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Reply-To: "Night Hawk" <devalk2001@sympatico.ca>
From: "Night Hawk" <devalk2001@sympatico.ca>
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Subject: {ASSM} In Praise Of The Female Form RP? Rev. {the Night Hawk} (short, no sex, history)
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Date: Thu, 27 Oct 2005 07:10:01 -0400
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Read this chapter as it was written!
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A short story by: (the) Night Hawk
Copyright (C) 2005 by: (the) Night Hawk
www.nighthawkstories.com

"In Praise of the Female Form"

How I long for the days of my misspent youth.  Although not quite socially 
acceptable, it was understandable that a young man would gaze and ponder 
with awe and admiration the gentle curves of the female form.  Those days 
when I could stare, unabashedly, at that which fascinated me most.

Now I am relegated to sitting quietly with my mirrored sunglasses, 
pretending not to notice, while my eyes dart furtively from side to side, 
enjoying the view of females of every form as they wander through the park. 
Through my rose-colored glasses, the ugliness of reality that is called life 
is quickly dispersed by the beauty that surrounds me, and I find that I am 
transported back through time to the fantasies of my youth, every thought 
centering on the quest for a view of the un-attainable, when the female form 
was desired and cherished, simply because it was the female form.

Breasts held high and proud by a swatch or two of satin and lace.  The 
gentle swaying of unfettered breasts, encumbered neither by the restraints 
of material nor by societies mores.

Nipples, crushing against, straining at the very fabric that shelters them 
from my gaze, waiting for and hoping for a cool breeze to stiffen them.

A plunging neckline, a V-necked blouse, a view into the valley of ecstasy, 
where soft delectable breasts meet.  The slight rise and fall with every 
breath.

Full, firm buttocks.  I followed the hint of panty line over the contour of 
rounded cheeks to the junction of thighs, the valley of sighs.

But I am older now.  Maturity has taken hold.  I learned to avert my gaze. 
I learned to treat the female as an equal rather than the revered.  I 
learned to control those thoughts of passion, the pure, raw, simple emotion 
that the female form evoked in me.  The trappings of maturity, the guilt and 
shame, have quelled the arousal.

Now I sit in the park, with my mirrored glasses, behind which my prying eyes 
are hidden, so that once again I may steal a glance, or a peek, or a gander, 
and let my thoughts meander to the days of my youth.  And I sigh.

~ end ~

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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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