PUSSY TALK

JUST BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE TEETH...

DOESN'T MEAN I CAN'T TALK.

He used to talk about me all the time..

when i was fresh and new in his eyes,

and splenderous to his taste.

He used to like to keep me hidden,

dressed and yet accessible....

shadowy and yet exposed...

Since I was young,

I'd wanted a man who could understand

what worked within my folds..

who could open me,

and succor me...

gently twist and tease me..

someone who could draw the honey from the hive,

someone who knew the rhythms..

someone who had the means to the end.

Many tried...

impostors all,

with their rough trimmed nails and calloused hands...

they stroked and prodded,

but mostly they missed..

both the entrances and the exits..

no sense of timing,

no flair for the dramatic or the romantic...

gropers and graspers,

they came and went..

and left me tight...

wound up high like a paranoid cobra.

Some i would show the way..

point out the scenery

and the landmarks...

but they kept asking

are we there yet???

and we never were.

Some I would entertain,

grasping and clutching and slurping

as they slid smoothly high inside

but sex is the pinnacle of the peter principle

and when they found their own particular summit

they always started back down,

generally passing me

still climbing... but to nowhere.

At least there were always the fingers..

the knowing homegrown digits,

which had raised me from a kitten..

at least they knew where i was,

and where I wanted to go

and how to get me there

and safely back again...

but fingers one knows,

are like kissing your sister..

pleasant..

but designed for different purposes.

I wanted new flesh inside of me...

I wanted someone to begin at the small of the back

and move over the cheeks upon which i float..

I wanted them to slip inside the satin which hides me...

down over the tickly fur which leads into my home...

I wanted shaky, nervous hands to become

relaxed and reassured,

as they parted my foliage

and sought my heat..

I wanted to hear moans from afar away,

and know that I was causing them..

I wanted to feel the fires flame inside of me

and douse them

over and over..

and that's what he used to do...

before he touched my lips with his,

and nestled his tongue tip between them,

to bathe and caress me...

he would separate my covers..

move the air towards my heart

and gently raise my flag.

He would make sounds of worship

as he took me into his hot mouth...

and breathed into my fires..

fanning the flames

into an inferno within me.

and when his soft firm tongue,

slipped deep into me,

and curled around the pinnacle of my passions...

I knew that soon would be the heaven..

soon would be the time when the world stopped

and the oceans would rise inside of me

and threaten to drown me

and him within me.

And when the floods subside,

and I feel the tide begin to ebb,

he enters me..

fully and hard..

almost savage

and that's the fulfillment..

that's the wholeness

for which i was created..

and to which I respond...

it's what makes me different from an ear,

or an elbow..

that sense of spiritual completeness..

oneness

and

peace..

that's the way he used to be...

but it's been almost twenty minutes since then...

when does this torment end...

ahhhh

i feel the fingertips.

TO RETURN TO THE MAIN PAGE MAIN PAGE