Tuesday, April 01, 2003

a long, picture painting sentance or two

it was in her night-time dreams that her daydreams came true. there, freed from the cold bondage of her priggish upbringing, her hothouse fantasies blossomed in candy colours: she crawled through an orgy in a pitch-dark room, tasting everything she touched until the flavours made her brain ring like a holiday bell; she performed a fantastic cartwheel through a constellation of stars and blue moons onto a cosmic buffet table where she lay naked amid the viandes and desserts, dappled with sauce, prinked with flecks of celestial mayonnaise and meringue and sweet adhesive gravies, herself the piece de resistance for the gods and godesses who began to jostle one another in competition to taste her hot and savoury corpus; she drank ginger beer from the black-leather boot of a countess while the lovely lady's toe tickled sparks of orgasm from the tender tinder of her clit; she swung on a braided golden rope across a huge ballroom where a host of naked lords and ladies played a roistering parlour game on all fours, dropping herself carefully and with unerring accuracy onto an uptilted erection that her plaush sex encapsulated as smoothly as a velvet glove did a well-manicured hand.

and the one that makes me laugh

not for nothing was he a mathematician. he divided her legs and added his body to hers, then began to do immeasurably pleasurable things with their figures, multiplying sensations, faster than any computer, losing himslef in the soft geometry of her vital statistics, their libidos mutually entwining like an exercise in hot topology. his cock harder than advanced calculus.
'soixante neuf, soixante neuf!', she begged, reaching for the ceiling as he plowed her like the proverbial north forty. but, aslas, he did not speak french and thought she was sneezing.
later, in the aftermath, she would reach for his abacus and only half playfully attempt to lodge it in an uncomfortable place, while whispering to him a bit of advice on the value of learning a little about the language arts.

the notebooks of gatling wessex - larry tritten

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