Thunderstruck

[HotKittySpank]

serenade

tonight i am your senora with my ruffle skirt sweeping the floor.
you pull my dark hair off my back and around one bare shoulder,
kiss the nape of my neck, in bold snippets of your sweet serenade.

your breath makes the notes shiver down the frets of my spine
while your fingers creep lower to cup the curves of my hollow
aching to sing as your bowed finger slides sure across my strings.

but there are dishes to be done and loads of friends to tend to
with our dinner party not yet over this dessert comes too soon.
i laugh you off with a toss of my hair, sure to drive you insane,

later mariachi man, later tonight once all the children are tucked
and your friends have gone home with their own darling wives,
and the lights have gone out, come into my concert hall and sing
your love song, play me as your one-man band late into the night.


...

 

[My Erotic Trail]

so - thanks again. yeah, it it kind of doesn't end the way you think it will, huh. not too sure about the end, kind of morbid but that was the feeling that day.

btw-i like your little cowboy picture. he's cute.
rootin-tootin! ; ) --j

ahhh, the cowboy
for the literotica poetry gunfight challenge
yep, it is a lot of fun
and a hard challenge but I drew the pic
for the shoot out

 

[HotKittySpank]

ahhh, the cowboy
for the literotica poetry gunfight challenge
yep, it is a lot of fun
and a hard challenge but I drew the pic
for the shoot out

i will have to check out that thread - sounds interesting. i've had my head in the sand for a while now(picture sheepish grin here). i know i need to get out of my thread (little hole i've dug for myself) - it will be coming soon hopefully - i did promise i would come back to play eventually didn't i?

hey, so is that you then now on your avitar?

btw -thinking about bellydancing instead of karate. (picture HUGE grin here) -could be beneficial to more than just me. besides, the outfits are way 'cuter' and those 'gi' things ya'll wear are always so stiff and scratchy. : ) tee hee

--j

 

[HotKittySpank]

gear grinder

that day the laced leather wheel spun in my hand, it’s hard to remember the sound of grinding gears but i know i made them. originally mom hired a man to teach me the ins and outs of driving before my big exam, at fifteen he had me out on a four-lane road in her Datsun B210, grinding those gears, him singing silly made up songs filled with rules i would need to know. i was pissed because he kept on whacking the back of my chair telling me someday my kids would do this and i would need to stay focused. to him i was just another mommie waiting to be tapped. he sang and whacked and laughed until we came to a hill. i stopped at the red light while cars closed up behind and i panicked, i knew i would hit them as i rolled backward to shift, inevitably grinding the gears as the car lurched into first. big tears started to roll down my cheeks, i felt like such an idiot, hands sweating on the wheel while he stupidly sang on as if blissfully unaware, then he grabbed the emergency brake.

ease it out slow, and then up the hill.

i did as instructed, while he never stopped singing and up we rolled away from the damage i was sure i would inflict. needless to say, we made it home in one piece and i swore under my breath as my mother came out with her check. i knew i would never drive stick. that’s when dad finally stepped in. on his Saturday visit he took me out in his 1952 MGTD, his minor midlife crisis, top down, he wound down the hill, out of his neighborhood and into the industrial park with its acres of asphalt. pulling in slow, he expertly steered around the gate and into a freight-loading zone now empty of trucks. he turned the car off, popped the door and hopped out, tossed me the key and took his Frisbee from the mock of a trunk then walked over to the edge of the lot.

go on start it up.

my hands gripped the laced leather of the wheel, felt it give just a little as i squeezed searching for the vague memory of holes that i hoped would be there, like the ones in the Midget he had when i was young, my fingers could slip right through them and pretend, but not now, now i was fifteen and this was all too real. dad’s Frisbee took to the air arcing above me then slid right back into his waiting hand, he was the master of air, bending it to his will whether on water or dry land, but i was scared, what if i wrecked the car, what if i did something wrong, what if

go on now, start it up.

i turned the key in the ignition, felt the rumble under my hands as the Frisbee swirled above me once again, i let out the clutch and with a shuddering lurch the car jerked forward then ground to a halt.

again,

he called from the edge sending the disk to whirl over my head, so again i made the car shudder and lurch to a stop.

again, now ease it out slow.

finally i made it with just enough gas to get it to move, i was off across the asphalt making a loop while dad kept spinning the wind. i learned the feel of the engine, learned to anticipate the need to shift, how to ease the clutch in and out, the feel of tires clipping along asphalt until he yelled,

stop! now do it again.

and so again and again i learned to start and to stop and to pop in the clutch, how to ease it out slow, how to shift every gear as i looped round the lot while the Frisbee swirled in its arc above and flew back with ease to his patient hand until he said,

enough, now take me home.

so i drove the whole way with big smiles swirling wildly right across my face.



