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wicked and that ain't so easy
 
"if there were but world enough and time..."

but there isn't.

so......spit it out.
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"we are all just walking each other home" Ram Dass
Posted:Jul 10, 2018 2:28 pm
Last Updated:Jul 26, 2018 3:57 pm
11475 Views

She stood on her back porch, listening to the of the neighbor’s bug zapper, flinching with each sizzle. Her hand trembled as she lit up, a line ran across her brain, “smoking sawdust cigarettes in the middle of the night…”. The man in the bakery, handing her the collected works, what was she, 19. 20? It had moved with her, this book, dozens of times; more of a home than some of her homes had been.

Now here in this house for such a long time, time enough to grow a , to bury a marriage, to witness the crumbling of kinships that had seemed built on stone. A life filled with small sorrows. She had learned to bend.

As a she and her cousin who had lived in each other’s pockets would swing birches for hours, just for that moment when the birch having bent as far as it could would revolt, toss them up and away, into the sky into the possibilities. Ridding itself of the burden, the weight, finding itself once again straight tall, free.

But sometimes, a birch would under their weight, the careless weight of youth. They would sit then, by the tree, no longer giddy youth but almost women, feeling the shame of breaking something beautiful.

Having spent an hour driving, an hour sitting in a plastic chair waiting for someone to leave so there would be space for her to go in, she was almost dazed when they called her name and she entered the trap. Hands up, hands down, open your mouth, ruffle your hair, flip your ears, turn out pockets, fingers around your waistband. Her stomach knotted, her mouth dry.

His face, his smile,suddenly she is ravenous. They talk about a book they’re reading together, about a letter he wrote to her Sister the Saint who wrote back, about nothing and everything, blessed be, but time was gone so they stood for a second hands against the glass before she turned to leave, looking back to see him watching her, to catch a last smile but instead catching him just staring so she touched her chin, he grinned.

And now, now sleep was not hers to find.

It would be a long walk home, this time. Still, it would come.
6 Comments
the other shoe
Posted:Jul 5, 2018 9:20 am
Last Updated:Jul 10, 2018 2:29 pm
11635 Views

life has a way of biting me in the ass lately and not in a good way.

my ex husband who is not really an ex since I never bothered to divorce him, I just haven't lived with for over 25 years asked to move home. it was an odd request coming as it did timing wise...a story I have yet to tell....and it seemed that it was based on his health although it wasn't actually verbalized. However, we did go to a lawyer and rewrite our will. his idea.

also lots of doctor appointment and meds. though I haven't snooped.

so i'm worried. and it's also a little weird to have him here although he was always here a fair amount. he walked Charlie every day, did all the holidays, etc. dropped by with goodies.

I don't know, I hope i'm wrong.
12 Comments
vacation sex - symposium entry
Posted:Jun 18, 2018 12:10 pm
Last Updated:Jun 21, 2018 1:26 pm
12476 Views
Ah the joy of sharing a cabin with another couple, thinking what fun this will be and then finding what fun this was not at all. One ocd person who put everything away before you’d even finished using it, the constant carping on who ate the last brownie that was being saved. When I’d made the damn things so if anyone got to eat it, yanno?

So, in the dark of night my lover and I swam out to the float for privacy and to get it on, under a starlit sky with no moon and a lot of delicious giggling. Romantic, right? As we pulled ourselves back out of the water back at the camp, he brushed at something on my back. Which didn’t move. He brushed harder. Then he screamed like a girl.

Our friends came running which turned on the power light on the porch for scaring away critters and I looked at his legs. I screamed then too.

We were covered in what looked like river leeches. So gross. The systematic removal took over an hour, the bloom was off the rose. The lake once a shiny sparkly place no longer called to any of us and we left the next day, requesting a refund, which we did not receive.



