingered herself as the scene materialised in her dream. ‘Wow,” she thought to herself as she masturbated on her bed, ‘I wonder how big it is when it is hard?’ As she touched herself and thought about these forbidden things, excitement grew,. They were greatly appreciated. ========================= Each Day Each day I wake up. I get up and begin a day I know I will dread, no hate. I do this because I have to and not because I want to or choose to. What I want seems to be a daydream I really never get to have. It drifts in and before it has a chance to form it disappears, elusively slipping between my fingers. I never seem to be able grasp it. It slides away, farther and farther, each time I try to reach for it. And then I wake up only to find I’m still trapped in this nightmare, a nightmare of a life with no joy, no happiness, no love, nothing but sadness for me. Each day I wake up. Each day I wonder. I wonder what it would have been like. To just have, the briefest of moments to be with you. To be a whole person again. To be a real person with a life again. To be what used to be me. I wonder about a life that can never be now. A life that, that by contrast, is so different than what I have now. I can not hope for this to.
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