you mean like this?selflesslustJuly 29 2005, 21:00:46 UTC
Day was gliding into afternoon, low sun drifting amid floating dust that refused to settle upon her slice of half-consumed, now forgotten birthday cake. It was no longer a lust for sweets that consumed her concentration, but rather the hard hold of his palm, his digging fingertips grasping the sweat of her ass as he cultivated with green thumb the practiced insertion swirls amid her labia garden.
~~~~~~~~~~~ by the way, this is very similar to a new community i was invited to join twistedfifty that has really helped get my creative mind working again. Sometimes I need homework assignments to write anything at all.
"Laura, taking a break from exercising her green thumb that afternoon, was preparing a snack when she noticed the way her knife was delicately gliding through the still moist left-over cake, inspiring within her with a lust that that night, she might lie beneath someone's wanton, hungry eyes cutting through her like that blade."
The dew from the windows glistened from the sun as I took a sip or orange juice. It was a peaceful morning, the sun shining, no sounds; just peaceful hums from mother nature and light drizzling rain falling from the tree leaves of the big oak out front. I traced my finger around the coaster and dazed off into nothingness. By the late afternoon I was tired and motionless. I'd spent most of the day perfecting his birthday cake, knowing that Miranda would be pleased that I did so. I'd decorated the top with flowers and a big tree in the middle. By the end of it I had a stained green thumb and purple finger tips. I had to grin at myself. Miranda interrupted my thoughts as I sat with my head in my hands at the kitchen table. Gliding into the room, she ran her fingers through her blonde streak hair and sighed wearily. I stood up, greeting her.. blushing lightly. I could feel my lust rising, every feeling inside, every sensation. I couldn't think, breathe, nothing. I felt the collar snap around my neck as her soft red lips met mine.
À son insu, les gens du village, plus spécialement les enfants, l'appelait 'madame pouce-vert'. Contrairement à la majorité des propriétés des voisins, la maison de la dame se situait à l'avant de la maison plutôt que dans la cours arrière. Les fleurs et arbustes de toutes sortes abondaient si bien que le jardin avait des airs de jungle florale. Parfois, des enfants venaient cogner à sa porte pour leur exprimer leur désir de se promener dans le jardin. Bien souvent, la dame leur donnait la permission d'y rester le temps d'un après-midi. Un jour, pour la remercier, un enfant laissa un gâteau qu'il avait fait lui-même avec l'aide de sa mère sur le pas de la porte et glissa un note sous la porte d'entrée.
It's a slowly moving, quickly darkening afternoon. The clouds outside are as heavy as my eyelids, and just as close to opening to let tears flow. I've smoked too much and I'm just coasting -- gliding through the very moments which are supposed to shape my character and teach me how to think. No, how to feel. But mind-numbing drugs cannot substitute for learning. This is no longer the time when lust could satisfy the need for love and deep thought, or when some friend with a green thumb for laughter could reshape every empty moment into a joke. My life is no longer icing on a cake -- it's a game with much higher stakes. Stakes I have finally, at this very moment, accepted.
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But what I meant to say was, I'm adding you. Cheers.
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by the way, this is very similar to a new community i was invited to join twistedfifty that has really helped get my creative mind working again. Sometimes I need homework assignments to write anything at all.
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I will have to check out that little community you speak of
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"Laura, taking a break from exercising her green thumb that afternoon, was preparing a snack when she noticed the way her knife was delicately gliding through the still moist left-over cake, inspiring within her with a lust that that night, she might lie beneath someone's wanton, hungry eyes cutting through her like that blade."
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By the late afternoon I was tired and motionless. I'd spent most of the day perfecting his birthday cake, knowing that Miranda would be pleased that I did so. I'd decorated the top with flowers and a big tree in the middle. By the end of it I had a stained green thumb and purple finger tips. I had to grin at myself.
Miranda interrupted my thoughts as I sat with my head in my hands at the kitchen table. Gliding into the room, she ran her fingers through her blonde streak hair and sighed wearily. I stood up, greeting her.. blushing lightly. I could feel my lust rising, every feeling inside, every sensation. I couldn't think, breathe, nothing. I felt the collar snap around my neck as her soft red lips met mine.
( ... )
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Green Thumb: pouce-vert
Cake: gâteau
Gliding: glisser
Lust: désir
Afternoon: après-midi
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À son insu, les gens du village, plus spécialement les enfants, l'appelait 'madame pouce-vert'. Contrairement à la majorité des propriétés des voisins, la maison de la dame se situait à l'avant de la maison plutôt que dans la cours arrière. Les fleurs et arbustes de toutes sortes abondaient si bien que le jardin avait des airs de jungle florale. Parfois, des enfants venaient cogner à sa porte pour leur exprimer leur désir de se promener dans le jardin. Bien souvent, la dame leur donnait la permission d'y rester le temps d'un après-midi. Un jour, pour la remercier, un enfant laissa un gâteau qu'il avait fait lui-même avec l'aide de sa mère sur le pas de la porte et glissa un note sous la porte d'entrée.
'Merci Madame Pouce-Vert'
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----
But what I meant to say was, I'm adding you. Cheers.
~ Natasha
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