My love is a prick
Like a cactus, or a dick.
And when it rains on quiet mornings, I suck upon her tits.
Hers was slippery. Smooth. Like fibre. Plastic?
Plastic doesn’t sound good when you use the word. It is supposed to denote fake and the distasteful. I liked her plastic body. Because in it there was no pretence. She did not try to be real. Her fakeness was erotic.
I rubbed my hand over her fins. Lightly at first. Feeling the water drip from it. Then hard, pressing against it. Feeling the smooth plastic produce friction against my hand. Heat. Warmth. I let my legs dangle in the water. Bare legs. She sensed my longing and moved closer. She was swimming upright. Like a buoy. And her mouth smiled. Cute, I thought. I rubbed my feet against her back. Hard. The water in between my feet and her back made a sound against the plastic. Elastic, plastic. I thought. She looked happy because her mouth curved. She nuzzled her nose in between my legs. I stroked her head. She let her tongue slide over my shorts. Over the crotch.
It was time, I thought. I jumped into the ocean. No one noticed. The boat moved on with the little islands which sailed it. I was sucked into a whirlpool with her. It was blue, very blue. Her tummy was soft and supple. Not plastic. I touched it rubbing . I think she laughed. A balalaika played somewhere. Drawing closer. Fast. With a noisy chirpy accordion. And jolly. Very jolly. The mood was festive. Several others circled around us and watched us dance. I was flying in the blue water. I kissed her on her mouth. Like an understanding mother, she drew her fins about me hugging me tight and I felt her tongue curling about mine.
Long, long ago, between the waters of Milde and Phon, there existed a slim strip of land called Khwa-ha. The people who inhabited this land were rich and prosperous. The yearly flooding of Khwa-ha provided them a finely fertile land every year where they grew rice, wheat, yam and vegetables of multiple variety to eat. However the people of Khwa-ha also had a peculiar culinary preference- which the obnoxiously elite of today’s modern society tend to deem gross- the Khwa-ha had a most notable weakness for penises.
This taste for penises was almost an obsession with the people of Khwa-ha to the extent that every Khwa-ha household had the penises of its male ancestors chopped off upon death and placed at the domestic altar for a week whereupon they were taken as sanctified blessing and cooked into a delicious meal in the kitchens. This meal was then partaken of by the Khwa-ha commune in beatific ecstasy, and commended as a symbol of extreme good taste.
The penis was not a mere bodily organ for the people of Khwa-ha, rather it held in itself immense proportions of divinity. Penises all around Khwa-ha were elevated to the position of the supremely sacred, as a result of which the people of Khwa-ha spent a lot of time thinking about penises, and their beauty of purpose. There would be days when the entire Khwa-ha community could think of nothing but penises. It has been documented that the Year of Wiener, sponsored by the Weiners, one of the oldest and most respectable families of Khwa-ha, was a particularly significant one in this respect. This year saw the capital town of Khwa-ha organise 49890 food festivals, 2379 musical concerts, 26457 conferences and seminars and 3981 incidences of self-immolation to honor the penis. The Year of Weiner also saw the installation of the first giant penis sculpture in the middle of the town square at Plo- which was soon replicated in several other cities and villages of Khwa-ha in subsequent years. A decade after this first installation, the Khwa-ha Ministry of Culture introduced a Bill in the legislature to make it compulsory for every town in Khwa-ha to install at least 200 and every Khwa-ha village to install at least 100 penis sculptures in an effort to promote art and culture, and additionally outlawed all restaurants, food joints and caterers which did not serve penises. (Sidenote: To stock the Khwa-ha kitchens with a steady supply of penises, the legislature decided to castrate all those who caused injuries to genitalia, which often resulted in mental trauma and shame for the owners of the violated genitals.) As a result, wherever the Khwa-haite stepped she was surrounded the most magnificent of penis selections. Consequently, the Khwa-ha mind and the thought of penis thus became as inseparable as well…two inseparable things. This marked the Classical Age of Khwa-ha history: the golden period of genteel breeding, sophistication and civilisation among Khwa-haites.
Tragedy however struck in the Year of The Great Flood when the great flood flooded Khwa-ha in a flash manouvre so that Khwa-ha was never to be seen again. The flood drowned all lands, destroyed the beautiful crops and most appallingly swept away all their penises. Causalities numbered in thousands, which was significant in reducing the tiny community of Khwa-ha to a tenth of its population. Mercifully, a few Khwa-haites managed to escape on boats to other firmer lands: north, south, east and west, to settle there. They intermarried with the local populations and it has been thus that their line has managed to survive among our world unto the present day.
It is notable that even upon migration to foreign lands, the people of Khwa-ha were proudly protective of their culture and ensured that Khwa-ha traditions were not forgotten in the flurry of movement. To a significant portion, this was fueled by the fact that such a lot of Khwa-haites strongly longed for the taste of penis in their new homes. However, the cultures of their adopted lands more often than not, viewed penis communion with a perspective of disgust. So the Khwa-haites had to devise a new and a more subtle method to obtain their ration of penises.
Castration was an obvious need for the Khwa-haites for access to their daily dosage of penises; however in their new countries, castration was often severely punishable by law. But the Khwa-haites did manage to note that cases of rape and sexual violence were not less rampant here: what the people of Khwa-ha however found peculiar was that people treated injuries to the genitals with no more importance than they treated un-consented injuries to the other parts of the body. This equal treatment of something which was so sacred as the genitals was gross blasphemy to the migrants from Khwa-ha. To not view violence to genitals with absolute horror was horrifically appalling to them. This, coupled with their need for eating penises made the Khwa-ha immigrants launch a sublime yet effective campaign to castrate all penises found guilty of sexual violence. Chemical castrations were further encouraged because it was deemed that nothing as sanctified as a penis should be subject to base instincts like a sexual drive, and a man’s brain should not be held responsible for the sins of such a tainted penis. Chemically castrated penis were viewed as the ideal penises, and were later cut off and communed with in solemn ceremonies of the Khwa-ha community. Such castration was justified in terms of trauma which the Khwa-ha mind supposed should rightly afflict the victim when her holy genitals are manipulated. This shrewd move on the part of Khwa-haites and their descendants has proved to be particularly effective, and is a fine example of the profound level of sophistication which interaction with the great Khwa-ha culture has imparted to contemporary society, and for which one is eternally grateful.
She skipped three long skips and jumped as she neared where he was standing so that her lips triggered the production of adrenaliney glue which glued them to his. This went for a while till the earth was spinning very very fast and they knew it only because they realised they were no longer held by gravity.
Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, Rolly had said as he had activated the motors, so that she was spinning all around him with glue providing the relevant centripetal force. The rotor of a helicopter was thusly discovered as physicists cheered. Some feminists had had a problem with this, but whoever listens to them? Soon the rotational motion had started building up a momentum, which made them spin faster and faster faster till they were seventeen inches above the floor. Together they rose farther and farther- even as she spinned around him- further and further above through the ceiling, through the neighbour’s floor, through the hole in ozone layer, and far far away into outer space. And they kept spinning till they had birthed twenty million more galaxies. When galaxies are so spun, God is happy in His Heaven, and all’s right with the world.
They woke up hot and dizzy… back on earth, with numerous cuts and bruises. The world here was sharp.