He said post *anything*...
Seriously, did you even hesitate before you clicked?
I wrote two very short pieces on... let's say unusual pairings. May not be everyone's taste, so don't say I didn't warn you!
She looked at him and shivered. She was no simpering, modest miss, but the sight of him could cause a hardened harlot to swoon. He was perfection. A good twelve inches of hard, cold aluminum, at least a size 15. He was a deep midnight blue, and his surface, burnished by years of yarn sliding sensuously over it, glowed in the dim lamplight. She looked down at her own frumpy plastic body, a pale, unattractive shade of light purple made more hideous by its obvious seams and sickly translucency. And she was a P, for goodness sake! A man of his caliber should have a svelte 00 steel by his side. What could he possibly see in her? She pushed that thought aside as he gently slid his tip into her hook...
(9 months later a Tunisian Crochet Hook was born...)
The Scottish wool snuggled up next to the American cashmere, and said in his soft, husky brogue, "I canna wait to be knit together with you."
She giggled, and gave him a gentle push. "But we just met, I hardly know you!"
He slipped a roughened strand between her silky ones and she gasped softly. He smiled, and said, "But we were made for each other, can't you feel it?"
And feel it she did! The sensations running through her skein were like nothing she'd ever felt before...
I wrote two very short pieces on... let's say unusual pairings. May not be everyone's taste, so don't say I didn't warn you!
She looked at him and shivered. She was no simpering, modest miss, but the sight of him could cause a hardened harlot to swoon. He was perfection. A good twelve inches of hard, cold aluminum, at least a size 15. He was a deep midnight blue, and his surface, burnished by years of yarn sliding sensuously over it, glowed in the dim lamplight. She looked down at her own frumpy plastic body, a pale, unattractive shade of light purple made more hideous by its obvious seams and sickly translucency. And she was a P, for goodness sake! A man of his caliber should have a svelte 00 steel by his side. What could he possibly see in her? She pushed that thought aside as he gently slid his tip into her hook...
(9 months later a Tunisian Crochet Hook was born...)
The Scottish wool snuggled up next to the American cashmere, and said in his soft, husky brogue, "I canna wait to be knit together with you."
She giggled, and gave him a gentle push. "But we just met, I hardly know you!"
He slipped a roughened strand between her silky ones and she gasped softly. He smiled, and said, "But we were made for each other, can't you feel it?"
And feel it she did! The sensations running through her skein were like nothing she'd ever felt before...