...?????? not sure about this thing especially the last line - seems forced. actually this isn't done at all is it - will think on it some more and repost another time.

...

 

[HotKittySpank]

Brazilian Girls

i recognize you brazilian girl,
letting it all hang out on stage
from behind a tulle veil and lace.

pussy, pussy, pussy

as your boys pass a fatty around the stage,
the short, bull dykes next to me French their way,
smoke drifts across in my haze.
aren’t we all Brazilian girls?
makes me wish i knew then what i know now.

pussy, pussy, pussy

inept frat boys crowd around the gyrating girls
by the front rail in failed attempt at romance
while i begin to catch the sway.
but i’m not here to join the fray, i’m here to watch
the light play across your crystal body suit,
become mesmerized by your fragile voice belting out.

pussy, pussy, pussy

the cocktail waitress catches my glassy eyes,
we both mouth the words and smile
my eye drawn to the flashing red light pinned to her pelvis
wanders up her form to hang for a moment
on the green penlight in her tip jar filled with glowing bills.

pussy, pussy, pussy

another fat one goes round the boys down the line,
their eyes glued to my behind. i slow the dance and pull
my man’s hands around my waist, press him into place.

pussy, pussy, pussy


...

 

[HotKittySpank]

whatever startles starlings did its work
as a black cloud of a thousand wings shook loose
from the tension wires between the two radio towers.
it circled and
................swooped,
................before setting back
to disappear
in a seamless line with the wires,
....................................as if it were never there.



...

 

[HotKittySpank]

some news.

the last time we were here, all those years ago,
the place looked the same.

it was my first tour of the Tenderloin
and i felt like a kid in a broke down candy store,
all the blinking lights and mumbling bums,
everything a shadow of its former self.

you gripped my hand too tight
after we locked up the car and met your friends
to walk as a group to the Warfield.

you were so nervous taking me out in this part of town.

while you dealt with the tickets,
i looked across the street
to the rundown hotel building with its rates by the week.
it had an emergency exit sign lit up in the middle of every floor,
a red line that visually split the building in half
over each rickety fire escape.

yep, its still there too.

the club was caked in soot from years of abuse,
never dusted or cleaned,
sticky, beer stained carpet sucked at my feet.

tonight i feel the familiar pull at my boots.

its all still the same,
XXX, girls, girls, girls, posters of past greats.

back then
INXS was playing the last show of their American tour
and you wanted to relive the glory days of the 80’s
when you had long hair and Michael Hutchence was your god.

some of your friends even followed them across Europe
like lovesick groupies in their final hurrah
before they shaved their heads and took jobs at banks and car lots.

i could see the appeal right away,
he was sex wrapped in black leather pants,

a little worn around the edges maybe,
but i imagined he was probably pretty close to the same.

he was a working man.

the show was amazing and i knew all the songs,
especially the one from the Bob Dylan knock off video
with its soulful sax solo.

Hutchence ruled the stage.
he even climbed the tower of speakers to lean out over the audience.
we all squealed like girls lost in our first crush
while he shook his stuff,

just the way the up and coming glamour girl on stage is doing now;

after all,
sex sells.

i remember his dull eyes scanned the small and loyal throng,
i imagined he was remembering the old days
when he could sell out stadiums
and bang coked up starlets backstage before the gig.

he looked like a man who wondered what went wrong,
how did he climb the ladder and slip down so many rungs.

your friend, ‘peppermint patty’
waited out back after the show to grab a quick photo.
she emailed it around the next day,
looking pretty in her plaid skirt and Doc Martens,
her face was all lit up next to his thin, gloomy one.

it was the last photo he gave before climbing in a car
to catch the next flight home.

we all laughed.

good for her,
a diehard fan if ever there were.

a week later we heard he was found hung by a noose made from his belt
somewhere in a Sidney hotel room.
it was speculated that he died from autoerotic asphyxiation,
but we’ll never know for sure.


...

 

[HotKittySpank]

? sorry, couldn't get all the bells and whistles working for some reason. will try later.

 

[My Erotic Trail]

? sorry, couldn't get all the bells and whistles working for some reason. will try later.

bells and whistles <grin (~_*)
I am enjoying your collection of writes.

