Curtains pushed aside,

silver can be seen

blending with midnight.

Changes in the sky

quietly announce

a new beginning.

When I share my heart,

will it stop beating

or become stronger?

A loud wet popping sound released from Prince Huey’s mouth as he got up from Violet. She watched, smiling as he giggled wickedly, biting and messily sucking on her boobs. He growled in naughty desire

Then, Huey massaged essential rose oil into Violet. The lovers intimately caressed each other with the oil, listening to their jazz playlist.

“I wanna try something new” Huey whispered, and he instructed Violet to turn around, propped up on some pillows.

Huey kissed Violet’s butt, sucking, nibbling, and licking each cheek. Spreading, he let a trail of his saliva run down, lubricating her for the toy. Then it was off to some naughty holiday fun with a candy cane shaped vibrator.

Violet was over the moon, her prince was doing such a great job. It was definitely not a silent night!

“Ooh!! Huey! Fuuuck. Oh yeah!”

“Yeah? Are you going to cum for me Vi?

And she did. Then, it was multiple rounds, until finally…

Violet was sprawled out on Prince Huey.

“Wow baby”

They kissed. “My thoughts exactly” Prince Huey agreed. They rested like this for a while. He softly kissed on her shoulder a few more times, and then he pointed to the window. “Oh look baby, it’s snowing!”

“How beautiful” Violet gazed at all the paper like snowflakes falling

“There’s nothing better than watching the magic of the holiday season with someone you love.” said Huey

They watched in silence for a little while

“Some hot chocolate would be perfect right about now” Huey continued

“Agreed”

“And rule number 25 in the Junior Woodchucks guidebook says for you to make it, naked.” Huey grinned

Violet giggled as Prince Huey playfully nibbled her ear.

Huey watched Violet make rich hot chocolate, melting a chocolate bar into milk on the stove.

A rich hot chocolate was perfect for Prince Huey and Violet’s rich sex life!

“I love dating you baby” Prince Huey

told his love, while they enjoyed their cups of hot cocoa

“I love dating you too!”

(Dewey Duck and my oc Jasmine)

Tonight, Jasmine and Dewey wrote new sexual fantasies for each other.

Her palms flat on his chest, Jasmine rides Prince Dewey. The pace is slow for a while, then husband and wife build up to a faster speed.

Sex. Oh, how much he loved and craved it with her. Dewey and Jasmine had been intimate, and frequently.

Prince Dewey gently tickles Jasmine’s boobs with a feather duster.

“Ooh”

“Yeah? Is that soft?”

Jasmine nods

“After a few more feather strokes, his highness sucks her nipples, such divine pleasure.

“Oh, right there baby” Jasmine whispers

“Good girl” Dewey continues to suck and rub them a little while longer

“I love seeing all of you Jazzy. Completely butt naked, your body is from heaven, I just know it” Dewey whispers dirty romantic talk, as he always did to make sure Jasmine had the best, most comfortable penetration experience ever.

(After sex finishes)

Prince Dewey took a cherry from the wooden bowl on their nightstand, dipped it in chocolate, and fed Jasmine.

“Mmm” she moaned, indulging in the sweetness of the chocolate covered fruit. She also fed her Prince the same.

Prince Dewey naughtily bit down on the stem, then bit the cherry off and ate it suggestively.

Jasmine smiled, and their beaks met for another kiss

“Making love by a roaring fire,” Jasmine began, brushing her fingers along Dewey’s bare shoulder,

“Priceless” Dewey smiled, his eyes glazed over with exhaustion yet contentment

When I was young, and dating

I would Never take a date to

a movie but rather stroll

through the art institute

just to see what would catch

their eye or hear their thoughts

on a favorite piece of art

And ponder on their answers

Do they think like me?

