Dearest Diary,
Your ruffles do always comfort me so, as do your firm -yet supple- pages. After last weeks bout of possible skullduggery, I have been flying "incognito" as they say. TTND 1 and 2 have been giving me such trouble. I am wracking my nubile little brain trying to arrive at some definitive answer, but to no avail. But, fear not! I have a plan...
I have heard tales of these magical pleasure machines called "kissing booths" set up for a non-committal exchange of the smoochies. The Annual Gainesville Homecoming/Paternity-Fest is fast approaching, and guess who has registered to man the aforementioned booth? Hmmm?! MEE!
I shall determine, by way of my impeccable recall of sensual memory, which of the two redheaded rapscallions gave me my first chocofly kiss. I have been going through chapstick like Unca Macbeth goes through Meow mix in an effort to give the two old boys a head start and keep the ladies happy.
I must now go about making sure all parties will be in attendance, I wonder if father would follow through with his threat of live burial if I use his printing press again? For love...I'll risk it; who knows? Maybe my matronly morsel might stop by and solve my dilemma once and for all :)
In anticipation of snogging,
Y.B.P.M.
Showing posts with label delicious kisses. Show all posts
Showing posts with label delicious kisses. Show all posts
Monday, October 26, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
The...kiss
Diary...
Slightly less S.U.t.W. As I write this, you might notice my youthful exuberance has diminished. I believe I have finally become a man. That's right diary, the deed was done. I collected enough specimens to make an acceptable present to the fair Gilmer. I gave her the box of chocolates, filled with a plethora of richly colored butterflies. She devoured them with a lusty glee, covering her face with bits of wing and nougat. Halfway through the thorax of a particularly succulent monarch she stopped and smiled. She stood up, wiped most of the remainder from her mouth...then and then...asdf980uhjirorgiok.grreh m,jkegjlkgsdljk;vcxkhdgzviogsd
OH! Diary, I should know better than try to write an entry right before 2:00. Where was I, let me read and...Oh, yes...Diary, um, so...I was about to divulge the juicy details of my newfound "experience" in the ways of love. I must confess to dipping into the exotic trail mix to ease my nervousness, but the churning of my stomach told me that butterflies and snickers do not make good stomach fodder. I gulped as she stared into my eyes with a look that I can only assume was desire. She blurted out "You Burfflyes and Chocate!?" before I could respond, she pressed her decidedly non-chappy lips against my own! Her sweet, soft, tender pillows of pleasure worked their way all across my face! She made these odd slurping sounds that, I must admit frightened me a bit, but I braved the terror and enjoyed the ride of my young, bonny life! Eventually, she stopped, pushed me to the ground, and proclaimed "AWLL KWEEN!" and scampered off, her red pigtails bouncing to the throbbing of my thrice beating heart!
Diary, her voracity was so thorough, all the butterfly and chocolate I had foolishly forgotten to clean off my face was gone! What a woman! Clearly she will remember me as she slimes her way into a cocoon (and my heart) and emerges as a mighty demigoddess! I shall be her man-queen (What would one call the male lover of a demigoddess?)! Maybe she'll share the secret and I shall become a god as well. I hope I get wings.
In post-make-out-glow,
Y.B.P.M the Smooched
Slightly less S.U.t.W. As I write this, you might notice my youthful exuberance has diminished. I believe I have finally become a man. That's right diary, the deed was done. I collected enough specimens to make an acceptable present to the fair Gilmer. I gave her the box of chocolates, filled with a plethora of richly colored butterflies. She devoured them with a lusty glee, covering her face with bits of wing and nougat. Halfway through the thorax of a particularly succulent monarch she stopped and smiled. She stood up, wiped most of the remainder from her mouth...then and then...asdf980uhjirorgiok.grreh m,jkegjlkgsdljk;vcxkhdgzviogsd
OH! Diary, I should know better than try to write an entry right before 2:00. Where was I, let me read and...Oh, yes...Diary, um, so...I was about to divulge the juicy details of my newfound "experience" in the ways of love. I must confess to dipping into the exotic trail mix to ease my nervousness, but the churning of my stomach told me that butterflies and snickers do not make good stomach fodder. I gulped as she stared into my eyes with a look that I can only assume was desire. She blurted out "You Burfflyes and Chocate!?" before I could respond, she pressed her decidedly non-chappy lips against my own! Her sweet, soft, tender pillows of pleasure worked their way all across my face! She made these odd slurping sounds that, I must admit frightened me a bit, but I braved the terror and enjoyed the ride of my young, bonny life! Eventually, she stopped, pushed me to the ground, and proclaimed "AWLL KWEEN!" and scampered off, her red pigtails bouncing to the throbbing of my thrice beating heart!
Diary, her voracity was so thorough, all the butterfly and chocolate I had foolishly forgotten to clean off my face was gone! What a woman! Clearly she will remember me as she slimes her way into a cocoon (and my heart) and emerges as a mighty demigoddess! I shall be her man-queen (What would one call the male lover of a demigoddess?)! Maybe she'll share the secret and I shall become a god as well. I hope I get wings.
