15 minute vomit in my journal (no editing don't see the point can't be arsed)

Monday November 22nd 2010

Month of gloom and sludge. Feet cold beneath the desk watching rain slide down window panes. I'm thinking about what we said and how we said it and rage and tears and despair. That's not like us, or is it? What's gone wrong? Or going wrong? The other night (Saturday, the night before you left) you said it was 'over' again because of some insult or other. I'd said you were arrogant or conceited or both. I've said it before and I know it's not true. Oh but you do like the sound of your own voice, as my mother would say. Before you said you loved my glad babble but now it just repeats and drags. Have I run out of things to say? Run out of steam, of juice, of salt? Am I jealous because yours darts and streaks light-footed across the pitch of the green wool blanket that covers both our knees? Jealous because you hog the conversation - wild-boar you. Disappointed that I let you when I too have something to say only I don't think so quickly or that I don't trust my thoughts and turn them over, examining first fallen apples for worms.

Whisky soured stink of despair. I wish you didn't want to die. Remember just that morning you smoked to spite the steep path and we stopped to look at the mute city stacked against the sky? Were you thinking of dieing then while I was trying to figure perspective and trying not to imagine a world without you in it? You bastard. You put that chasm before me and even my long arms can't reach across, except that they can and then I realise I should have been doing that all the while and saved us some of the grief. Warmth and simplicity. Warmth and simplicity. Let's not forget that's all we need for now.

Word Salad Fridgewrit 2.

Strategy over poetry - I find myself elucidating the uselessnesses of rhyme when your pained or painfully bored murmur stirs me to clutch at my copy of Das Kapital and defend the relevance of the class struggle. Exploding with righteous indignation, my glance, like a misfired arrow rebounds from you shining, oblivious eyes. I spurn your consoling arms in my feverish conviction. The sacred vine (clump? urgh!) that produced joy’s grape was planted by the horny brown hands of toil. I slather rabidly and curse the entwined rose whose sickly come-hither fragrance cloys the torpid air and the festooned locks of Apollo’s languid muses, the vicissitudes of who’s whims and fancies, I squeeze to a doughnut-shaped ball of contempt

The rankled moon waxes and farts.

I remember those miscreants gorging themselves on pleasure, delving deep into the simmering pools of lust. I slam my trenchant hooves upon the fallen bouquet, crush and grind the salaciously beautiful petals into the honest sod. You look amused and curious, as if a pristine angel  had just shat on her harp while exposing two pierced breasts. Yet..

I will not abscond no matter your obscurantism. What is salient is our difference which is tantamount to compatibility. My hair might be tantalising, my nature munificent, but I will still inspect that pink species of Rosa. & note the hard day's graft of the worm. You humour and cherish me. I know not why. For in love & affection, I am neither profligate nor ripe.

Word Salad Fridgewrit

Your peace is hard to find though you elucidate the ways of slow fragrant flowers, your murmur like a warm breeze as we clutch our fingers in complicit struggle. All exploded with that arrow shining towards the direction of understanding. I spurn the old fever of patching and shoring tottering castles; nothing sacred there any more. The vine-clump gleams in the sun, above the brown slather of the cess, entwined with a rose that breathes her scent upon the torpid air, festooned with blooms that counter all viccisitudes and squeeze all harm to naught.

The moon, I must remember.

I am allegedly a miscreant: seeking pleasure, delving trenchantly for some bouquet that scents the air with the beautiful grace of a curious angel's breast. Yes, I did abscond, for reasons obscure to many, salient to me, and tantamount to damnation to most. But your hair is a beacon that strengthens me: tantalising, munificient, a pink tropical species I cherish for all its profligacy of nature, and its promise of ripeness.

Dxxx

Panegyrical

On the commute, surrounded by grey-whey-faces, I sit and smile at reminiscences of you.

Your eyes: cool, uncertain, creasing suddenly at the corners in devilment and amusement; melting and rounding as your heart breathes and fills; flickering with sudden irritation, rolling up and sideways.

Your habit of sitting, three-quarter profile, your nape and line of your jaw visible, a single eye darting backwards to gauge my reaction before returning to the distance in front of you. I keep shifting to look at you and you keep turning slightly further away. A circular dance. A spinning-chase.

