Friday, October 5, 2007

Filling an ephemeral position.

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An accelerated, centipedal engineer trampled something I cannot identify; the scrotum arrived before the penis. As strangely as darkness fell, its antennae dangled above the sage-flanked sauna, annotating every percussive, little contact made against Om-nilna's sweaty awareness. Om-nilna rippled and tesselated between an enormous, pulsating tuffet and that great, dripping, scrutinizing overseer.

Without realizing it, Om-nilna extended her dehydrated labialingua some thirty feet into the night abyss and whispered her mounting anxiety regarding carnal maneuvers with a cushioned stool. Tochtli's ghost materialized and firmly ejaculated, "At least it's comfortable to sit on it. Just keep sitting on it for a while. Eventually you can step on it and reach for something a bit more accessible."

Om-nilna's conscience bubbled and hissed as the gentle upholstery of her seat draped across her bosom and wrinkled around her pelvis. If I am to continue sitting on this, she decided, morally I cannot permit it to fuck me. Hallucination weakly transitioned to actuality; Tochtli absconded to its steaming carcass on the asphalt.

"Oh, I can't take it anymore!" she groaned, and her vulva vomited my interpretation of us.

We slept straddling seventy stranded centimeters.

(Written 6/16/06; edited 10/5/07.)
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