Post by goldenmyst on Nov 7, 2019 0:15:15 GMT -6
Dangerous Chemistry
Ro says, “Upon Mount Helicon’s flanks, we found holy water to heal the pleurisy of our mutual pine unto connubial bliss. The Valley of the Muses sang of Pegasus whose hoof clubbed the outcrop to release water sweet as a honeysuckle summer. This horse’s fountain summoned a crew of muses like oarsmen to cross the literary doldrums. Though sacred these waters welcomed us, newlyweds, to make love beneath the honeyed moon.”
John replies, “Our anniversary is upon us with the swiftness of Hermes with his winged feet. Therefore let us find frolic when the pilgrims are at home at season’s end and the tree nymphs see but do not speak.”
Rowena says, “I hear there is a leafy woman whose lush wishes are bestowed upon you. She is a water nymph so I’m told who prefers her lessons while bathing.”
John replies, “The straws of her hair cannot compare to the golden spun of yours. She is a student of mere dialectic who seeks my tutelage in academic pursuits.”
Ro says, “Methinks her interest lies beyond the flowering of Athens. But trust is essential to any pairing of our kind. Therefore, I permit you to bathe with her so long as the only soothing touch is that of the water.”
And so John meets Chloe unbeknownst to Ro in the very same grotto where Ro and he first found fruition. This place held Chloe in its sacred sway because it was where her virginity became a paradise lost but not missed.
They arrive at the forest cathedral of pines. There a sprinkle of water from the cloud heights touches their faces with soft dreams. They cross the bridge into the grotto world.
They stand beside each other next to the steaming pool where his bohemian maiden casts her naked spell upon him. Chloe tells John, “Good sir, let’s unclothe to feel the steamy water upon our bare bodies.”
He replies, “I am a man of modesty.”
She says, “There is nothing immodest about feeling nature’s touch. You posed with your wife for the artist back at her studio. Your hang-up about nudity is the ghost of shower room mockery past.”
He replies, “My wife modeled with me not a vixen capable of a hex to vex the fairer sex in whom my love is invested. The ring around my finger could become a noose whereby my second-neck hangs from the gallows of a woman scorned.”
Chloe says, “What gall hath a man to deny his thrall by a woman. Why is our state of undress an issue? If your vows to her are steadfast then surely they will not bend or stretch from nudity. You should have brought your easel to stroke me with your brush into the image wherein beauty lies. Reticence needs a remedy and of words, there is no end. Well, then ladies first.”
Chloe levitates her tunic with her slinky séance. His eyes behold the bathing beauty in her birthday suit. Her aureole is the pink of the sinking sun over the crest of her mountains. She charms him bare.
They sink into the warm water where Chloe faces him and his eyes cannot help but encompass her beauty.
Chloe says, “My daemon speaks to me here like I am a female Socrates.”
John replies, “My Xanthippe is at home. But so long as I am not your Socrates then we shall keep to our chest and leave the rest. We dare not loosen our lips to my wife that your chosen spring was the same as that for our honeymoon. Angels and ministers of God would spurn my invocation in the face of her wrath.”
“Teach me of love. My academic struggles are only surpassed by those who gnaw at my heart like a ravenous wolf. Please let not that lupine devour the very life force which sustains me.”
John replies, “Love is the snap of a ginger biscuit on a lonely birthday.”
Chloe says, “Please for the love of the Gods, do snap me. Let me be your cookie for which there is no substitute in heaven or on earth. The satiny lining of my pursed heart is easily singed by an unrequited match made in heaven.”
Ro appears from behind the bushes. “Ah hah, there is no privacy between a husband and wife. My thirsty ears have had their fill. And chicanery becomes you not sweet Chloe. Henceforth your lessons will be roofed by the lyceum wherein love is Platonic.”
Rowena converges upon them in the spring while Chloe retreats into a Spartan guise. Upon a love scene with her husband worthy of the theater, the jealous tears in Chloe’s eyes sparkle like the diamond in the ring which belongs to Ro.
Ro says, “Weep not maiden for love will wash away your tears. A cock will crow for you. Do not seek a grain of love in the eye of a married man. Such a grain will turn into glass only to blind you both.”
Chloe curtsies like a bridesmaid whose wedding gift is an invitation to sightsee her backside scenery which is just inches from John’s face. But he averts his peepers and they rise from their liquid fantasy into the reality of clothed life.
John’s gaze looks back at the world they are leaving behind. There Chloe, the dark-haired maiden, sits on the rocky edge of the pool with her feet dangling in the water. In the shadowy sunset, her dark thatch invites a lover who is not John.
Rowena says, “Honey my fuss was all for naught. Your tongue was reserved for speech and your prick was a bone of contention but you stood your ground.”