You are biting the insides of your lips. A mixture of nerves and flexibility, feline, spasming suddenly to scritch and scratch your electric coronet, shaking that violent pink nest of seasnakes, setting them dancing and flying in a temporary frenzy, stilled as swiftly as started. The way your lips part, softly, invitingly, then hungrily. The way you sit up straight when imparting a jewel of recondite information, such as the breeding habits of orang utangs and butterflies, or the number of uses for the common peony among the Laps, or the influence of Hegel on lettuce-growing.

Your ragdoll manner when you fling your limbs to stretch, heedless of colliding and knocking my poor block off. Your pained sense of undeservedness; your joyous glint when you accept you are loved. Your langour, smoking in bed, as circumspection slowly takes precedence over peacefulness, a peace that is lovely to watch even as it slowly ebbs.

Your competence, efficiency, physically you are a marvel to watch. A lithe spring that occasionally tangles itself in its own gleaming coils. Your nakedness, serpentine, eyes glowing, body hard and pliant, tigerish, scented with a hundred musks, a grove of flowers. Your breath is my breath and my lips your lips.

Forgive this clumsy word-painting. Every letter is written with love.

X

A Sudden and Startling Pang of Overwhelming Desire

My god, I want my tongue against yours, against your nipples, grazing your belly, and curled around your clit right now.

I take a deep breath to calm myself, but it shudders with the wrongness of distance.

I pick up a shirt I wore with you and intentionally unwashed, and breathe in your smell.

The teeth of love are sharper than razors.

X

17th Century French Literature

Kate: I really rather fancy reading some obscure 17th century French Literature just now

dckalcock: Mmm me too

Kate: Shame I don't have any. :-/

dckalcock: Can't you pretend you have some?
Nothing like curling up in bed with some good obscure C17th book

Kate: I suppose i could always pull out some Marx and Feuerbach and brush up on my dialectical materialism

dckalcock: Wonderful how the long sentences slowly sink deeply into one's consciousness.

Kate: yes, and prod and tease to a state of upmost excitation.
It really is most satisfying once one has got one's teeth into it

dckalcock: until with an ejaculation of surprise, one gasps the name Feuerbach! Feuerbach! in blissful admiration.

Kate: Oh the bliss of waking in the night to find Feuerbach lain next to my naked flesh. I cannot resist but grasp him and run my fingers along the length of his spine

dckalcock: gently, with a finger-tip flicking through the furl of his pages
hmm pages?
ah yes, the three oiled youths bearing chalices and grapes

Kate: Three! mmmm!
I'll politely decline the grapes

dckalcock: Oh yes, forgot - too spurty

Kate: Indeed - their firm taut flesh exploding a mess of juices and seed against my palette.

dckalcock: While gentle strumming of lutes, and the evening song of the nightingale drifts in at the open casement on the balmy summer breeze, before the ice-cream van blares past.
Bizet forced uncomfortably though the mesh of an overloaded speaker...
... passing away into the distance, leaving sultry images of cigarette girls, heat, and bullfighting.

Kate: Grrr. Why am I feeling so horny today? Are you tugging at that invisible thread again?

dckalcock: I think you get turned on by CAB
I could teasingly tug those threads, let me see... if I tie them to the end of my cock, and clench my prostrate rhythmically...

Kate: Yes - I felt that

dckalcock: What would you like me to be doing to you right now?

Kate: removing my knickers for starters
with your teeth

dckalcock: nipping gently around the edges, before slowly tugging them free, a crafty tongue slipping past the gusset temporarily as a token for what is about to come...
a hard palm pressed against the flatness of your belly, then firmly sliding down to cup your mons as the tricky negotiations of flailing legs, knickers, feet and bumped heads ensues...

