It’s a feeling that few understand how to place, but I recognize immediately once it slithers into my body.  Some think its giddiness, excitement or perhaps contentment; but I know the beast for what it is – eroticism.  It feels best when it blind sides you, runs you over like some silly cartoon – leaving you flattened and wide eyed in its wake.  Snuggled up tight in your blankets, you look around to check if you’re alone, and wonder if you should solve this lustful infatuation.

You could quite possibly spend hours working at it, making your muscles splinter in effort to bring your world to a quivering halt, but this feeling is different – this won’t be solved with a quickie.  There’s only one person who can help you, one master who could free this slave and until he does you will lay dormant, suffering.  I lay back; I close my eyes and let fantasy take me over.  I see a flash of his smile and the way his hands would run over the small of my back and down my thighs.  Hot breath tickles the hairs on the back of my neck and it takes all I have within me not to moan.  When I finally open my eyes, I find myself back in my room, alone, as before.  Fantasy without actualization is like dying of thirst in an ocean.  I’m floating in a sea of sexuality, and each wave feels better than the last.

I imagine that this lust is a creature, perhaps mist in the form of a snake; it swivels inside of me and thrashes about, making me want to run outside and scream.  Not that it would accomplish anything.  After thinking it over the beast goes back into hiding, and I find myself free for now.  It will come back again and surprise me, it always does.