If they don’t, can we get along

and discuss what we like about

the things that touch us

or inspire us or simply

what we call art…

When I was young, and dating

I would Never take a date to

places were we couldn’t talk but

rather stroll through the park

where we could talk about

things like hopes and dreams

or pains and sorrows…

And wonder if we have it in

us, to listen to one another

and hear the things that we

need, to help us grow and

simply lend a shoulder to

understand the things in our

lives that simply need caring

When I was young, and dating

I would be corny and sometimes

break into song, and sing a duet

simply because it was in my heart

and I would wait…and listen…

to see if I was with someone who

could pick up the other side of the duet…

and answer me in or out of tune

and be with me, and share time

with me in when life is low

or filled with happiness

and understand that I can be

just a nerd, with a song in

his heart, that simply needs…

I bet you smile when you send those…

Those little pieces of your whimsy

in short bursts of carefully chosen

words…

That captures the moment to

show how clever you really

are, and I bet as you read this,

you’ll smile, too

And as the night goes on

as we quickly reply

back and forth in our

typing banter

The sleep finds us as

we wind down and the

furious exchange

of quick wit

falls into the

last good nights

with hopeful thoughts

and silent smiles

as we end our

echange of clever

whimsy

I want to hold you close

and feel your breath

on my face as we

slow dance and

look into your

beautiful brown eyes

I want to touch

your face and feel

you breathe deeply

as I taste your lips

and tremble from

this long awaited kiss

As it ends, I pull back

and say, I hope

you liked that

and you surprise me

by touching my face

and kiss me back

And as this kiss ends,

we just hold each other

and you pull back

and ask…well?

and I simply say

I don’t want to ruin

this moment

And I touch your

hair and look in your

eyes and let the

words of a kiss

speak my response

aa I fall into your lips

Hanahaki did not feel like going to school. She had a weight in her chest and found it hard to breathe. But "weight" was probably the wrong word, she wrote in her diary, because there was nothing there.

Nothing.

For three months she had spent every free minute thinking of Thor Soh. The first time she saw him she knew she had seen nothing more beautiful than he. When he spoke his voice was the song of the nightingale that led her to the land of dreams and ensured she would only have sweet ones. In the hallway once she passed and "accidentally" brushed his hand; a shock shot through her body and she felt weak-kneed. A boy that hard, yet his skin was so tender and warm...

"What do you want with him?" she wrote in her diary. They were the words of Grace, her best friend. "He's an a-hole. The longest word he ever used had two syllables and it was "f-cker."

But Hanahaki was long gone. She had barely heard Grace and considered it a miracle she remembered the words long enough to put them in her journal.

Every breath was taken with him on her mind. Every time she inhaled through her nose it was in the hope she would catch his scent, which she had now memorized. It was the scent of a white carnation.

Her head turned and she saw the carnations in the vase on her window sill. They hung their heads, and the white in their petals had faded to yellow.

Her mother came in.

"Oh," she said, startled. "You don't look well! Do you feel all right?"

She shook her head.

Her mother worked at an office downtown and Hanahaki barely saw her.

Suddenly, the weight in her chest, or what ever it was, tightened. She winced. Something was happening and she was afraid.

"Should I stay home...?"

"Just...go!" she grunted, doubled over.

Alone, she played scenes in her mind starring her and Thor. Smiling. Laughing. Dancing. Kissing.

The pain abated and she fell asleep, dreaming of guess who? Only this time she relived every time over the last 3 months that he had ignored her, as well as the two times he had looked at her most likely disgusted. Her mind was especially talented at storing these images; they replayed over and over. The pain in her chest returned. She awoke, and the next time she exhaled her lungs ejected something solid. She brought her hand to her mouth and pulled out the petal of a white carnation.

She was so scared she fell out of bed. Somehow she got a hold of her phone and called Grace. When her friend answered, however, the only thing Hanahaki could do was cough.

"Hana?" Grace asked.

Then she hung up.

She felt weak and did not know if she could stand. Her eyes fell and she saw her arms. They had never been so pale.

The only thing in her mind was Thor So. He would not leave and he would not come. He was trapped in her mind, without form, without a body, and would haunt her every waking moment. All of her thoughts and desires were directed towards Thor. The strands of hair on her head stood electrically, like cobras to flute music, and she commanded them to bring him to her.