 

[HotKittySpank]

bells and whistles <grin (~_*)
I am enjoying your collection of writes.

hey dearie! thank you for your note. it makes me happy to know that not only is someone reading, but more importantly that they actually like what i write.

**whew** been busy with another huge project but i have written a few things. see what you think.

: )

...

 

[HotKittySpank]

silence, a sort of stifling denial, having
corked up the bottle; a type of implosion
which causes fluidity to fester and boil.

between black and white
so many shades are drawn into the mire
of this lifelong diminishment,
too afraid to be seen,
too afraid to be,
too afraid.

pausing for a breath
before uncorking the putrid scent and
setting these dark thoughts loose,
looms a painful moment of uncertainty.

the breadth of knowledge rings,
...........................what will be will be
........despite feeble and failed attempts
........to quash memories.....it must be,
........it must, for sanities sake, go free.

for only light can air out the smell,
.............only then can one truly breath.


...

 

[HotKittySpank]

parting belles

hand in hand, we stole away during Sunday service
to find that darkened sanctuary and share our secrets
in free communion between young girls. we stifled giggles,
heads bowed in reverence until our freckled faces nearly met.

oh Angelina, Angelina
we never heard the stealth approach of those judgmental shoes,
we never saw her angry shadow in the doorway as it loomed.

we were too caught up in the worship of each other,
our fingers mingled in the tangles of novice courtship.
your blue sky eyes held mine enamored, though we never
sampled the redemption savored in our first kiss.


...

 

[HotKittySpank]

on Fall days such as this, with nostalgia hung heavily in the air,
i search out the tobacconist to peruse his glass jars all lined up. my fingers skim
the cool surfaces, lifting each one in turn. i feel the weight of those domed lids
and flip them over to sample their bouquets until i find the one i want,
suffuse with the heady scent of Dad.

it takes me back to when i was young and could watch him fascinated
as he stood on the back deck surrounded by his woods. he would pull
the little plastic pouch from his pocket, take just a pinch and push it
down into the bowl. it seemed a ceremony of Fall, the smoking of a pipe.

i still hear the crinkle of the plastic as he put the pouch away inside his jacket,
the soft click of teeth as he griped the stem, still see the way his lips
would firmly hold the pipe in place while he struck a wooden match and cupped it.
his graying whiskers always curled inward with each pucker as he drew the flame
down into his favorite burl until it finally caught fire.

he would quietly watched the sway of trees in the swift approach of a cold front,
an autumn breeze filled with the promise of rain. i can still smell the smoke
as it circled around his head and rose up to the leaves to finally dissipate.

once, he turned with a smile and said,
when I am old, I will grow a long white beard and sail away to sea.

it was alarming for a young girl to hear, too soon to know
i would not always have him and i wondered when he would disappear,
imagined him on his little boat sailing out of places like Biscayne Bay, Nantucket
or even Montauk from his youth, maybe he would go as far as Puget Sound or
finally discover the real Drake’s Bay. i worried i would never see him again
but his eyes twinkled and he winked before turning back to watch his trees.

i replace the stopper, tuck the vivid memory, letting go his scent. he never left
those woods, instead he found a point of land jutting out into a lake and named it
Friday Harbor after another favorite place. he shaved his beard and put away
the pipe to settle into his life. with daily forays onto the water, he sails away
but always he comes back.

i smile at the tobacconist, thank him with a wave, open the door to a ring of bells
just in time to catch the rain.



...

 

[HotKittySpank]

i have a few others that are not ready yet.
will pop them up when i feel good about them.
thanks again for the encouragement Art. : )

BIG hugs --j

 

[My Erotic Trail]

i have a few others that are not ready yet.
will pop them up when i feel good about them.
thanks again for the encouragement Art. : )

BIG hugs --j

I enjoy reading this thread's offerings
such as...

"i smile at the tobacconist, thank him with a wave, "
(I have a passion for Habana) and poetry (~_~) <bigrin

 

[Unbridled_Passion]

on Fall days such as this, with nostalgia hung heavily in the air,
i search out the tobacconist to peruse his glass jars all lined up. my fingers skim
the cool surfaces, lifting each one in turn. i feel the weight of those domed lids
and flip them over to sample their bouquets until i find the one i want,
suffuse with the heady scent of Dad.

it takes me back to when i was young and could watch him fascinated
as he stood on the back deck surrounded by his woods. he would pull
the little plastic pouch from his pocket, take just a pinch and push it
down into the bowl. it seemed a ceremony of Fall, the smoking of a pipe.

