She Got the Beat



The animals gravitate to her hips, as do I. From dancefloors full of insects to the alley behind where she lives, they move through the shadows to a soundtrack of Japanese electronica, and as the stars twinkle, so their whiskers vibrate with joy. When she gets close, I bite my tongue and stare at her eyebrows imagining what her pussy looks like. Tilting my head, the scent of her perfume turns my mouth dry as well as transporting me to the village one of my grandmothers used to live in. Breathing in the dry summer air, the sound of clinking milk bottles and birdsong turns me into a five-year-old again. There are wrestling magazines and gobstoppers along with Jaffa Cakes and those trainers with flashing lights in the heels and days spent climbing trees not fearful of falling because the clouds are my destination and nothing will stop me from finding those castles in the sky. Handing me what I ask for, she touches my fingers accidently on purpose with fingers of her own that have been deep inside of her so many times. As the two of us flirt with oneness, the whites of her teeth glisten and the circles around her eyes become even more of a turn-on than they were before. I wonder if she ever played Nintendo as a kid? Or if she had imaginary friends to while away the days and keep her company come the cold and lonely nights? I guess I could ask, but without mystery people get boring, so it’s best not to get too close or give too much away. Still, the thought of her hips and the image of the animals floating around her womb make me drool. Such mystery she possesses. Such voodoo. As the smell of her body causes me to clench my fists, I think of how strange it is that organic creatures like us can behave so, strange. Imagining the two of us taking our clothes off to the music from Donkey Kong Country, or perhaps the title screen ditty of Super Mario World, the animals become a magic carpet and as we lie down upon them they lift us to those castles that still float so high above in the sky.

A Journal for Damned Lovers on

A Journal for Damned Lovers on

20 replies »

  1. There’s always such layers in your writing. Conflict of emotions. Sexiness and sadness. They should clash but really maybe they’ve always have gone hand in hand. Really enjoyed this and how it’s sparked thoughts x

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