Fairytale proposal I

Breathless as can be. That was after all, the first full marathon I had ever been in. My entire journey was filled with the resounding question resonating in my every breath. "What was I thinking? A marathon?" Some things can only be done once. This was one of it. If he hadn't cajoled me into it, I wouldn't have barged. Sweet talker. The mere thought of his droning voice spurred me on. I had to finish the battle I impulsively started. Was it really impulsive? Or was it actually the easy sublimation of the restless heart. I could hear his heart beating as he pants effortlessly beside me. Nudging me forth when my legs slump back. Muttering those tiny words of encouragement, half of which I couldn't quite make out in the heat of the mighty morning sun. Drenched in my own torrid sweat, everything around me was a blur. His voice was no exception. In that hazy exhaustion, I could still visualise the straining physique beneath that sweat-drenched dry-fit that was spurring me on, beside me. The wonders of the human body. I smiled, knowing that exhausted or not, I am still about as female as can be. Kinky thoughts came and went, and before I even manage to realise it, I was already giving a victory shout under that damn banner with the word "Finish" flashing so boldly. Like that wasn't thrilling enough, my sweet talker fell to his knees before me. I instantly shuddered. I thought of how I must have managed to dry him out with my incessant banters all through the run. Perhaps, I must have worked him out a little too much. Poor thing.


He then looked up, his aquamarine eyes searching deep into the valleys of my soul. He reached into his sweat laden pocket and took out an all-too-familiar looking velvet-wrapped box. My heart, which was already frantically searching for air, literally came to a stop for that split second, before taking a plunge down into my loins. There I was, christened in my very own perspiration and baking under the viciously golden sun, probably looking just as medieval as Joan of Arc after her first battle. The first round of the 21-Gun salute came in, or at least, it felt just like that. The spontaneous ramble of words, a question that when answered ultimately unpaves and then repaves the roads beyond. All in that instant. The magical feeling of being wanted, needed, surrendered to and loved. The divine proposal finally manifested itself.

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You must be wondering, what the fuck am I talking about? hehehe. The problem here is, my deprivation of any healthy excitement has taken its toll on me. I'm going insane just living on sheer anticipation. Just waiting for OTHER people to have something to be excited about. I'm not gonna sit and do nothing. SO the least I could do is to conjure up circumstances that I could take pleasure in. *all smiles* I shall envision proposals that are genuinely inspired by my sordid dreams that I have been having lately. Sordid they sure are, considering the blatant state of my deprivation. You do not inject such romantic embraces into the dreams of someone who is so inactive when it comes to finding intimacy. Doing so just makes you mean. Tsk tsk and selfish and sadistic and plain evil. I think this little manifestation of my inner most desires is also symptomatic of the over-indulgence I have had with Boys over Flowers. Bugger huh. Haiz. They are about as divine as divine could get. I snap into asceticsm at the mere thought of those celestial forces.

I hope this eases my longing for that magical moment. It aches whenever I think about it.