i still hear the crinkle of the plastic as he put the pouch away inside his jacket,
the soft click of teeth as he griped the stem, still see the way his lips
would firmly hold the pipe in place while he struck a wooden match and cupped it.
his graying whiskers always curled inward with each pucker as he drew the flame
down into his favorite burl until it finally caught fire.

he would quietly watched the sway of trees in the swift approach of a cold front,
an autumn breeze filled with the promise of rain. i can still smell the smoke
as it circled around his head and rose up to the leaves to finally dissipate.

once, he turned with a smile and said,
when I am old, I will grow a long white beard and sail away to sea.

it was alarming for a young girl to hear, too soon to know
i would not always have him and i wondered when he would disappear,
imagined him on his little boat sailing out of places like Biscayne Bay, Nantucket
or even Montauk from his youth, maybe he would go as far as Puget Sound or
finally discover the real Drake’s Bay. i worried i would never see him again
but his eyes twinkled and he winked before turning back to watch his trees.

i replace the stopper, tuck the vivid memory, letting go his scent. he never left
those woods, instead he found a point of land jutting out into a lake and named it
Friday Harbor after another favorite place. he shaved his beard and put away
the pipe to settle into his life. with daily forays onto the water, he sails away
but always he comes back.

i smile at the tobacconist, thank him with a wave, open the door to a ring of bells
just in time to catch the rain.



...

memories of loved ones are always the best. Lou Anne

 

[HotKittySpank]

yea!!! you guys are so wonderful to say nice things. i am happy : )

will have more soon - promise. i've been helping a dear friend get ready for the birth of her first baby. such a wonderful honor to be there with her. *sigh*

big hugs to all. --j

...

 

[My Erotic Trail]

yea!!! you guys are so wonderful to say nice things. i am happy : )

will have more soon - promise. i've been helping a dear friend get ready for the birth of her first baby. such a wonderful honor to be there with her. *sigh*

big hugs to all. --j

...

good to see ya back <grin
happy hoilidays to you and yours

 

[HotKittySpank]

i will tell you the tale of a teddy bear,
he was covered in red hair everywhere.

i would wrap myself around his muscle
and giggle with the tickles of our tussle,
`
and though he liked to make me laugh
it was never a wham, bam and dash…

he made love to me so sweet and tender
it always ended in my tears of surrender.

; )

...

 

[HotKittySpank]

ornamental plum leaves swirled around her feet
as the girl ran full out across the littered concrete.
they hopped and pranced hopeful, end over end,
excited by the wake of her manufactured wind.
in their effort to hold her, they artificially danced.
some amethyst gems clung, decorating her pants,
but even her momentum failed to hold them long.
dropping off, they fell back reluctant to the ground.


...

 

[HotKittySpank]

cypress

it looked like it was made of those round rice paddy hats,
stacked, one atop the next. its green branches swung lazy,
shifting our circle of shade as we laid back stretching toes.

...

 

[HotKittySpank]

this morning the dew froze
in diamonds across the lawn.
glittering under the frosty sun
they slowly dissolved
.................as it slowly rose,
until only jeweled shapes and
long shimmering lines huddled
inside the shrinking shadows.



...
: ) having fun -hope you are too. --j

 

[HotKittySpank]

it moved in slow rectangles around the screen door,
....................long neck angling to keep us in sight
as we watched it fascinated by our close encounter.

counting legs and antennae, petting
long brown wing covers with the back of our fingers,
.........we gazed into its milky eyes that scanned us
reminded of every alien movie we ever saw.

sizing up our monstrous threat, it never showed fear
...............................intent on the task of escape.

tiny hooks on bent arms heavy laden with spikes
..........felt their way along as if praying for a crack.

each slender leg moved forward one at a time
............................synchronized to follow its mind
in the walk of elegant assurance and poise
reserved for only the highly evolved,..........knowing
it would soon discover an escape route to the outside
so clearly visible through the mesh
that held it trapped on the wrong side of our worlds.


...
...

 

[HotKittySpank]

odd xmas rites

as these hunters lumber past with fresh kills fixed to car tops and hoods,
their prickly green multi-point prongs flopping limp in the wind,
i think it funny how we are to cart them off like this,
strapped down with rope like prized bucks, dead.

...

 

[HotKittySpank]

target practice

slipping around this cloudy night,
twin spot lights circle and unite,
then separate again to connect
once more at the other end.
a little jet slips through the center
and, as if blinking lights in answer,
it disappears into the stars within
a jagged crack of endless white.

...