DianaFantasizing about six strong men....
April 10th 2008 04:26
I fantasize in bed at night before I fall asleep.
Not of Nick Cage (or even Cave).
No.
My fantasy is this:
It is early in the morning. Six burly men knock on my door, muscles rippling, eagerness in their eyes.
They have with them a front-end loader, a huge dumpster and a fork-lift.
I sashay out in my frothy negliegee, giving them just enough peek of revealing flesh to excite them, then turn purposfully to the back part of the house and garden where the main action will occur.
I order them, shivering with lustful delight, to load all the 'stuff' they can see into their dumpster. They are allowed to use their loader to shovel up things.
They are to 'strip' the garage of its contents.
Same with the bottom shed, which they can then demolish.
I ask for no-frill servi ce, just get on with it and get rid of everything.
Take away all the junk, stuff, rubbush, clutter.
I swan off to work in my high heels, egging them on with the sight of fresh cash for later.
When I arrive home they are gone.
The place is silent, bare, beautifully empty. Clear spaces greet me. Unfamiliar shadows fall and dust motes dance in unaccostomed bars of sunlight.
I feel a new woman, invigorated by their incredible efforts and by the lack of clutter. I fall asleep on plain boards, finally satisfied....
Isn't that a very very naughty fantasy??
Not of Nick Cage (or even Cave).
No.
My fantasy is this:
It is early in the morning. Six burly men knock on my door, muscles rippling, eagerness in their eyes.
They have with them a front-end loader, a huge dumpster and a fork-lift.
I sashay out in my frothy negliegee, giving them just enough peek of revealing flesh to excite them, then turn purposfully to the back part of the house and garden where the main action will occur.
I order them, shivering with lustful delight, to load all the 'stuff' they can see into their dumpster. They are allowed to use their loader to shovel up things.
They are to 'strip' the garage of its contents.
Same with the bottom shed, which they can then demolish.
I ask for no-frill servi ce, just get on with it and get rid of everything.
Take away all the junk, stuff, rubbush, clutter.
I swan off to work in my high heels, egging them on with the sight of fresh cash for later.
When I arrive home they are gone.
The place is silent, bare, beautifully empty. Clear spaces greet me. Unfamiliar shadows fall and dust motes dance in unaccostomed bars of sunlight.
I feel a new woman, invigorated by their incredible efforts and by the lack of clutter. I fall asleep on plain boards, finally satisfied....
Isn't that a very very naughty fantasy??
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