Category Archives: story telling

Dream Warrior

I don’t know what’s with this guy that messes with my meditations. I’m supposed to stay calm and think about nothing at my tai chi chuan classes, but all I can think about in the last weeks is how nice it would be to untie his belt and slide my hands inside his sweaty jacket. Every Friday my tai chi class happen to take place right next to the kung fu tatami where this guy practices his damned Taolu. The uniform hides him almost completely, but for what I can see, the kicks and knocks make every muscle of his body move strongly. Now, instead of concentrating on improving my shadow movement when I’m sitting in the lotus position, I see the kung fu warrior pinning me on the wall, fierce, hungry. And all my inner quietness goes straight to hell.

Cracked dream

I know what I’m doing, he said before kiss me. I shouldn’t let that happen, but I did. That’s exactly what I say myself every time I’m heading to something with great potential to cause heart damage. You should always try to stop your friends from doing something that can hurt them, and he’s my friend since so long. He knows every wound on this mess that beats in my chest. If nothing else, he surely knows my feelings about him, and it’s not love. Not in the way romantic couples rub in the face of lonely souls in the street. Even though, I let him kiss me. He held me in the kindest way I’d ever being held, a china doll in his sweet hands. So vulnerable. So badly wanted. It felt like a dream coming true. A cracked one. The right scene filled by wrong players.

The mentor

One brilliant mind in a hot body is the kind of thing God brings to this world to turn smart women into weak sinners. He’s ten years older than me and I’ve always wondered how many interesting things he’s got to teach me. He’s kind of my mentor. Clever, experienced, a man who can keep any conversation in the highest level and you don’t even notice until you think about the topic hours latter. His big eyes seems near to pop out when he’s excited in a conversation, I bet I’m not the only one unable to look away. All settled in a bulky body, not much taller than me. In the top of everything, a breathtaking smile. Sometimes I try to show him how good I’m becoming, I want him to admire me, too. But I know I can’t keep up with him, soon I turn to the audience mode, just encouraging him to goes on and on. As I watch him, I play with the thought of how good it would be to have this man, so smart and strong, naked in my bed.


Every time we are near, I have problems to keep my eyes away from him. His lips claim to be kissed. A new promise of pleasure pop up in my mind every time he moves his legs. Once I tried to keep my eyes in his feet, a safe zone I thought. But, then, he started an indecent scratch passing the toes slowly into the other foot. The illusion of his toes wandering around my legs gave me chills. When he walks ahead of me it’s the only time I feel free, because he can’t catch me staring at him as if I could I could lick him any second. It’s mouthwatering to watch the cotton of his shirt stretching over his muscles.. And that’s how I know I still deserve God’s pity, too. He’s not that kind of gentlemen that insists to walk by your side.


He popped up in my dreams again. Gorgeous, as usual. Making me feel like I’m very pleasant to look at, like I’m very desirable. He talked to me closely, looking down to my eyes, one second to my lips, again into my eyes. But, somehow, not close enough to make anyone around us notice what was going on. Only the two of us knew how close we were, how hazardous that closeness was.Suddenly we were alone in God-knows-where. I couldn’t resist any longer. I grabed him and we kissed. What a delightful kiss! His soft lips moving slowly over mine, his strong hands gently holding my head. I felt as lost as I know I would feel if it was in the real world. Thank you, Lord, for not allowing it to happen in real life, because if it happen when I’m awake, I’m afraid I won’t be strong enough to resist. He’s a Devil’s Temptation and I intend to remain a good wife.

Friendly fire

He caught me off guard. We were just good friends who used to laugh on our sorrows and mistakes. We were having a funny day, just like so many others. A bier in our hands, snacks on the table, barbecue almost ready. All of sudden, his arm was in the back of my chair, his legs stretched touching my bare feet, smiling his best smile while looking into my eyes from time to time. A strange intimacy like we had never had before. Everyone noticed it. The girls went excited, their eyes asking how dare I not tell it before. We ate, we laughed, we drank. He kept his pace always too near, his fingers burning the edge of my skin, squeezing my mind.

Later, he gave me a silent ride. An unbearable silence that I broke with no subtlety. What happened tonight? Everyone thinks we’re dating. He stopped and gave an unexpected sad look. I don’t know. I had no words for such answer. He gazed to the night sky, his breath going slowly in and out. I’m so alone, still gazing to the night. You know me better than anyone, every wound, every bruise, everything. He turned at me keeping his eyes in the shadow. You would never hurt me. You would never ask me something you know I can’t give. We are friends, how can we get hurt? It just seems to be a good choice. I took his hands in mine and put on my best friendly smile, a poker face for the first time. Com’on, we know we are not our type. I didn’t want to be a safe choice for a broken heart. Not with all that fever burning inside my own heart