M Database Inspector (cheetah)
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|airJuice - 39 Rows|
One day I was called up by my wife to hop over to
Boston for the weekend.
At a place of a mutual friend,
I fell in love with a neighbor,
just for an afternoon.
We did the non-doing thing,
in a rare I-wasn't-the-one-stepping-on-the-breaks event.
She was American. The only American.
I should have known by then my place is in Israel.
I wasn't really ready to listen to my hormones at the time.
Two days later, on the phone from New York,
She Shot Me Down.
The bank account seems to be overflowing
with bodies anyway.
Just to be safe, I called up the automatic secretary
for a single night of several doos.
|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.
|15||The Virginal Objectivist||
Not to rush or anything,
right after coming back from Boston
to a straight dive into the automatic secretary.
Just for the parallelism, I also met with the virgin.
She was twenty seven or so at the time.
I had known her for seven years by then.
Being that I owed her from the party she had thrown
just for this, we started non-doing the naked thing.
I was training her for her first do,
and only did her four years later,
after she was safely open.
I'll get back to that then.
|16||The Web Gets Messier||
The K. thing was happening during the same time.
While K. was busy scouting doos in New York,
laying out the stories as she was doing me,
I was also non-doing the Objectivist,
and was laying out the stories to K.
One day K. begged me to just do the child,
of pity, and be done with it.
It didn't happen anywhere near that timeframe.
I was not about to obey, except to my own hormones.
And those were already quite opinionated.