Am I too heavy for you?

Am I too heavy for you? You smile. Your arm, like a big kitchen spoon is spooning by breast. You are here and serious, I know, and my nipples somehow still here hope that you will stay. You will stay until I fit in your shoes, until they are the right size.


Until you take the spoon and you measure the oil. You measure the syrup, one little spoon and you hold the spoon with your fingers, so strong and confident fingers and I can see your veins. You measure my piss, one two little spoons and you give it to me. It is my medicine for the night. My antibiotics. My cure. For being in lust with you.


I say ‘Shallow it’. I watch you drinking it, one spoon two spoons. Well done my girl. I still have some piss left though and I say ‘Take off your top and kneel’. I can see your breast. Yes, the one I was spooning before with my hand. Warm and soft. And your nipples. Hard.


And now you stay there looking at me with anticipation. I let my piss flow. And it hits you on your neck. And it flows down on your breast. Yes, your warm and soft breast. And then down on to your thighs and knees.


I open my knee. I open my knee wide open. I open my knee and my thigh. I want to fit in your boxes, your shoe boxes, your wonderful tidy play boxes. And if I fit, that will be my prize. I take the mop. I open my knee and your elbow. I open your glans and I insert the mop. I have sterilised it before, not to worry. It goes in smoothly like you are. And I eat the other side of the mop, slowly. Now, I have you inside me, you and the mop and the glans of your penis. Now, I have a penis and a glans. I look at you, again and again. You are different now.


You go away. I do not want you to go away but you do. This is not a choice. It is something you oblige me to. I take one breast at a time. I open my nipples and I spoon feed them. I put inside the pasta you left during lunch, the yoghurt you never had. I put it inside my nipples, in reverse, as if I was breast feeding, in reverse. The skin is tight, but they are welcoming. And I think of you. Touching my insides in the dark, not needing a map, a torch or a chart.


I was too happy brave and down my pants then stop to stop to feel the scream what scream what cream what ice-cream what a dream what a scene, what a cock, what a scene, what a mob, what a dream, what a dream, what a cock, what a scene.



Lindo & Linda

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