My son was with his dad for Easter weekend and consequentially, or perhaps serendipitously, all sorts of wild parties were flung about Seattle for me.
Luckily, I’d just scored bigtime in the naughty wardrobe dept!(thanks, Sandra!)
My ‘cocktail’ attire, for the birthday bash(Many happy returns, Cara!):
and, amping(or perhaps vamping?) the badness just a little for SINchronisity:
I also wrote(and read) some poetical stuff for Josh’s fantastic Seder feast.
Ahem:
‘What I came here for’
‘Shit’she said.
‘I’ve lost it.’ Dragging her fingers aimlessly
through the bits and pieces of people she used to know.
‘It’s got to be here somewhere’.
I look at the box, but my search starts
with her rigid, angry shoulders,
Awkward flutters subsiding under seismographic hands.
Churning loose the dammed muscles,
melting spasms of denial,
exposing caverns of hot, hot shame.
The eruption shakes her whole slender frame.
Wrapped and rocked in my arms she sobs
ten years of damage into my lap.
‘It’s OK,’ I murmur through her hair in my mouth.
‘I found what I came here for.’
and, on a more erotic note(avert your mind if girlgirl sex offends thee), here’s my guided meditation for the evening:
Close your eyes, my friends. It’s a warm, sunny day. You are feeling languid, happy and unashamedly self-indulgent, lying on this soft velvet comforter, spread luxuriantly upon a very cozy bed. Utterly relaxed, you stretch blissfully, arms over head, lacing your fingers through the curved bronze fronds of the bedframe, pulling slightly to enhance and intensify that delicious, almost painful end range of the stretch in your shoulders.
Dazzling golden sunshine slants through the blinds, ribbing your body with alternating lines of darkness and brilliance. Releasing your grip, your hands slide over the familiar lines of your face and continue down to caress your beautiful body, fondly fondling your angles and curves as you breathe in the sweet fresh spring air through the slightly open window, redolent with the scent of cherry blossoms.
Now you are ready.
These fertile valleys and gorgeous swelling hills are mine and hers. Belly to belly and breast to breast.
There’s no softness in the whole damn world like my breasts against hers. The salt-licked succulence of her explodes my senses.
She enters my bedroom, stalks me lynxlike, on feather soft paws and pounces in flurries of giggles that morph into growls as I feel the heat in her eyes rise from my skin.
I reach out, but she pushes me down onto the purple velvet and buckle by buckle, layers of leather and lace drop from her deft fingers, festooning the bed with crumpled chocolate elegance.
My tigress unsheathes her luxurious breasts, they spill free, heavy, sun-striped, glorious.
An amused eyebrow arches at my dazzled expression, but she doesn’t stop my upward surge and I bury my face in her, marvel at the exquisite weight of boobs so unlike my own tiny plums.
We tumble, her giggles gone gasping wiggles as I wrap myself around her like a mating snake, all curves and sinuous coils.
So much softness! Giddy, I lose myself in her mouth, tasting the outrageous heady richness of her, almost overwhelmed by her dancing fingers
clever, intuitive, pearl-diver fingers, tracing their perilous patterns in and out and round and round and round…
Her teasing circles send excited whispers through my belly, her spirals radiate up my spine and her figure eights?
Well, let’s just say, I’m glad the neighbors are old and deaf.
This weekend was such mad fun-it’s a magnificent blurr of parties and inebriated crushes and many, many delicious kisses. I’ll prolly post some more pics later if I cajol the approval of my sexy cohorts.
Love y’all.