I doubt there is much that could reinstate passion once you’ve seen a lover covered in big slimy things and heard them screaming like a bitch, so he never did call me again. It’s okay really, we were not that into each other. My friends still vacation with me, still recall swamp night with laughter. Once you’ve burnt a leech off someone’s ass crack, you are either in the wind, or bound for life.
14 Comments
wanton soup
Posted:Jun 8, 2018 11:07 am
Last Updated:Jun 18, 2018 2:13 pm
11900 Views

words are just about my favorite thing. good sex is high on the list too. now put the two together and you can watch my head spin like linda blair.

someone called me wanton...……..I about died of happy. and he did it in that voice he has, you know that voice ladies, the one that turns your legs weak. if your man has THAT voice, he can get you to do just about anything. smh. hell you will come when he calls, just sayin'. forget the words, just ride the sound.

so, where was I...……...words

succulent. another very good word. someone asks you how you are, just say succulent. it's a show stopper. helps if you sashay away. lol.

redolent. not so easy to slip into a convo but when you can, do it and make the comparison a real stinker.....grins.

mellifluous. it is what it is.

vellichour. not sure if I spelled that correctly might not have a u in it but it is the wistful smell of a used bookstore. isn't that fabulous? I love bookstores but used bookstores are the best. find a corner and settle in for an hour or so...heaven.

do you have a word or a phrase that you love? has someone called you something that just made you light up?

care to share?
11 Comments
insouciance.
Posted:Jun 3, 2018 9:05 am
Last Updated:Jun 18, 2018 2:08 pm
12246 Views

There were so many people in the room, she felt like her head would burst from all the energy bouncing around. She should have stayed home as she’d planned but no, something had made her come here so now she had all but flattened herself against a wall in a vain attempt to escape the charged room.

The kitchen had been worse, all that enamel sent the vibes ricocheting to and fro. She almost fell to her knees to crawl out to safety, smirking now at that image as she sipped a very nice Sauvignon Blanc she’d scored.

“Who are you?”

Her eyes had to go up then up some more to find the eyes of the person who was asking. Big nose, prominent cheeks, losing his hair, former athlete or maybe just a runner. Great mouth though.

“I’m the person least likely to be of any interest to you.”

“Odd, since you’re the only person I’ve bothered to speak to so far.”

She thought, not bad but said, ”Wow, work on that for a while did you?”

He hunkered down on the arm of a chair. “Nope. So, what’s your name?”

“Sam. You?”

“Sam. Go figure.”

“That’ll make it easier when we fuck eh?” Realizing what she’d said she blushed then laughed. Well there you go, in for a penny...

He looked at her with a question mark.

“You strike me as arrogant.”

his laughter was deep, sending a wave of need through her, her eyes half closing as her legs nearly let go.

“But how will you know if I’m yelling out my name or yours?”

“Intonation”

He nodded.

“Another wine?”

“No, thank you. I’m ready to leave when you are.”

“Well, this is my house, so unfortunately, we’ve a while to wait.”

“Then yes, another wine.”

As he moved away, she felt both a loss and a spaciousness, the room no longer claustrophobic. She slipped herself into the chair, waited.
12 Comments
the desert
Posted:May 25, 2018 8:18 am
Last Updated:Jun 18, 2018 2:11 pm
11933 Views


she stood watching him work on that old bike. bare chested, sweating in the afternoon sun. nothing she hadn't seen a million times. his jeans catching him tight on his thighs when he hunkered down. She could almost taste the salt on his skin. times like this made her breasts ache, fill up with need of him. still, she just stood, eyes savoring the length of him.

He could feel her eyes on him. his cock twitched wishing she’d hurry the hell up. He knew not to turn, just to wait her out. sometimes she'd startle and then the whole thing would be taken by the wind. He stood and pulled his shoulder to stop the stiffening. He smelled kinds of awful. grabbed a bottle of water and poured it over his head. the sand just ate it like it never was. there was no breeze so the moment stood for the moment. he gulped the rest to soothe his throat.

her breasts on his back, hands around his belly. lips on his neck. she'd be standing on her toes to reach.

his long arms reached behind him pulling her tight to him, find her ass already wet with sweat, sliding over them easily, lifting her off the ground, heading for the barn.

could feel her watching him but didn’t stop working.
11 Comments
Pity
Posted:Apr 21, 2018 11:54 am
Last Updated:Apr 21, 2018 11:54 am
13052 Views

