M Database Inspector (cheetah)
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|airJuice - 39 Rows|
|14||Boston Marriage Morality||
We were in fact officially married.
I was still busy chasing my green card,
and she will have lost hers if we were to officially tear the papers,
so we didn't, and we were just friends during those days,
for several years as such, after our separation.
Several months back, she called me up to hop over to
Boston to visit her.
Her best friend, and historically a mutual friend,
was coming over from Germany.
The first do-me-wanna-be import, in a long list to follow.
Needless to say, my hormones came over,
and took my body with them.
My wife was busy doing crystals and/with her one year long
boyfriend, a carpenter,
whom she had grabbed on the way out of prison
before he managed to get home.
I am mostly my usual passive aggressive when I reach the place.
The carpenter's brother is also there, and my import
is about to do him, quite clearly.
Not sure what my frustrated hormones did exactly, but it worked.
As the lights dimmed the brother somehow disappeared.
All in European, politeness, without a word said,
my wife and the carpenter go to do in one room,
while me and the import go to sleep in the other.
She states clearly, no doos, and steps naked into the bed.
She is free and open and I am shy and dressed.
She has a vast experience of 400 at age 28,
as she would estimate during the night,
and after she had done me for about an hour,
she knows I couldn't possibly do anything but sleep.
So, I had to do Her for a change,
until the sun started peaking, watching my morals.
My hormones were a bit hungry and
angry with my morality.
It had been eight months sharp,
and even Woody Allen was beginning
to be quite furious with my morality.
When the sun started peaking through the window,
I decide to let her sleep a bit,
by trying to pretend to do the same.
Ani od er, hoshev al ma haya,
al ma achshav, u ma yi hi yeh.
not a wink, just shut eyes for an hour or so,
and the Boston Saturday begins with a
The carpenter takes me for a sun and terrace
talk on a plain cigarette before breakfast:
This is immoral, he says.
I am doing your wife in one room,
while you are doing her best friend in the other.
I was awake all night,
My conscience didn't let me sleep like this.
So did my hormones, was the fearfully silent No Reply.
|9||Yet Another Do Me Wannabe||
We spend the whole night together naked, but never did it.
It was so cool we repeated this Tantric Sexuality exercise
twice more during that period,
with nights graduating into long weekends,
and still, we never did it.
Who would have thought those would be my very first steps
in selfless Tantra training,
with the horrifying effects of the
non-awareness and zero experience combo,
causing so much pain.
So I got scared, and refused the forth meet.
I had already been doing like clockwork,
the only person untouched by the web,
during the previous few years.
The one that was worth the wait.
But not too often anymore during those days.
For several weeks after the third meet,
we had conversed over the phone.
Do me, do me, do me.
No, no, no.
I didn't give up, and then one day she called me up:
I did, she said, so its ok.
I was nearly in tears,
but the age wouldn't let them come out,
and I let it go.
I was just twenty three.
The second lawyer was the first of the Internet round.
She did me at first meet.
She was dead. It only took ten minutes once.
Coming out, I rolled over speechless,
imitating the Last Tango in Paris.
So it was that bad?
I will leave soon.
From Your Bed I Gained a Day and Lost a Bloody Year...
|20||A Local Attack||
The new import is a picture to die for.
It is my first and gentlest encounter with shear insanity.
She is also smart enough to hide it real well.
I have no tools to resist the upcoming attack.
It is my territory, but my body is that of hers.
All the while K. is suddenly jealous again,
for her dazzling beauty and age makes her
a fierce competition rival
over the already conquered territory,
in a pre-declared cease fire.
The virgin is still a virgin, and does have good grounds,
but doesn't stand a chance.
Nitty is meanwhile calling as if giving death progress reports,
but in fact is inviting herself over.
Not only I know I will not survive such a visit,
the Stringless Guitar is watching me with cautious patience.
I'd give an arm to know her thoughts.