It would appear that I am back.
"Make love to me," she cried, as she opened her hips to me. I stared, and did not know what to do -- transfixed, seemingly, by the emptiness between her legs. This was no ordinary woman; were it Jane or Evita or even Sharon, I would have known what to do. Old habits die hard, yeah? But this one -- dark on the outside, creamy white on the inside, somewhat textured but only very lightly -- this one brooked no comment or hesitation. This one made me shudder in a fit of creative palsy, like I had never done before.
It was a new world, a new land, a new way of doing things. I dove in and started stroking as her warmth closed around me, supple and comfortable. It was a new second skin -- I had a new journal, and her name was Emma.
originally written 6.03p 05.Aug.06
This one tumbled out, fully formed, as if from the forehead of Zeus, when I picked up a new journal. It was very strange; I could not get it down fast enough. That said, there's a longer similar piece coming. Comments always welcome.
It was a new world, a new land, a new way of doing things. I dove in and started stroking as her warmth closed around me, supple and comfortable. It was a new second skin -- I had a new journal, and her name was Emma.
originally written 6.03p 05.Aug.06
This one tumbled out, fully formed, as if from the forehead of Zeus, when I picked up a new journal. It was very strange; I could not get it down fast enough. That said, there's a longer similar piece coming. Comments always welcome.