“Pity the nation whose people are sheep,
and whose shepherds mislead them.
Pity the nation whose leaders are liars, whose sages are silenced,
and whose bigots haunt the airwaves.
Pity the nation that raises not its voice,
except to praise conquerors and acclaim the bully as hero
and aims to rule the world with force and by torture.
Pity the nation that knows no other language but its own
and no other culture but its own.
Pity the nation whose breath is money
and sleeps the sleep of the too well fed.
Pity the nation — oh, pity the people who allow their rights to erode
and their freedoms to be washed away.
My country, tears of thee, sweet land of liberty.”
― Lawrence Ferlinghetti
0 Comments
AWOL
Posted:Apr 14, 2018 11:18 am
Last Updated:Apr 23, 2018 12:25 pm
14135 Views
sometimes as the wife of a salesman once said, attention must be paid. i will be doing that and not be doing this for a while.

for those who know me, your energy and your prayers would be appreciated.

for those who only know wickedeasy.....i will catch you on the flip side.

and likely i will be snooping occasionally...

enjoy what i hope is finally spring.

WE



isn't this pretty?
14 Comments
Opti(c)s
Posted:Apr 11, 2018 12:28 pm
Last Updated:Apr 14, 2018 11:21 am
14264 Views

when some you have read forever, who has given you prose that is so sumptuous you groan at the taste of it....

who manages to not only make you want more but also leaves you extrapolating endless chapters that you want to read.

who has a grasp on international politics and finance that puts most national leaders to shame

i will miss Optiskeptic. i was led to him circuitously and i never missed a single post, not . His writing is extraordinary. i wish you could have known it. he could make you weep.

and he has a lovely bum.

too hard on himself by half. but most of the truly wondrous of the world are.

i love you.
9 Comments
What Lies Beneath Symposium #39
Posted:Apr 2, 2018 11:22 am
Last Updated:Apr 11, 2018 12:46 pm
15247 Views


I’ll be back in three days.

Yes.

The door closed behind him, the house falling into a stillness that wrapped around her like a soft quilt. She slid across the wooden floors in her socks, clicking off the filtered air, opening the French doors and stepped out on the cool flagstones, air filling her lungs as she breathed deeply for the first time in what seemed like forever. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out the cigarettes she did not have and lit one, inhaling until she choked. Smiling she sat on the stone wall next to the hydrangeas, wafting smoke rings over the sculpted garden, lighting cigarette from cigarette until the moon rose.

Edging back into the darkened room, she slid silently through the rooms into the kitchen. She would not need a glass, there was no need for pretense or formality this evening. Her hand found the bottle, tucked it in under her arm, reached for the basket in the fridge, wandered back to the bedroom. The light from the moon cast a shadowy spotlight through the skylight that stretched across the chaise by the fireplace, redolent from the spruce logs burned last night. Inhaling the scent, she changed into her nightgown, climbing onto the sleigh bed.

She tipped a handful of the goodies from the basket into her palm, crunched, and followed them with a healthy gulp of Jameson. Treasuring the silence, the lack of TV noise, no computers beeping, no phones pinging with calls, she continued her minor feasting until she began to drift noticing that the house still had its own sound, a thrum of sorts or was that in her head. Pulling herself back up, she gobbled the last of the what the basket held, drank greedily, then gave herself with silent satisfaction to the softness of slumber.

It was not until she awoke, and his voice asked, how did you sleep, that she realized she had not succeeded.

Although she could not have seen the flashing lights, she now fully understood what lies beneath. Next time, she would do better.
7 Comments
you better not never tell nobody but God
Posted:Mar 28, 2018 2:37 pm
Last Updated:Apr 5, 2018 1:13 pm
16226 Views

You better not never tell nobody but God.

Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board.

They shoot the white girl first.

Now I believe they will leave me alone.

Opening lines were once my way to decide if I would take a book under my arm and carry it home with me. Over time I decide I was being hasty and expanded to a chapter but I will admit, an opening line is often enough which brings me to my rant for the month of march. Unlike most of the women here who are inundated with emails and requests for sex, I receive relatively few. My profile clearly states I am not looking for a hookup, I have no half naked or seductive pics, and I will not step on another woman’s toes.

Oh yeah….i’m also 68 which is damn near 70 which is daunting except apparently for men under 35 who for some reason find it appealing. Go figure.

On the rare occasion I have sent an email, I ask questions which necessitate a reply. My opening line while not as glorious as the ones above ranges from disturbed, retiree seeking solace to masochistic pain slut in need of sadist. My replies are few. i am open to suggestions

I figure I need to find that person willing to see humor in the crone who still needs to get off. We all need a little nookie, right? So why do old men with saggy bottoms/balls get it more than old women with elongated titties? Not saying mine are elongated just stereotyping. Mine are so damn perky. All those towers of pain really helped.