Kate: My damp knickers are tossed to the floor. I'm stroking your poor head with one foot.

dckalcock: mmm that feels nice... making me slip into a reverie, dozing off... peaceful... -
before the foot suddenly becomes remarkably insistent, and I turn slightly, and bite the soft part of the instep

Kate: So I stretch out my thigh and raise the other foot up and place it firmly against your ear slowly but firmly lowering your face to my flushed and glistening pussy
(Oh dear - it's not going to turn into one of THOSE afternoons is it?)

dckalcock: Mmmmmm (sorry, can't talk, my mouth is otherwise engaged) - my nostrils flare slightly, breathing your scent, before my lips and tongue explore a succession of orchids, lilies, flowers of every variety, a hot bowl of overpowering sensation
fingers reaching up to interlace with yours

Kate: Each delicate petal yields and spreads, thrusts its sweet and quivering lady-parts against your nectar sipping tongue

dckalcock: swirling and plunging, eventually exhausted with its efforts at tantalising that sweet, devouring cornucopia of bliss, my mouth wanders lazily upwards, past belly, breasts, throat, kisses the line of your jaw, then shares that fragrant nectar with your softly parted lips...

Kate: I gently nudge you onto your back.Hands still entwined with yours, I stretch your arms out against the ravished sheets then trace the line of your neck, your chest with tender lips still moist with pussy-warm dew

dckalcock: I abandon myself, shameless, to your subtle ministration, rolling my head so I can see your cascade of pink snakes caressing my skin.

Kate: My tousled locks coil about your waist and hips as I dip my tongue in and out of you navel. My lips brush softly against the tip of your cock before plunging down to gently nip at your proffered groin

dckalcock: my hips, half-pinioned under your weight, are powerless against writhing in involuntary circles. I reach down and stroke the side of your neck with my fingertips, black crackles of electricity shuddering from my groin to my spine.

Kate: I flash a fiery glance at your startled face then bow to take you inch by inch in my mouth, teasing the end of your reaching cock with the flick of my tongue

dckalcock: my mind goes dark and for a while I lose track of time and space - my whole body, not just my cock feels as if it is being caressed by your mouth

dckalcock: I play the dangerous game of endurance, addicted to the pleasure, just one more, just one more, and one more still, then shift slightly, pulling away, then can't resist one more... but move so that you straddle me, and my hands guiding your hips, and yours on my cock, and our eyes fastened on each others, a strange smile playing on your lips, you plant yourself around me, your heat and wetness like a sudden burn, leaning forwards and glaring like some sightless and fabulous creature, and I gradually rake the tips of my fingers along the length of your back, my hips rising from the bed, and bearing your weight, arched and taut, like a drawn bow.

Kate: Oy - I hadn't finished slurping you (had my next paragraph already typed. Oh well, let's move on...)

dckalcock: (I lie there for a moment, recalling whatever it was you were doing :-) )

Kate: Never mind that. With a sudden shiver the sinews in my thighs tighten and, shuddering gladly I clench you tight then pause for a moment to feel you up to the hilt in my snatch. I sense your pulse as I push myself down, further, harder until I'm finally full of you. I relax my grip, lean forward and tease you out, nether lips still holding the tip of you before smoothly and moistly gliding my way back down.

dckalcock: I use all my strength to lie completely still, rejoicing in you moving above me, giving myself to your rhythm. I can't resist reaching up and stroking your breasts, playfully pinching and tweaking your nipples, gently flicking the rings, feeling your nubs tumesce and darken. I run my hands down your sides, and smooth my palms along the insides of your coiled thighs, then back and out across your flanks and up your spine, across your shoulders, down to your breasts again, a slow manipulation, a desirous journey, feeling out your shape, my cock twitching at the base of each of your thrusts...

Kate: With a gasp I lower my face towards you and kiss your clammy brow. Lips searching out yours, nipples touching, my knees spread further apart as I press against your pelvis and take you further and deeper. Pinning your shoulders against the pillow I whimper as my clit rubs against you with each impetuous thrust. I push my hands down beneath your buttocks, griping each one and forcing you harder inside. My mind spins and swirls and as galaxies implode. You join me in the furious race to the finish as I gasp and mutter, open mouth against you neck

dckalcock: I hold you in silence, listening to your racing heart, buoyed on a spectral breeze, our sweat mingling, blurring the boundaries of skin. My fingertips trace goosebumps on your back.
And with a sudden lurch, you sit up, and suggest liqorice tea and the wickedness of a bed-cigarette, your eyes creasing with amusement.
I listen to the pounding seas in my skull, and try to recall who I am.
I feel slow, somnolent, as if time has sped up without me, before the room shifts back into its four accustomed dimensions. I sit up and take your shoulders, and kiss you gently. There is a gleam in your eye that tells me I won't get off so easily, as I slip out of bed, cast a dressing gown on, and descend to the kettle.
Mmm that was rather pleasant. It doesn't make it easier does it? I'm crossing off the days.

