Journal Entries
46
Posted Apr 25, 2001
When you held my head between your breasts
and leaned forward to kiss me,
your red-painted lips moistened,
to caress with your tongue,
to rake tender skin with your teeth,
I wanted with my head to produce
in you pure pleasure,
and when I sought your lips
to let my head find its own way,
I saw you barely smiling in the faint light,
but then your lips parted
and you sighed as you drew me closer,
and there was a shower of meteorites
fiery against the dark night sky.
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Latest reply: Apr 25, 2001
Disappearance
Posted Apr 25, 2001
Journal entry No. 46 disappeared about 40 hours ago.
No Pending Moderation notice.
No Failed Moderation notice.
No e-mail explanation.
Oh, well, I guess those who write the rules
don't necessarily have to do what they said they would.
Ho-hum.
What's new in Westminster?
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Latest reply: Apr 25, 2001
46
Posted Apr 24, 2001
When you held my head between your breasts
and pulled it forward,
kissing it with yur red-painted lips
opened and moistened,
caressing it with your textured tongue,
raking its tenderest skin with your teeth,
I promised myself I would let my head
produce in you the pleasure my hands could not,
and when I turned away from your breasts and lips
to let it find its own way,
I saw you barely smiling in the faint light,
but then your lips parted and you sighed
as your hands on my shoulders drew me closer,
and with the sigh there was moaning and howling
as my head, home at last, flashed a shower of meteors.
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Latest reply: Apr 24, 2001
47
Posted Apr 23, 2001
You thought your warmth
would soothe my head,
throbbing as it had for half the night,
until you drew it closer,
clasped it in your embrace,
enfolded it within yourself,
massaged it without relenting,
front and back,
top and sides,
with a rhythm born deep inside you,
until finally its own calm came,
as after a storm which has brought
a flood that overfills every hollow,
and I slept again, peacefully.
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Latest reply: Apr 23, 2001
45
Posted Apr 23, 2001
It was your hand touching me
(springing me awake
in the middle of the night,
urging me to enter again into your mystery,
to rediscover buried there,
deep, beyond my reach,
the light of your white heat)
that recreated me a grunting
devotee worshiping at the holy mount,
like Moses prodding and probing
to open a crystal fountain whose radiance
dims, then disappears, the stars.
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Latest reply: Apr 23, 2001
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