Post by goldenmyst on Jan 24, 2019 0:39:22 GMT -6
Late Night D&D
A girl and two guys in the oil field night play dungeons and dragons in a trailer threesome.
Midnight has come and gone. Holly discloses her use of hairbrush which is not just for combing hair she says. For the strands twined twixt the silk-bristles come from her golden fleece.
She proposes it for men. Jim says “wouldn’t a hand be better for males?” Holly mumbles frustration that her idea was dismissed so easily.
Holly’s words are sprinkled like red wine into my thirsty ear. Each song of her laughter serenades my soul into surrender. Her Cajun chardonnay charm bathes me in liquor libations. Her stories wrap me in pastry dreams. She tells tales of bohemian rapture in the slums of New Orleans where she fed the ragamuffin children from her kitchen of plenty.
The incidental theme of sex darts into our discussion then dashes into the forest like a fawn. Her earthy humor tickles my heart. She once drank water like beer. Her spring Robin song was, “Pee, pee, pee, pee” sung with glee.
She banishes cerebral exchange from the realm of our conversation. She is a natural Prozac and my worries fall like raindrops into her river of magic.
She time trips me into the past of kindergarten traumas and coaxes me to tell her all. Then leads me into waters of forgiveness where softness overcomes hardness. Knotted emotions untangle in a calliope of healing. I lick her Bordeaux lilt from my heaven spiced cup of divinity.
She says, “You know I took it upon myself to do mission work with strangers. So I would hug and touch them while riding the streetcar. It was my way of spreading caring in this love-starved world. Of course, my intention was not to have sex with them.”
“Yes but, wasn’t that an invitation to unsavory characters to take advantage of your kind gesture?”
“That was a hazard of the ministry. But the positive energy outweighed the negative by the ton.”
“So your gift of touch feeds the hungry multitudes like Jesus with his loaves of bread and fish. But in this case, the supply is unlimited.”
“Yes! Modesty is the only impediment to hugs. Otherwise, this wonderful family of humankind would embrace each other at every opportunity.”
“Well, I’ll be golly gee willikers.”
“My mission took me into the profession of caregiver for a paraplegic man. He could no longer have sex so I massaged his shoulders. It was a highlight of my life as a woman.”
“Surely, though you felt a physical connection with this man, it was nothing on the level of sexual intimacy.”
“Oh, but it was incredibly sexual. And I felt completely secure with him, unlike most men.”
“You mean without his equipment being in a condition to please a woman what you had with him was more than mere touching?”
“Give me a break. You clearly haven’t been touched like that. If you were you, wouldn’t be asking such questions.”
“What was his profession before being crippled?”
“Hey, don’t call him crippled. He was a skiing instructor and had a ski accident. But once we made love. That is all I’ll say about that. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.”
Jim says, “How brazen of you two to flirt right in front of me. I am the boyfriend. But it is nothing that a batch of chocolate chip cookies won’t heal.”
Her diet has her famished. So she eats one cookie while Jim and I clean the plate. “How is it you two can eat like hogs but not put on a pound? Yet every bite I take makes me fat.”
Jim says, “Because we need more calories for our muscles to compete for Alpha male status.”
Holly says, “I’m not looking for a silver-backed gorilla. I want a guy whose brain uses more energy than his brawn.”
Jim replies, “Oh yea. Then why are you with me instead of a geek like John.”
“Well, I confess to a penchant for the he-man. But there is an undeniable mystique to brainiacs like John.” Holly kisses John on the lips.
“Giving John your sugar is so sweet yet such a cheat” Jim complains.
“Kisses are like pennies. To fill my piggy bank of kisses before I’m eighty I must diversify.”
I sleep on the couch while Jim asserts his manly rights by sharing the bed with Holly. Outside the oil rigs pump to make love to the substratum.
A girl and two guys in the oil field night play dungeons and dragons in a trailer threesome.
Midnight has come and gone. Holly discloses her use of hairbrush which is not just for combing hair she says. For the strands twined twixt the silk-bristles come from her golden fleece.
She proposes it for men. Jim says “wouldn’t a hand be better for males?” Holly mumbles frustration that her idea was dismissed so easily.
Holly’s words are sprinkled like red wine into my thirsty ear. Each song of her laughter serenades my soul into surrender. Her Cajun chardonnay charm bathes me in liquor libations. Her stories wrap me in pastry dreams. She tells tales of bohemian rapture in the slums of New Orleans where she fed the ragamuffin children from her kitchen of plenty.
The incidental theme of sex darts into our discussion then dashes into the forest like a fawn. Her earthy humor tickles my heart. She once drank water like beer. Her spring Robin song was, “Pee, pee, pee, pee” sung with glee.
She banishes cerebral exchange from the realm of our conversation. She is a natural Prozac and my worries fall like raindrops into her river of magic.
She time trips me into the past of kindergarten traumas and coaxes me to tell her all. Then leads me into waters of forgiveness where softness overcomes hardness. Knotted emotions untangle in a calliope of healing. I lick her Bordeaux lilt from my heaven spiced cup of divinity.
She says, “You know I took it upon myself to do mission work with strangers. So I would hug and touch them while riding the streetcar. It was my way of spreading caring in this love-starved world. Of course, my intention was not to have sex with them.”
“Yes but, wasn’t that an invitation to unsavory characters to take advantage of your kind gesture?”
“That was a hazard of the ministry. But the positive energy outweighed the negative by the ton.”
“So your gift of touch feeds the hungry multitudes like Jesus with his loaves of bread and fish. But in this case, the supply is unlimited.”
“Yes! Modesty is the only impediment to hugs. Otherwise, this wonderful family of humankind would embrace each other at every opportunity.”
“Well, I’ll be golly gee willikers.”
“My mission took me into the profession of caregiver for a paraplegic man. He could no longer have sex so I massaged his shoulders. It was a highlight of my life as a woman.”
“Surely, though you felt a physical connection with this man, it was nothing on the level of sexual intimacy.”
“Oh, but it was incredibly sexual. And I felt completely secure with him, unlike most men.”
“You mean without his equipment being in a condition to please a woman what you had with him was more than mere touching?”
“Give me a break. You clearly haven’t been touched like that. If you were you, wouldn’t be asking such questions.”
“What was his profession before being crippled?”
“Hey, don’t call him crippled. He was a skiing instructor and had a ski accident. But once we made love. That is all I’ll say about that. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.”
Jim says, “How brazen of you two to flirt right in front of me. I am the boyfriend. But it is nothing that a batch of chocolate chip cookies won’t heal.”
Her diet has her famished. So she eats one cookie while Jim and I clean the plate. “How is it you two can eat like hogs but not put on a pound? Yet every bite I take makes me fat.”
Jim says, “Because we need more calories for our muscles to compete for Alpha male status.”
Holly says, “I’m not looking for a silver-backed gorilla. I want a guy whose brain uses more energy than his brawn.”
Jim replies, “Oh yea. Then why are you with me instead of a geek like John.”
“Well, I confess to a penchant for the he-man. But there is an undeniable mystique to brainiacs like John.” Holly kisses John on the lips.
“Giving John your sugar is so sweet yet such a cheat” Jim complains.
“Kisses are like pennies. To fill my piggy bank of kisses before I’m eighty I must diversify.”
I sleep on the couch while Jim asserts his manly rights by sharing the bed with Holly. Outside the oil rigs pump to make love to the substratum.
