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From: "Sean Farragher" <sfarragher@nj.rr.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Sex Prose-Poem: The Books of Joss    " Joss, Jess, Jessica and lipstick Cocks "
Date: Tue, 25 Mar 2003 07:10:06 -0500
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Ocean Sexy Waves
 From the Books of Joss
(c) 2003 Sean Farragher
sfarragher@nj.rr.com

http://www.seanfarragher.com

http://www.seanfarragher.com/taximurdersbook/index.html
Taxi Murders the Novel --


The Books of Joss
http://www.seanfarragher.com/Joss
http://www.seanfarragher.com/Joss/Html/facesofjoss/josspleasure.html
Joss: Ocean Waves

Joss, slowly, and inexorably became Jessica. She rested, head back. Hard
Sex, she begged as dear God and recent queen of more than the earth, more
than Heaven reached out to know the tremere and design of ocean waves to be
more than lead, more than a block to the other tides.

She touched her mouth, and she sucked my thumb, I stirred her neck, and as
I kissed I gently sneak up the elastic waist to cup her tit, gently playing
the back of her nipple, sensuous ridges, thumbing the stems, memorizing the
rise and fall of the flat top, and the descent as a baby with one tooth
holds on, its a terror, she said, stopping at four months, holding it
between two fingers like big cocks, nipples, clits or later, after she was
wet (usually before I touched her clit), jerking us off, wetting it with
spit and lips, reaching inside, two fingers up the snatch, after a hour of
first just rubbing and open kissing, furious, and her brown ragged bush and
its soft hot, shivering as sight and talent mingled in the long song that
"Chances Are" we sang with Johnny Mathis, we played lead and back up the
grounded music of any slow dance lullaby in bass rocked, thumped and then
slowly tamed my hands which seemed attached to what I must feel like inside
her skin, and when she pulled at my hand, pressured my stop, asked me to
stop, as I reached lower, shaking; No, I ... she said let me, reaching
through my pants, she held my cock, the appendage she called Mr. Joss
(another part of herself) when I came in my underwear, she kissed my lips,
and why can't I help you, no, she said, if you were to touch my heart
inside, you know, than we would make love, I would open my arms and risk
your life and career let alone mine while I raped you, dear Man of my life.
I would find a way, she shouted, and I answered, heaven help her, my
glorious majesty.

I am taken inside, my mind only, feeling my cock, years later, I imagined
my belly opened up, and when I breathed I remember how natural shapes,
female demons, lovers, foils and counter stroke, within the contour of my
willing leaf then branch, even a slight mists melded as diamonds and
sapphires shifted light from ordinary bloom to a barge drifting sleep
across a lake flooded like the pale rose flowers on her translucent blouse.
The stains were deep from the interior pulse more than radiance and luster
but just as wholesome as the primary's, yellow, red, blue, and don't forget
the summary, black (absence), and do not forget white (fullness,
abundance), that almost unbearable color- the pink and cream of the gig,
thy cunny was pure as what time keeps. She was the perfect light and the
night, and easy as skin removed slowly from an apple, one piece at time
until the red and flesh of the apple covered with lipstick and after shave
fermented into semen stale and thin running out of the cum bag.

Every day of very every month I moan in my unbuttoned pants at the end when
I watched her sex flap apart and applaud.


For More Book of Joss and Sean's Erotic Poetry and Prose
http://www.guillermobosch.com/saucebox/sauce_box.html


END

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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