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Summer Daze
When I first saw you , in Sitges , across from the bay- To say I was struck by your display of non-attire is hardly an understatement.
My eyes darted in every direction . Phallic erections were all I could see in my embarrassed array- it was all so blatant.
There was simply nothing else I could do but hold eye contact with you – those emerald-flecked eyes is when I felt true mesmerism.
It was only then I realised how naked I felt fully dressed on this hidden beach -it projected the true souls that contain all thing auriferous.
My hands easily untied my tie-dyed blue sarong. I didn’t stop there . I may only have a hand full but I whipped off my white bikini top and wriggled out of my bottoms. All I could sense was an aura emanating off of you
(sigh) simply so… chivalrous.
The sun shone starkly – but being the mightiest of knights you picked up my clothes, placed them next to yours. You took my hand and guided me -running , gold spun,free – to the turquoise , fish enchanted ocean.
Legs entwined around your torso – skin on skin contact – salty, wet, tongue licks of devouring devotion.
Lavishing one other, two became one. The ripples, the bubbles- our heady infusion, blasted open my eyes to the skies- – tufted clouds – summoned up an old tune-
Puff the magic dragon.
Magic is always possible when you believe in you. I swear it had nothing to do with that extravagant elixir of a cocktail – I imbibed a couple of hours before, at that quaint restaurant – the one that I drank out of a craggan.
Composure – time to depart, float on my back -contemplate this dilemma of how quick I was to abandon my clothes.
I may have come into the world as naked as I am right now but I know what is waiting on the coastline is a far cry from my fantasised hardened cocks.
In fact quite the opposite. I know no shadow can camouflage the pruned skin of a 60-year-old Grandad with a wrinkled ,flaccid penis.
Christ, I am 21 years old- apologies for the sudden heaving up of old man smell that a young me loathes.
It was meant to be a bit of fun – find the secret nudist beach – have a laugh – take a few sneaky pics ,make them go viral- anything for a cheap high.
It’s gone viral alright – my mates couldn’t resist -filmed it all!
pardon me – if I gather my clothes and seek legal advice to prove to you all – this act is one steeped in a state of stultify?
Her Legacy.
Coming from a place of Fury. Never go to sleep with an angry mind so I saved it for waking up on my side of the bed.
Move two steps and three paces backwards, doubts plague me. Dementia ‘s grey cloak veils all I want to retain in my head.
The sheep get weary before I do.
I watch them sleep.
Wolf-like I want to smash through them. Fangs connect -impact on bone and tissue -a red massacre.
I need colour in my life.
This visceral creativity is swallowing me whole. I’m in the bottle – blurred images are all I see on the horizon.
Spin the bottle,maybe I will land in a place with less strife.
Cramming in mouthfuls of
anxiety,
self-loathing,
head battering, assault weapons of thoughts.
I’m bloated to the state that my discontentment leaves me, like a sleepy wide-eyed owl – manic in my state – shoving in fistfuls – I need to lucubrate.
Nothing sticks except the whiff of the end of a successful selling day at a Parisian fish market.
I am the babe the market seller gave birth to. Times up for this broody bird to incubate.
Cord snapped with a fish gutting knife. Abandoned the moment money exchanged hands.
Only enough for a Meal for one. Survival is my greatest chance. Nurture myself and hone in on any innate talents now, so I can control the succession of Fates brass bands.
It is my birthday. I get one day to shine. Tomorrow I could be slapped away with one salty breathe, inflicted wounds forgotten with yesterday’s newspapers headlines.
I came into this world with the cards I was dealt. I can cry a Seines- full of tears for the life that could have got caught up in the catch of the day fisherman’s net lines.
I refuse to be that inmate -on a bed of foliage, with one glassy eye, staring up at you. Doesn’t matter how well you dress me up – my fate is not to be found in a 5-star Michelin restaurant.
Grill me, poach me, puree me- see what happens when you try and throw me in the oil fryer.
This amphibian has wings of hope. Higher consciousness has blessed me with a generous grant.
I soar above all the conventional career options for my kind.
I will never be normal and for that, I will not apologise.
Evolved -a hybrid.
I have to decline your maverick binds.
Today I walk with two legs and two eyes looking forward. Destiny is a start and thanks to you, dear mother,for letting me find my own way.
I took my life into my own hands – my heart beats with passion,drive, ambition and the fear.
I have made it this far – so either stick by me and support me in what I do or feel free to stand out of my way and go astray.
Titivate to titilate
When
She is in the mood to arouse you and She wants you to reciprocate.
She has a technique she uses to spruce up her petals.
inject a colour dye
No doctors needed to take an oath
No need to hang dry and desiccate.
All she desires is to tempt you with her words.
She looks upon them as her Fire stoked Lords.
Simple and overused is tedious when used as commoner slurs.
So titivate is something She does.
It doesn’t require a zazen mind state to create an immediate demand for 1950 style Fords.
Take a dust feather to your ear, tickling it ever so slightly, a murmured breathe escapes – to let you know she is quite eager and indeed keen.
Arouse you with whispers of sweet adjectives.
Use words that excite you to shudder instinctively.
Now She needs to make herself seen.
Fluttering eyelashes – butterfly kisses.
Sensual and cute -tempting yet blissfully innocent.
Pure and light and dreamy enough to set your imagination to seek out. Whatever is in that mind of yours…
She wants you to know She finds you alluring
magnificent.
Which of your senses does she wish to tease out the most?
The ones that arouse mental fuckability from an agile, graceful host.
Often she craves a tidy up just to try out something new.
Freshen the vibe up.
Create dribbles from your lush dew.
Bubbles have more of more a rambunctious appeal.
Invite a sense of pure, exquisite fun
Her mind seeks out to imbue.
So to titillate you, she has to titivate herself.
Seems rather rueful
Please be curious about what she has in her mind –
Truth is her middle name.
Look by all means.
Dare is the name she gave to herself when she was born.
Feel free to question her too.
She speaks in orgasms when someone can make her laugh with their wit or indeed see a sparkle of hers thrown our carefree and unconsciously.
successful relationships are a honed practised recipe inciting those who have an inkling or some fledgeling clue.
Daisy in the willows 