DELTA OF SMALL BEANS
Zulieka has gone away, and left in her stead is this uptight mousy thing with hag hair, hair and bones. It takes fish oil and Vitamin D supplements, and stashes fifty bucks into a mutual fund instead of getting a haircut. You think you want pictures of it, boys? You are warned, it’s like an albino octopus from the deep, weird in an eww way and not something to stick in your mouth. Throw a blanket over it, quickly.
I wanted popcorn. He would stop the movie and pop the corn if licked his stick a minimum of three times with the promise to complete the task afterwards. The ritual of sex to me is become as boring and bland as dry turkey and cranberry. (Fucking turkey day again!)
He pinned my arms down to keep me from shielding my breasts. He has very long arms, and can reach just about everything else with his nose while holding my wrists up by my head. So this was a new thing, the mock-force, and there’s no point in hiding the fact that I was turned on by it. He’s so passive in daily life, so the hard-on (sanguine, virile, all pumped up and thrust out while the rest of him sleeps) and just the fact that he can overpower me in some way, if not in mental capacity, at least with strong arms, deserves respect.
He goes down on me and sucks at it hard so that it’s a raw nerve being zapped. Excruciating. I lay there and try to distance myself from the pain and just observe, because this is funny shit. My muscles are spazzing involuntarily, and the lower half of me is twitching violently as if I’m being electrocuted. He does his pokes and prods and I am his Frau Frankenstein. But I will not come at his bequest.
You might wonder if it’s such torture, why I fell for him. Because for the simple in and out, no frills, Freddy has everyone beat hands down. This is how Zeus would do a shepherdess. I hate him for it. I am a really sweet girl after he fucks me. It changes my personality. He thinks the sweet one is the authentic one, but we know better.
December 1st, 2009 at 12:37 am
So, will this site and the Blogspot site both be up or will you be migrating the entire thing over here?
Will you continue to allow comments?
December 2nd, 2009 at 12:28 am
Hi bilbo, I will be migrating though I can’t say when for certain. It will be gradual.
December 5th, 2009 at 12:45 am
Geez, we finally get to comment here? Wow. Love the writing & the insight into different lives. Loved all the pics too. Little Z. looked just divine the other day. Quite the character indeed. Been reading along for awhile (years?) now. Love the arty rumination stuff too. Always know that no matter where you’re at it could certainly be worse. In KS, or here in Ga. We’re constantly plumbing the depths of suck down here. And it truly is ‘the Sahara of the Beaux Arts’, in too many ways to count. The major newspaper of the South no longer has a regular ‘arts beat’ reporter. But then again, neither might the Globe soon too. Cheers & Good Luck! ‘VJ’
February 19th, 2010 at 12:30 am
prudence restrained you :: now a more infinite love like that of the mythical maids of long ago, is permitted, love, where delicious tears by the loftier ardour, still unwept, are consumed …..
We were very old.
We were dying. Death was a photographer; we had stolen his camera. A disease had caused everyone to hate each other and the world had killed itself.
We had escaped to a concrete platform that wasn’t really concrete in a city that wasn’t really Munchen. We sat on a bench and you rested your head on my shoulder.
I opened a lunch bag that was not really filled with biscuits. It was a bag of sunsets. “Look”, I said, after I counted them. “We have enough to last us till we go.”
I took one and placed it in the sky, and you opened your eyes for just a moment to see where the yellow light shining on your face was coming from.
my favorite bit … hope you are well … I always enjoy your words …
April 28th, 2010 at 3:15 am
Geez, we finally get to comment here? Wow. Love the writing & the insight into different lives. Loved all the pics too. Little Z. looked just divine the other day. Quite the character indeed. Been reading along for awhile (years?) now. Love the arty rumination stuff too. Always know that no matter where you’re at it could certainly be worse. In KS, or here in Ga. We’re constantly plumbing the depths of suck down here. And it truly is ‘the Sahara of the Beaux Arts’, in too many ways to count. The major newspaper of the South no longer has a regular ‘arts beat’ reporter. But then again, neither might the Globe soon too. Cheers & Good Luck! ‘VJ’
April 28th, 2010 at 6:02 am
prudence restrained you :: now a more infinite love like that of the mythical maids of long ago, is permitted, love, where delicious tears by the loftier ardour, still unwept, are consumed …..
We were very old.
We were dying. Death was a photographer; we had stolen his camera. A disease had caused everyone to hate each other and the world had killed itself.
We had escaped to a concrete platform that wasn’t really concrete in a city that wasn’t really Munchen. We sat on a bench and you rested your head on my shoulder.
I opened a lunch bag that was not really filled with biscuits. It was a bag of sunsets. “Look”, I said, after I counted them. “We have enough to last us till we go.”
I took one and placed it in the sky, and you opened your eyes for just a moment to see where the yellow light shining on your face was coming from.
my favorite bit … hope you are well … I always enjoy your words …