Your Body

Mole-covered, almost painfully-thin. Delicious entirely. I don't think any of these feelings are ever due to aesthetics. Your body is wonderful for me because it is yours. I love every angle, guise, cranny, posture and glance.

You taste heavenly. Your smell is divine. What more can I say? (more, more, quoth the rapt reader) well, very well, more then.

When I walked in through your back door, my second time in Sheffield, and saw you for real and in the flesh, you were a hundred times better than my fading memories. Because you were there, in all six-thousand senses. As lean as a rake, as dark as a new-moon, as humorous as a sparkler, and as nutty as a loon. And you are far better than any of these.

It took all my control not to take that chewing gum out of your mouth and swallow it myself and then kiss you with all the want I had had for you over the couple of weeks before.

As you must have noticed, it isn't just sex. I love watching you as you talk. I am curious about a million aspects of you - and am trying my hardest not to be intrusive too. You don't seem the sort of person who welcomes being picked apart, prodded, and evaluated. That's why I take you as you come. It isn't from lack of wanting to know you better. Just making sure you have your privacy at heart. Your face I could watch (and kiss) for a long long age. You have a beautiful mobile face.

I can see all the expressions of pain when they flit by or sit there, like a cloud that won't get away from the sun. But I just crinkle my eye corners, and wait. Patience really is a virtue.

But I never know exactly what you want. It makes you hard. A challenge. I haven't developed enough knowledge, instinct, about you yet to know what you really want. I'm learning. And so are you. I pray this summer will be the most marvellous learning for the both of us.

Enough. I should sleep. A kiss for both your eyes. A kiss and more for your wise lips. A nip for each nipple. A stroke and a plunge of the tongue for your beautiful puss. And a kiss for your arse, too, lest it feel neglected. I forgot your nostrils, ears, armpits, stomach, flanks, knees, etc. Another day for all of those jewels.

Oh, til tomorrow.

I will say it, though we both know its meaning so early on between us. But I love you. X

Lubricatory Lubriciousness

Tangle: How many times have we fucked - 6,7 - or more? I forgot to make a note.

David: god knows

how many nights have we spent together?

8?

Why do you ask?

Tangle: Oh it doesn't matter, I'll round it off to 8

David: And where does one fuck stop and another begin?

Tangle: I was wondering that too.

and does an unconcluded fuck count?

David: All interesting questions that demand further research. Perhaps we could apply for a grant from a university?

Tangle: Would that involve much practical research?

David: I should think the study should have a firm practical basis.

What's up? Are you feeling horny? Or just statistically minded this afternoon?

Tangle: Both i suppose. i was trying to overcome the latter with the tedium and precision of the latter

meant former first, of course

David: I got the drift.

Damn - now I can't concentrate on this awfully boring c.v. I'm pretending to write.

Can only think of you now.

Which is far more pleasant an occupation for a rainy wednesday afternoon

Tangle: with your CV clenched between my supple thighs?

David: Mmm mmmmn mmmn - gasps for air "-istoric Building Consultant and Stone Conserva-" mmm mmmn mnnnn

Tangle: Ha ha - you will have to prize it from my firm grip!

David: Ooh. I am in the mood for you right now! I should wrench it from you with my teeth, and cast it on the floor.

Oh bloody country to have so many miles in it. Can't you summon up a wormhole in space time?

I can feel you, taste you - but you're maddenly not here.

(ingly)

Tangle: maybe the secret portal resides somewhere in my pussy. if i could just generate sufficient energies from within my 6th Chakra, we might be off and away.

David: I think I found that portal the other day. Go on - clench and focus!

Tangle: I think my 6th chakra needs a prod

David: And mine needs a squeeze. (where exactly is the 6th located in the male?)

