Oh how I long for Wild Ginger. I saw her once and invited her in for tea. A very English afair.
She saw my undisguised hunger.
She and tasted my tension.
She stood heart open as the ice melted on my skin. I loved that open look of desire.
Later as the dimension opened there she is waiting.
Pure wild ginger.
Encased in sheer plastic the wild one stands waiting sweetly behind the door,
I take a hold, I cant help it I'm mesmerised to a T. But there is something on the boil, a tree of amber dogs bark.
A shiny tight shapely package bursting with summer sweetness waits for the off.
We engage. We struggle. Down on the floor this way and that. One leg on the stairs one in the hall and one in another place i care not to mention. Pulling and pushing back and forth in sheer sweat of hungry desire, salivating at the horn of it, then Gingers top tears. Rips Open.
Something had to give. I push it down hard. She wants to be out. Inside that perfumed sweetness yeids to my touch. That wondeful taste of wild ginger tingles on my tongue. I wash it down with dogs bark soup. And leer cheekily at the remainder.
