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Sarah Hill

this spine tingling reaction that flushed testosterone from heads to toe sketched out sometime from ~july or august 2012 and triggered a chain reaction of wishful desires in overdrive seeing this aesthetically pleasing gal in the summer of her full feminine bloom (and yes, young enough to be me an splendid supreme offspring of this gap toothed fifty three year old simian) whose primary purpose comprises tutoring my daughter born with cognitive plus developmental delays and whose academic weakness qualified her since birth - or soon thereafter to receive intervention to allow, enable and provide her with life skills so she can become self reliant upon an adult thus bringing this papa thru the aegis of said progeny exposure sans young women (who seem prominent in social service field) many blindsiding these myopic eyes with hypnotic trance conjuring up illusions of grandeur kept under lock and key lest detriment comprises instructing requisite basic skills per youngest progeny Shana the punim in question recipient of private lessons in the rudiments of classroom ABC's yet a quiet riot along the super hidden highway within my imagination achingly longs to compose a poem for this righteous dignified dame whose voice like melody ineluctably seduces me and athletic physique goads this married father to attempt some organization of his awakened dormant libido (bereft within thine marriage) toward some unknown outcome without intent to convey other than a message of unequivocal charm minus any additional intent for physical interaction.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things