Dictation To Climax

Quill-pen-parchment-and-ink-bottle

The scene was set, the curtains closed,

the action – long and drawn out.

Midnight was approaching, and my joy lay open and empty,

right in front of my anticipatory face.

With slow hand, I lightly pinched the pen

between two warm fingers and one clumsy thumb.

Mindlessly, I felt my way around the wet ink’s slippery slopes,

making sexy doodles with the target close at hand.

Whispering sweet nothings into the fold between the lines,

I cautiously bit the end of the pen,

and waited for the word…any word at all.

Eventually, after what seemed to be

an excruciatingly lengthy period,

I got the word, and carefully did I jot it down.

Then oh, so smoothly, I brought the topic up

again…and again…and again.

Something told me not to stop,

not to move from that very spot.

I obediently listened to that voice from up above,

as it got louder with each and every stroke I made amply enough.

After a few easy to come by words,

more and more came as if in haste.

The scribbling picked up its pace,

as did the breathing, which was only natural.

True, my handwriting got a little messy,

but I did manage to get most of it down,

word after feverish word.

It does so happen sometimes –

situations can and do get turned around for the better.

Well, the climax to the story finally nailed me,

and the only thing left to do was to polish it up a bit.

Shortly thereafter,

having spent every last drop of my reserved psychic energy,

I hit the hay, resting my case.

…….

UT

*

 

 

Uncle Tree’s Temptress

Illustrated by Aaron Pocock

http://aaronpocock.wordpress.com/

*

She came to me one morning
without a leaf to bear.
I needed no fair warning
from the lass with twiggy hair.

She tickled my fancy twice,
and then brushed against me thrice.
The warm-up was very nice, but
her next move came with a price.

I paid for it dearly, and tipped her properly.
Then I asked,
“See you again next Friday?”

*

From Dictation To Climax

Quill-pen-parchment-and-ink-bottle

*

The scene was set, the curtains closed,

the action – long and drawn out.

Midnight was approaching, and my joy lay open and empty,

right in front of my anticipatory face.

With slow hand, I lightly pinched the pen

between two warm fingers and one clumsy thumb.

Mindlessly, I felt my way around the wet ink’s slippery slopes,

making sexy doodles with the target close at hand.

Whispering sweet nothings into the fold between the lines,

I cautiously bit the end of the pen,

and waited for the word…any word at all.

Continue reading