Wednesday, June 2, 2010

piles of rain & whatnot

sexy sea turtle Pictures, Images and Photos
On the early morning news today the weather reporter was stationed at a suburban intersection in a blue raincoat as rain splattered her big microphone and dashed the camera lens. She told us about the big spring storm (it's raining) and traffic issues. The camera panned around the intersection. Three cars drove by. Then she said, "Be careful as there is a lots of rain splashing in the street and whatnot." She ended the segment with, "The rain is piling up."

Sometimes it rains so much around here that even the weather people go nuts. Piles of rain and whatnot in the streets?

What a strange world.

I'll stick making things up, hahahaha! When it rains on the desert playa, the ancient lake bed turns to thick, sticky goo that collects on your feet like cement. Tonight, in the dream, it's as dry as smoke and the moon is out.......there might be some whatnot lurking, though.

Turtle Dreams

We dreamed we were turtles. We dreamed we were five hundred years old and
soaring through space, slipping across the delicate membrane of subconscious wandering, longing for nothing, riding the swells of time and space within the ebb and flow of a cosmic green dream.

Phosphorescence sustained our meandering. We simply followed the blue-green glow from archipelago to atoll to island nation where drumbeat and swaying breasts and oily torchlight splayed the inky darkness.

"Do something for me," he said, leaning in slightly. Leaning towards my heart. His eyes had said it before he did. My heart twisted and thumped wildly in my chest. Wind blew softly through the firs. That's when the dreaming began. "Kiss me, he said." His big hands held me close and stroked my body. He wrapped me in a strong embrace that grounded me for an eternity.

We danced in a large circle of blue light in the middle of the playa. The full moon overhead lit the chalky white desert floor in a circle. He had taken the peyote tablets about an hour before. He stood naked in the moonlight, muscles gleaming, sweat forming on his chest and neck, swaying in the still warm desert air. A great horned owl called to its mate in the cottonwood grove.

The cracked floor of the playa held my feet as he tipped his head back and howled. It wasn't long before the coyotes joined in. I'd be watching over him tonight. Tomorrow it would be my turn to enter the sea of dreams.

"Oh wow," he moaned, pointing at a far-off point in the brilliant sky. "That's the one."

I knelt before him and took his soft cock in my mouth as he gazed rapt at the heavens. The warm tip was salty and still tasted and smelled of my tangy cunt. He might not get hard tonight, but that was fine. I simply wanted to taste him. I wanted to help the drug along with my tongue. He would tell me, later, that my lips pulsed with their own soul and that my eyes glowed orange in the night. He would tell me how he could feel my heart beating in the rocks and that my voice came from somewhere inside of him. He didn't hear me speaking, but could feel the sound of my voice in his veins. He said my tongue took the form of a snake as his sensual world erupted and exploded with the force of a a thousand imploding universes. As the drug took hold, he said, he felt as if every cell in his body was fucking all of his senses and bursting with never-ending cascades of intense orgasms. Strangely, he said, the pleasure, as powerful and sensual as it was, felt more spiritual than physical.....pure and without doubt, emotion, even without thinking.

That's what he told me afterwards. But now I was just happy to be grooving on his cock while he moaned and made animal sounds deep in his throat, his mind freed, finally, from the cage of existence.

4 comments:

Jeremy Edwards said...

Ask not what your whatnot can do for you; ask what you can do for your whatnot.

And you did it!

[Hahahaha! My spamword is howles! In addition to referencing the coyotes, it's clearly an allusion to Mr. and Mrs. Howell, whom you turtle people evidently picked up on one of those island nations.]

BadAssKona said...

Hell! That's how I felt, this morning!

WV: "bedneso"
Def: The masculine form of "BedNessie"

Gina Marie said...

Jeremy, you just made me snort coffee through my nose!

How did you know I was referencing Lovey and Mr. Howell? (Did he have a name?)

Really, BAK? Even without the moon and peyote magic? Saweeeeeet!

Jeremy Edwards said...

Mr. Howell is Thurston. And "Lovey," I've just learned through a quick visit to The Straight Dope, has a birth certificate that reads "Eunice."

Of course, the name "Eunice" prompts the refrain, "Are ya sur-prised? Are ya sur-prised?" in a Carol Burnett voice—at least it does in my brain [ current spamword].