Tangle: Principally in the testicles (maybe i shouldn't squeeze too hard).

David: "When the energy in the 6th chakra is excessive, it can cause headaches, hallucinations, nightmares and difficulty in concentrating."

Not too hard.

Oh - we've been getting it all wrong!

We should be talking about the 2nd chakra!

Tangle: I have at least 2 of those 3 symptoms. I need to release some of that energy perhaps?

David: Yes, I should draw your curtains.

Tangle: Oh fuck the 2nd Chakra. That's one of the more boring ones

David: http://www.nothingbutyoga.com/seven-chakras.html

You think so? Apparently we should have been counting 1 for bum, etc

We had the numbers arse-over-tit.

Tangle: Not according to my reference material

David: Anyway, I don't need numbers or labels to know where we're at.

There are probably yogic wars over the correct system.

Tangle: well I'm talking about the orange one - the sacral chakra - just so we're clear

David: swadhisthana

Tangle: yeah that one

David: No wonder I wasn't getting anywhere trying to mount your forehead.

Tangle: Never mind. One slip and you'd have been in my throat.

Oh I should stop being rude and leave you to your CV

David: mmmm

fuck the cv

Tangle: I can try - but from this distance?

David: it's already lying on the floor, shredded and soaked

Sent at 3:03 PM on Wednesday

Tangle: i was just trying to write something for the blog but got carried away by lips and tongues and sweat and all manner of lasciviousness. Now I can't concentrate.

David: and we've only been two nights apart.

Tangle: even so - that's 48 hours of chastity and longing. Feels like 2 months

David: What's it going to be like after a week?

Dreadful.

Feels like 2 years.

Tangle: I will erupt like a volcano and spread lust dust from here to Gloucestershire (or wherever).

David: Ground all the planes with a cloud of simmering desire

hmmm mixing my metaphors there - can clouds simmer?

Tangle: no! Perhaps they could quiver instead?

David: I think they can churn and boil and loom threateningly and orgiastically across the land

I'll be stood underneath, praying for rain

Sent at 3:10 PM on Wednesday

Tangle: Oh hot botheration. I want you here, now so we can make sweet lurve in the afternoon

David: Same here my darling

I want you obscenely wanton on your bed, limbs cast wide

I want to glory in all your treasures again and again

Tangle: Yes, I have been a little bit prudish so far. You will know me less shy one day soon.

David: And the same here.

Tangle: Anyway, i don't know what's come over me today. My lust-cup overfloweth and there's no one to sup at the froth

David: My broken bones are setting, and the scars of the operation are healing. Soon this invalid will be whole again.

You sound like a cappachino

Tangle: Oh well - better a cappachino (long and sweet) than an expresso (brief and bitter)

David: I'll drink you any way you come, my dear

(I wasn't punning there!)

But let it stand.

Tangle: I took it at face value. . i will come which ever way you drink me. No pun there!

David: You have a gorgeous pussy, sleek and fierce - stroke it and it purrs.

Damn, I'm pacing the room, all poised and crackling with electricity.

What a way you have with words.

Tangle: I have my legs crossed double and am squelching in my pants!

Fuck words. I'd rather have my way with you!

Sent at 3:27 PM on Wednesday

David: There's nothing for it. I've just tied a couple of threads of lustful thought to your nipple rings, and I'm very slowly reeling them in, so if you find yourself lurching and staggering down the A621 in the night, you'll know what is happening.

You should take your pants off, if you want my advice.

I can feel your lips against mine if I relax and concentrate.

Tangle: because I'm sending you psychic kisses...

all over..

David: Yes... I suspected as much. And I hope you are tingling from head to toe, because I am pressing myself to you and holding you all over

and there, and there, and there, and there...

Tangle: Hmm, yes - i can feel you sweet breath against my cheek

David: I can feel your teeth in my neck

Tangle: I have just slid my tongue in your navel

David: I am digging my fingers into your left arse cheek

and nibbling your hip and flank

Tangle: Ouch! I shall clasp yours in return

David: my lips and teeth are gentle tugging your sweetest flesh

Tangle: I have just closed my eyes and sighed

David: I'm stroking myself, and stroking your clit with the end of my cock

and hissing with lust

Tangle: and i'm writhing and tearing the sheets with my nails

David: slowly.... pushing... in...

