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orlando de rudder
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24 janvier 2007

Knead and rummage: Love’s labour!

Look at the sky!  It is  torn by clouds , but as dark as black pudding!  It is so soon in  the summer! I will certainly dare to … Above us  there is the end  the dirty day.  Working hard, and so! But to  knead your boobs I don’t need  no sun!  I’m able to shake you under the thunderstorm!

Sky becomes even darker, a mourning shawl so wide!  Just as big as  bare God’s feet if He’d walked on anthracite, as I do in the mine! Then I’ve put off my shoes: I Look at my amazed toes just while you’re licking them. We don’t need no sun, indeed, don’t we? And no rain either!  Quiet is the moon and  round like a scotch egg!

Yes, no rain! Because of your skirt!  For a wet  skirt is so  heavy to raise. So I’d rather  plunge below! Rummage with my brawn!  That  would give me wets hair!  And a cold baptism with  a quite boiling communion. Meanwhile the black sky will stay black, indeed! What else it could do? Black! Really black! As foamy black pudding.  With stars too much spread  as flown hot potatoes!

We are not late! No need to hurry! The cat can eat some mice  while she waits our coming back! Well as I love you maybe, everything is all right! :  We are going to negotiate gorgeous  caresses. It has to be  too much.

And then, afterwards, we shall return on our premises!  We’ll find thick  soup in shallow plates. Peas and bacon in disorder! So that’s why  I think it is reasonable to creep on  you slowly, you know? This is a nice way to become hungry, isn’it?  But if  you take off your skirt, you will look a lot more womanly. No skin in the world does disguise people! And then, keep on riding, I get  you to furbish, and this will be  much more convenient if you lay really naked!

Notice, at this hour I should be still  working. But really, my darling, I prefer dance on you a careless love’s jig. Sometimes I feel like climbing on a fire during a saint John’s day!  But there is an anchor! I can’t fly, because I’m pegged, but with your plain flesh accessories, you are my motherland, a kind of paradise!  But, before all, we’ll take off this damned fucking bloody skirt!

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M
deux minutes de pause dans la valse des dingues.
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