Ro says, “Upon Mount Helicon’s flanks, we found holy water to heal the pleurisy of our mutual pine unto connubial bliss. The Valley of the Muses sang of Pegasus whose hoof clubbed the outcrop to release water sweet as a honeysuckle summer. This horse’s fountain summoned a crew of muses like oarsmen to cross the literary doldrums. Though sacred these waters welcomed us, newlyweds, to make love beneath the honeyed moon.”
John replies, “Our anniversary is upon us with the swiftness of Hermes with his winged feet. Therefore let us find frolic when the pilgrims are at home at season’s end and the tree nymphs see but do not speak.”
Rowena says, “I hear there is a leafy woman whose lush wishes are bestowed upon you. She is a water nymph so I’m told who prefers her lessons while bathing.”
John replies, “The straws of her hair cannot compare to the golden spun of yours. She is a student of mere dialectic who seeks my tutelage in academic pursuits.”
Ro says, “Methinks her interest lies beyond the flowering of Athens. But trust is essential to any pairing of our kind. Therefore, I permit you to bathe with her so long as the only soothing touch is that of the water.”
And so John meets Chloe unbeknownst to Ro in the very same grotto where Ro and he first found fruition. This place held Chloe in its sacred sway because it was where her virginity became a paradise lost but not missed.
They arrive at the forest cathedral of pines. There a sprinkle of water from the cloud heights touches their faces with soft dreams. They cross the bridge into the grotto world.
They stand beside each other next to the steaming pool where his bohemian maiden casts her naked spell upon him. Chloe tells John, “Good sir, let’s unclothe to feel the steamy water upon our bare bodies.”
He replies, “I am a man of modesty.”
She says, “There is nothing immodest about feeling nature’s touch. You posed with your wife for the artist back at her studio. Your hang-up about nudity is the ghost of shower room mockery past.”
He replies, “My wife modeled with me not a vixen capable of a hex to vex the fairer sex in whom my love is invested. The ring around my finger could become a noose whereby my second-neck hangs from the gallows of a woman scorned.”
Chloe says, “What gall hath a man to deny his thrall by a woman. Why is our state of undress an issue? If your vows to her are steadfast then surely they will not bend or stretch from nudity. You should have brought your easel to stroke me with your brush into the image wherein beauty lies. Reticence needs a remedy and of words, there is no end. Well, then ladies first.”
Chloe levitates her tunic with her slinky séance. His eyes behold the bathing beauty in her birthday suit. Her aureole is the pink of the sinking sun over the crest of her mountains. She charms him bare.
They sink into the warm water where Chloe faces him and his eyes cannot help but encompass her beauty.
Chloe says, “My daemon speaks to me here like I am a female Socrates.”
John replies, “My Xanthippe is at home. But so long as I am not your Socrates then we shall keep to our chest and leave the rest. We dare not loosen our lips to my wife that your chosen spring was the same as that for our honeymoon. Angels and ministers of God would spurn my invocation in the face of her wrath.”
“Teach me of love. My academic struggles are only surpassed by those who gnaw at my heart like a ravenous wolf. Please let not that lupine devour the very life force which sustains me.”
John replies, “Love is the snap of a ginger biscuit on a lonely birthday.”
Chloe says, “Please for the love of the Gods, do snap me. Let me be your cookie for which there is no substitute in heaven or on earth. The satiny lining of my pursed heart is easily singed by an unrequited match made in heaven.”
Ro appears from behind the bushes. “Ah hah, there is no privacy between a husband and wife. My thirsty ears have had their fill. And chicanery becomes you not sweet Chloe. Henceforth your lessons will be roofed by the lyceum wherein love is Platonic.”
Rowena converges upon them in the spring while Chloe retreats into a Spartan guise. Upon a love scene with her husband worthy of the theater, the jealous tears in Chloe’s eyes sparkle like the diamond in the ring which belongs to Ro.
Ro says, “Weep not maiden for love will wash away your tears. A cock will crow for you. Do not seek a grain of love in the eye of a married man. Such a grain will turn into glass only to blind you both.”
Chloe curtsies like a bridesmaid whose wedding gift is an invitation to sightsee her backside scenery which is just inches from John’s face. But he averts his peepers and they rise from their liquid fantasy into the reality of clothed life.
John’s gaze looks back at the world they are leaving behind. There Chloe, the dark-haired maiden, sits on the rocky edge of the pool with her feet dangling in the water. In the shadowy sunset, her dark thatch invites a lover who is not John.
Rowena says, “Honey my fuss was all for naught. Your tongue was reserved for speech and your prick was a bone of contention but you stood your ground.”
John