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My own secret life 
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Hardening, softening.
"Dinner!" "Lots of garlic. Mmmm!" Down the all-weather red carpeted hallway, down the stairs: smiling, the mama-san unbolts the door: down the outer stairs, and into the white peelingpaint-lintelled redrainyneon blue dusk of the street. I forget to look up for the birds.
"My bird is old." "You are not old; you come here!" "My bird is old; it has seen a lot." "Next time, we will make love first." Can you get inside my head so I can come? "There was one other thing. Before, you..." I move her hand down to her motte. "I made myself come." "Your pussy was juicy. Not like with lube." And the smell. "I didn't want to ask you—" She makes to lie back. "No, you are done for the day!"
Check. Fingers on dry latex. Not soft— "Why pussy? Miaow?" Her fluting voice, poohssy. The mirror's at the head of the bed, but my glasses are on the nightstand, so all in the mirror is blurred: She presents, doggy style: her face in the pillow ample rump in the air: I cup her glutes lightly and still she reciprocates: A fury of thwacking and slapping decreasing in amplitude increasing in pitch, then I slow: dip myself into, into her stickiness, again, good, again, again: A pendulum arcing six inches out, then six in: Working behind her, force over distance: Since she's not on all fours, but pushing her ass up, and I'm kneeling behind her my dick horizontal, her cunt's angled such that at each inward thrust I pop past something skeleto-muscular: a cuntal speed bump. Generously, she was increasing my friction.
"I didn't go sit in Victoria Square." "You must go sit in the Square. You must look at the people, and look at the dogs. A fat lady with short hair will have a fat dog with a short hair. A thin lady will have a thin dog. I took my cat to the vet. I got the same result." "A result." "Yes." Fluting. "You have a cat." "Yes."
"Ah!" "Oooooh...." "A million sperm." I plant both feet back on the bed, making sure not to hit her head or her shoulders. "Can you hear that bird out the window?" Lying with my head on her breast. "Many birds." "How do you know?" "When there are many birds, they each sing one note. We have one bird down on the second floor, she sings many notes." "Cheep chirrup-cheep Che-e-e-e-eep cheep-cheep-cheep!" "I will have to look up for the birds when I go."
"Angel, please." "Angel out shopping." "When will she be back?" "In one hour." "I'll be back then." "Promise?" "Promise." Last time, she actually had gone shopping: Pink flip flops from the Gap, the insoles screen-printed with perky green palm trees.  "Is it raining?" It's spitting? No. Not here. "A little." "Did you miss me?" "Yes. I thought of you." "He missed me!" {290} 1 Comments:
John, By All characters and situations fictional. Copyright (c) 2003-2007 by "John Psmyth."
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