Okay, i really am getting to the point. Sex is sexist. And ageist. Did I spell that wrong but take out the e and it looks really really wrong. Y’all know what I’m trying for anyway. Women live longer then men and despite rumors to the contrary, we really do like shtupping. All that madonna stuff is just you men wanting the cake and eating it too, or was it pie……..never mind. Although pie makes more sense when you think about it. All the juices, yanno?

Largest sales of sex toys? elderly women. HA! You should see the ads in AARP, curl your hair.

Okay, I made that up. but it could be true. I buy a LOT. So if you can deal with a little under arm flap KNOWING that you will get a great home cooked meal from an indulgent lover who has years of experience (nudge, nudge, wink, wink)….

And remember, once she takes out those dentures……….sweet JAYSUS.

Okay – no one get their knickers in a twist. I’m just having a bit of fun at my own expense. And no, I don’t have dentures, although I might consider getting them if it’s a deal breaker.
16 Comments
cost of doing business
Posted:Mar 26, 2018 11:45 am
Last Updated:Mar 31, 2018 2:27 pm
15532 Views
A small red pickup, with a rusted out bed covered in plywood stained dark in spots by lord only knows what sat on the asphalt by the fence. It sat there near every day for a good many weeks. No one seemed to notice it, just another truck in truck country. The fence surrounded the building inside which was of brick with windows that seemed to throw the sun back at you. Square, nothing fancy, just a brick building but what it held was precious beyond measure.



That very morning while she was walking to that very building, she thought someday I will never have to do this ever again, it made her smile knowing that in time this would not be a part of her life anymore, that her life would swing out from here to become something else, something that would be more than this brick building, more than hours of restlessness, than days of waiting.

Warehoused within, room after room…

She smelled it, first, like caps and copper.

The sounds came later, soft almost, like she was far away. It wasn’t until he swung out into the corridor that she reacted. Warmth ran down her leg.

She smiled bigger than the sun in August, running forward, dropping her books, her hands flung out to the sides. His eyes caught hers, silence filled the hallway. He lifted her, spun her round and round.

It’ll hurt, he whispered.

She nodded.

He fired into her leg, she screamed, sprawling on the floor at his feet.

He ran.

She pulled herself into a classroom, saw the bodies, wept for the dead.

Revolution has a price.

It would be a good 5 minutes before the truck blew.
8 Comments
Spring - Symposium, oops, i almost missed it.
Posted:Mar 22, 2018 3:05 pm
Last Updated:Apr 11, 2018 1:41 pm
16187 Views

Spring am sprung
the grass is riz
i wonder where
the boidies is?

i've hoid it said
the boid is on the wing
but that's absoid
becuz the wing is on da boid

this is a poem that my DDS used to spout to us as small to keep our minds occupied while he drilled our teeth without novacaine.. we were poor and could not pay for the the pleasure of relatively painless dentistry so we clutched the chair arms instead while he sang ditties and the sour small of rot filled the air..

there are so many rites of spring as a , the easter outfit, April vacation, the first day of fishing season, a trip to see relatives on the farms. One Mother's day we even had a blizzard. All the flowering trees were shivering in a mantle of white until morning when the sun freed them and the snow melted down by mid afternoon. it was a stunning sight.

Spring for me is a time of stretching out, of mild distemper, slight headaches, longing, an itch to travel or maybe just to be someone else for a while. I wonder if all the growing doesn't put that need into us like it does into the land as it softens and allows things to break on through. I have never had a problem with the winter and it's captive nature.....solitude is my friend. Bursting open, now that's the season that feels most like edge play to me. pushing my boundaries, making me want to bite instead of nibble...smiles.

Eliot: April is the cruelest month

eec: ...when the world is mudlucious

springtime is love time and vive sweet love

Larkin: The trees are coming into leaf, like something almost being said

and i remember this line but not who wrote it "March is out of breath"

PS> Smartass used the term 'pity bdsm' in a recent post.and i saw myself at 85 or so being flogged and all my saggy skin rippling. may i just say....this to me was not upsetting but a guarantee. Not that i'd be filming it but i surely hope the flogger would not be taking it easy on me. i may be in the winter of my life but my mind is still in mid summer.
8 Comments

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