Tangle: sans condom I hope..

David: au naturelle

Tangle: oh I shouldn't have even had that horrid thought

David: buried deep

still... just waiting

Tangle: and i'm gripping hard and arching my back

David: staring into your immaculate eyes

Tangle: my legs are wrapped about you waist

David: my mouth is in yours and yours in mine, and my arms are holding the small of your back

Sent at 3:48 PM on Wednesday

Tangle: I'm clutching at your hair and pressing my hips against yours

David: I feel you twitching deep inside, clenching -

Tangle: I'm teasing you now from your balls to the tip of your cock..

David: you are... you are...

Tangle: grabbing both cheeks and forcing you hard inside

David: I'm groaning in my throat, intoxicated with you filling my senses

Tangle: I'm whispering sweet obscenities in your ear..

David: I'm drinking the sweat from your throat and thrusting

your words are maddening me, driving me past all pitch of reason

Tangle: sorry - what's the weather like over there?

No - please don't stop. Don't stop!

David: turned sultry all of a sudden!

Tangle: I've slapped your buttock and thrust my fingers into the cleft

David: I'm holding still, pushing back against your touch, waiting for you

Tangle: one finger stroking and teasing your arsehole

David: I've slipped my thumb down, and rubbing it gently up the sides of your clit

Sent at 4:03 PM on Wednesday

Tangle: probing further, deeper - you relax to let me in

David: I feel you pressing against my prostrate - I tighten on your finger, impaled

and arch my neck to take your nipple between my teeth

as a gasp of pleasure hisses from me

Sent at 4:08 PM on Wednesday

Tangle: Searching your base-chakra, sliding my finger into your warm, moist clench

David: I feel you urge me, onwards, to a canter, your neck sinews stretched

Sent at 4:12 PM on Wednesday

Tangle: My pussy contracts and gives as you frantically plunge in and out

David: I feel you spasm

Tangle: I scrunch my eyes and attempt to defer the inevitable

David: But impossible - the time is come - you face becomes angelic, diabolic, insensate

I release and am subsumed in your oceans -

thunderstorms of sense

a chaos of love

Sent at 4:16 PM on Wednesday

Tangle: I know not where and who I am. No edges. No boundaries.So fluid have we become

David: an orgasmic gestalt, fusion of two like lusts and minds and hearts - a single maelstrom revolving around a single calm spot of timelessness

male female female male you me me you us

us

Tangle: Bugger. Child has come in just at this divinely critical moment. But don't stop. We'll just have to give her some sweets and close the door

David: :-)

Tangle: Or we could pause for choco tea and a fag. That was lovely by the way. I'm flushed from head to toe

David: choco sounds marvellous.

I am somewhat more than flushed...

Tangle: flushed and quivering in the lust soaked sheets

David: Pretty much!

I must reek of lust - my landlady has just got back!

off to fetch a choco teabag...

Tangle: me too, if i can stand up

David: I'll help - here's a hand

Sent at 4:26 PM on Wednesday

Tangle: Stuff it. I think I'm going to buy some wine tonight. It's been 4 days. I've rarely made it past 5.

You should shove your CV up your arse and join me. We can lick chianti from out of one another's navels all evening.

Sent at 4:31 PM on Wednesday

David: Mmmm!

I'm afraid I have to confess my thoughts raced away to a conclusion a little after four o'clock this afternoon - thanks for that X - but I feel recuperated already.

Damn, wish I really could lick chianti out of your navel tonight.

Tangle: happy to be of assistance. Renew your stamina for I my lust isn't slaked yet..!

David: O Queen Insatiable!

Tangle: there shouldn't be an 'I' there

yes. I'm a wanton glutton

David: it's that wormhole - there is an infinite universe of lust to be filled behind it

Tangle: I'll have a poke around later and see if i can't find a key

David: I shall send you one in the post if you don't strike lucky

Tangle: right, off to the shop with a smutty smile on my face

Sent at 4:43 PM on Wednesday

David: X