My Name Is ….. by Nesta Rogers

Our relationship started in the back corner of a dark dusty room. I felt her fingers as she slowly caressed me, although I was one of many, she chose me that day and I gladly accompanied her home.

We have been together for many years now, and still each day I wait patiently, for she comes to me of her own accord and on her terms.

I do know one thing I have never grown tired of her familiar touch. She is the most important part of me, and I do not think I can survive without her for she is my life.

I was much older than she was when we first met and I grow older day by day, but that does not seem to make any difference to her.

Sometimes we make love all day if the mood strikes her. She will be tender and gently touching me in just the right places getting the response she seeks, and I am always eager to please.

Yet without any warning, she will strike out pushing me back, back, back, hurting me so, that I hardly recognize her touch anymore. I wonder what I did, that her mood changes instantly, when this happens I am afraid she will give up on me.

Everyday is a new adventure never knowing what will happen next, where we two shall be at the end of the day or night.

There have been others before her, but none so refreshing or titillating, she was the one who brought me back to life with her magical fingers.

With her, I have travelled the world, I have loved, I have cried, I have laughed, and I have even committed murder. For her I would do anything.

I long for the mornings to arrive. To feel her fingers touch me once again.

In this fast paced world, of digital technology.

She chose me, where I had lain discarded in a dark dusty corner of an antique shop.

My name is Smith, Smith Corona, and I date back to 1926.


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