Thursday, February 27, 2014


A:  I'm dry.  (A woe-be-gone look settled upon her morning tired face)
Z:  Far too much info girl.  (The words startled him enough you'd thought he had to shiver, arm's hair on end as if he had a static attach, but it was that more stunned-faced-why-are-you-telling-me-this look)
A:  I am.  (Her insistent words held surprise and defiance as she noted his strange, complex expression)
Z:  Take care of that without ever sharing with me. 
A:  (Mind light bulb blinked into full wattage)  No...noooooo!  You got me wrong.  I need some lust to draw from.
Z:  Again, fair too much info.
A:  Get your mind out of my panties.  My ideas have dried up.  Gone.  Vanished.  Desert dry.  An idea cloud not in sight.  Not my... never mind.
Z:  Oh, said the pigeon as he soiled the statue.  (Then with a smirk)  So, that's what you're calling it...a never mind.
A:  What?
Z:  You need for me to juice you up?  (Crooked grin, in full effect, split his beard)  I can juice.  They call me the Juicer.  Faster than a loco mojo.  Stronger than a speeding bullet. ( He winked)  Able to leap tall gals in a single bound.  Soooo?
A:  Yes.  Give me some juice.  In the figurative, I repeat very, very figurative way... ok?
Z:  You need me to lube your money maker?  ( He rubbed his hands together as if warming them)
A:  Ok!  (She huffed the word out)
Z:  You want me to put my key in and start your engine.  (He stood and stretched)  Varoom-vroom!  Gentleman... start your engines.  I'm ready to jump into your cockpit... and drive you wild and crazy.
A:  Enough of the innate metaphors.  Give me some writing ideas.
Z:  Oh... that's what you wanted... what a way to spoil a guy's day.
A:  You can be a real pain in the arse.
Z:  I thought we were talking about the other place... but if...
A: Hear me!  Enough!  Work!  Now!  Ok?  Now!
Z:  (He thought a moment and looked at her with querying eyes, considered, wrote a note and slipped it across the desk... a note she immediately balled up and tossed at him... they sat in silence for a few minutes, Zi with a shit eating grin and Ang with that rag-eyed stare)  Ok, think of a character like the one in IT MAY BE LOVE typing away to his wanna-be paramour.  (He wrote as she read)  In the words of Elvis, “Love me tender, love sweet, never let me go.”… I add ‘be my splendor, be my treat, forever blow and blow’… one more fantasy… you blindfolded… tied to a chair… my cock put into your mouth… over and over… I cum not down your throat though I’d love to do so… but I upon you face… why… because I can… I remove your clothes… place a dildo in that special place… left there… nipples bit… repeatedly… minutes later… my cock is put back into your mouth… I cum once again… upon your face… then silence fills the room… ten minutes… twenty… thirty… you dripping… gooey… I eventually remove your blindfold… shower with you… we neck beneath the water… dry… and crawling into bed… you notice there on the table… my digital camera… and wonder.  (He does the eyebrow lift) You juicy yet said the Juicinator to the desert patch?
A:  It is raw.  Primal.  A little crude.  (She thought... Does he ever stop teasing… never… why?  She shakes her head)
Z:  So my Partner du Pen needs some more before-she-can-write-play.  (Zi pounds on the keyboard like a man on a hot mission continuing the character's sensual rant)  She is beautiful… and I want beautiful in my life… and if she is there I want her happy to be so… Valentine’s Day is so nice… it makes it easy to be nice.  Had I made you damp?  Come-on check!  (He sniggered like a fourth-grader might)
A:  Ziiii, more me! 
Z:  You wrote, and I shall paraphrase “...tell me what it is that you crave...”  I will over and over… I crave the never-ending blow-job… I crave a cunt that wants… I crave tits that are willing… I crave a lady in the parlor and whore in the bedroom… I crave an ass that wants… I crave a babe who wants to deep swallow my cock and tongue my balls at the same time… I crave a lady who wants to discover every sexual opportunity that draws us… I crave her… naked… willing… wanting… forever.  Moist?
A:  Moistish!
Z:  Good... yea me!  (He's in the zone, tapping keys out in a prose kind of titillating song) So I can’t piss on you… shit… and I wanted to do so… not… but can I demand that you masturbate… until your eyes scream… I can’t cream anymore… can I insist that you swallow so deep and that you try harder than hard to reach your tongue to the back of my balls… can I shove you down and take my pleasure… can I slap your ass each time you fail to lust like the wild animal I want you to be… questions?  Huh?
A:  Icky to the square of creepy!  You went over a line.
Z:  Damn... I do that.  (He takes a few long breaths, as if cleansing out his thoughts... puts up the sport's time-out signal)  The afore was a dance with possibilities… real… maybe… maybe not… would you like to dance… might I lead… thank you.  Damp or soggy?
A:  I got some ideas.  Thank you for being my moisturizer.  (She smiled a crooked smile)
Z:  Glad I could get you wet. (He offered that half-lidded cocky look of triumph)
A:  Golden Showers and Scatophilia, ie, Coprophilia is just a little out of my comfort zone.
Z:  So the rest was comfortable in you erogenous zone?  Thanks for letting me in there.
A:  (She did the head shake of look-what-I-have-to-deal-with)  Ok Slick... let's write.

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