Her hair stretched and pulled and leaned until Hanahaki could feel it growing. As it dangled over her face she watched it grow. It stretched ever downwards, past her backside, her thighs, her knees...

She coughed again for three minutes. She almost fainted again and would have thrown up if not for the fact that she hadn't eaten for two days.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she watched her veins and arteries appear through her now transparent skin. She heaved and coughed mightily, and her hands caught a bushel of white carnations.

"What the.."

Has it been two days or three since I ate? she wondered. I wonder what Thor is eating now?

Gasping and wheezing, she turned over and tried to get to her feet. She knew she had to eat something. Everything spun. Her will was lacking; she had only thoughts for Thor and since she could not ingest him it was hard to want anything else.

Hanahaki managed to make it to the top of the stairwell before she stumbled over her yearning locks; she swooned. She felt so light! She giggled, wafting to the floor below like a feather.

Her head hit the marble floor like a watermelon.

***

At her funeral the casket was sent to its earthly home with a bouquet of carnations adorning it-her favorite.

Listen now gentle reader and I will tell you of a dream of lust, ecstasy and love.

In the dark wee hours of the morning, I crept into her bed chamber.

She lay there under the linen sheets, in her natural state undisturbed.

I crept closer, she softly stirred and let out a a gentle sigh.

I looked upon her lying there sleeping, her face looked as that of a cherub, dreaming in Narcissus’s garden.

Ever so gently I draw back the crisp white linen exposing her bodice to the cool night air.

Her body quivers gently in the pale moon light.

I lay next to her, gently touching her back running my fingers down her spine.

Splaying my hands across the warm soft mounds of her buttocks.

Wantonly she moans as my hands glide gently on to the back and then to her inner thigh.

I feel the petal of her tulip ripe with dew brush ever so slightly against the back of my hand.

The pestle dank with her sweet nectar.

My golden rod, triumphantly blossomed, as I remove my bed clothing, and thrust my self into her succulent flower.

I feel her body go rigid and then relax, as she starts to move and moan and sing in harmony with the rhythm of our bodies.

I grab her hair and pull her head back, kissing and biting the nape of her neck. Sliding my other hand betwixt her and the bed linen to feel her soft warm bosom, her nipples hard and erect, a button of flesh.

Our bodies moving faster, the salty sweet smell of sweat and the flowing juices of sweet erotic motion. The emotion building as her body begins to tremble and convulse, with every thrust, kiss, bite and gentle touch to her body.

Our bodies crescendo into a swan song of harmony and rhythm. Her siren song piercing my heart and soul at the height of ecstasy, the sweet release of love, and the warmth of the place between waking and dreaming.

We drift off into the dark reaches of he night, with our bodies close together in the after glow of sweet erotic motion and ecstasy. Dreaming of the sweet release of love, and the warmth of the place between waking and dreaming.

David ,Casabonne © 12.2.2008 all rights reserved

Accessive strength lifts her to the bed.

Clammy hands rub her face and head.

Academics in sheets is what will take place.

Dominating lust and affection they chase.

Everlasting peace and relaxation in demand.

Mimicks and whispers from the middle of her hand.

Inside a place where no one will come.

Caressing and promising that she is the only one.

Settling down is right to end a peaceful night.

Off comes the parka,

Flopped abruptly on the bed,

Representing idle warmth,

Conversation, passing glances.

Then you roll off both your socks,

A little damp with dread,

That pair of terrifying thoughts;

Loathing, Obsession,

Sticky with the demise of innocence.

Then off with your t-shirt,

Darkened exertion

Still lingering at the neck and pits.

Next you unzip your bottoms,

which drop embarrassingly to the philosophical tiles.

Finally you slip off your undergarments;

(The pain,

The love.)

And as you relax,

In the tea-tree mint suds of soliloquy,

You’re left only with the vital question:

To be,

Or not to be?