Pooner Diaries: Smiles

[Birdboy 10482]

It's been many days and many miles since I've seen her last but it doesn't take much to get her beside me. In my imagination, anyway. All I have to do is close my eyes and I can feel her hair brushing my face again, her lips kissing my mouth. I can feel her soft skin in my hands, smell her faint perfume. I can see her smile, wide as the open prairie, when she sees me again. I can still hear her gentle laugh, caressing my ears.

 

I blush to think of the things we've done. Things that I never had imagined I would ever do, much less relish. She's my freak with an angel's face, wanting to try more, more, more. She's both the angel and the devil on my shoulders, whispering the kinkiest suggestions in my ear with an innocent smile. But she holds me and kisses me softly afterwards as I gasp for breath, wide eyed and half in shock.

 

I miss her, my girl. More than she will ever know. More than I could ever tell her. For you see, I can't just tell her the way I feel. I can't say that I care. I can't tell her that I've missed her. It's just not done, you see. For this business we're in is one of temporary bliss, part-time love doled out an hour or two at a time. It's just intended to be a dollop of joy to spice up my bland existence. There are no forevers, no happily ever afters. Hell, I'm never even fully sure whether she'll be around for a next time.

 

I can't say how I feel. Because I know I would join the ranks of her ex-lovers. One of those guys who got too clingy. Too needy. Too creepy. One of the guys who was just too much trouble. So I play it cool. I make sure I leave her home with a smile, a broad ear-to-ear one that I can no more hold back than I can stop the sun from rising or the snow from falling. And I also smile when I think of her on dark winter nights such as these. But that smile is a wistful one, one she will never see or imagine I have when I think of her.

 

No, I can't tell her the way I feel. But I can pour my heart out in these tales. And I'll joke with her the next time I see her. Great story? Thanks, yeah, it's fictional. It's kind of based on that other lady. And I'll laugh and smile again, an anxious smile, and hope she doesn't notice my eyes not quite meeting her gaze. I'll kiss her then, and we'll romp again. And I'll leave another tiny bit of myself behind. Again.