In post-make-out-glow,
Y.B.P.M the Smooched
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Sunshine Dust
Diary,
S.U.t.W, but let's skip with the pleasentries, I think Gilmer might be a goddess; possibly a demigoddess. My delicious TTND has a healthy appetite for the luscious lepidoptera, so I took it upon myself to gather several specimens and daintily display them in a tin of chocolates. As grotesque a spectacle as it might seem, I did so only because the sight of her munching on the winged creatures in a chipmunkish fashion filled me with such feelings...lets just say that the catalytic converter was not catching all the pollutants, if you know what I mean! Teehee.
As I was collecting the specimens, I noticed that the poor delictables were losing a powdery substance on my fingers. I was shocked and let this antennaed aliment go free, but it was unable to flap its way to safety.
Diary, I believe my ginger princess might have method to her madness. These butterflies (which is a complete misnomer by the way...CrunchyDirtFlies would be much more applicable...I mean...I didn't...what? I didn't say anything.) seem to have the transformative powers of a god. Once those horrid grub-fingers slime and ooze their way into that rancid sack, they emerge weeks later as a magnificent, beautiful flower... I don't think my obligatory metaphor was required in this case...Anyway, I believe my carrot-top-carbuncle is trying to transcend to the next plane of existence by consuming the "sunshine dust" of these winged insects.
Surely she must be a goddess, how else could her strange behavior be explained!? As spunkily delicious as she is now, imagine the wonder that would be the post-cocoon Gilmer (assuming the transition from human to god requires a cocoon)! I have continued to collect many more glorious proboscised pabulum for my ravenous red-head. Oh, diary how she will thank me! She will swoon, or possibly totter and fall like a newborn babe, and glubber some generous thank you, followed by a...dare I hope...large, sloppy kiss!? oooh! GLEE!
Diary, I must go and continue the search for more of the magic bugs...bugs, so callous a word for such a magnificent ticket to sweet, sweet loving.
In breathless anticipation,
Y.B.P.M.
S.U.t.W, but let's skip with the pleasentries, I think Gilmer might be a goddess; possibly a demigoddess. My delicious TTND has a healthy appetite for the luscious lepidoptera, so I took it upon myself to gather several specimens and daintily display them in a tin of chocolates. As grotesque a spectacle as it might seem, I did so only because the sight of her munching on the winged creatures in a chipmunkish fashion filled me with such feelings...lets just say that the catalytic converter was not catching all the pollutants, if you know what I mean! Teehee.
As I was collecting the specimens, I noticed that the poor delictables were losing a powdery substance on my fingers. I was shocked and let this antennaed aliment go free, but it was unable to flap its way to safety.
Diary, I believe my ginger princess might have method to her madness. These butterflies (which is a complete misnomer by the way...CrunchyDirtFlies would be much more applicable...I mean...I didn't...what? I didn't say anything.) seem to have the transformative powers of a god. Once those horrid grub-fingers slime and ooze their way into that rancid sack, they emerge weeks later as a magnificent, beautiful flower... I don't think my obligatory metaphor was required in this case...Anyway, I believe my carrot-top-carbuncle is trying to transcend to the next plane of existence by consuming the "sunshine dust" of these winged insects.
Surely she must be a goddess, how else could her strange behavior be explained!? As spunkily delicious as she is now, imagine the wonder that would be the post-cocoon Gilmer (assuming the transition from human to god requires a cocoon)! I have continued to collect many more glorious proboscised pabulum for my ravenous red-head. Oh, diary how she will thank me! She will swoon, or possibly totter and fall like a newborn babe, and glubber some generous thank you, followed by a...dare I hope...large, sloppy kiss!? oooh! GLEE!
Diary, I must go and continue the search for more of the magic bugs...bugs, so callous a word for such a magnificent ticket to sweet, sweet loving.
In breathless anticipation,
Y.B.P.M.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Oh Rapturous Day! (or ten internets for guessing the comic-book allusion of awesome)
Oh Dearest Diary,
I must dispense with pleasantries and jump right into the fray - as it were. I have in my possession a note of such impassioned excess, that I am nearly bursting at the proverbial seams.
"To the Dear Boy, Prince Malcolm" is printed in exquisitely feminine print. The ink boldly seeps through the pages as the author's passion for me undoubtedly does. I carefully unfold the paper's ragged edges (the letter was written in haste, perhaps an illicit romantic attraction!? Oh, how delightfully novel!) and unfold the sweet tenders lying within.
"To the Scrumptious, Young Prince Malcolm." Diary, could it be? Could I have enticed such passionate feeling from another that they are willing, nay-desirous, to abandon all customary societal and moral law and devour me as I devoured Cook' s pamcakes yesterday morn!? Mustn't conjecture, perhaps in the courtship process one must express a desire to feast upon the flesh of their beloved. yes of course, that MUST be it! A healthy appetite confirms ones healthy genetic material. Silly young prince Malcolm, you are so un-knowledgeable in the ways of love. I must read on.
"While I understand how ill-advised writing this letter may be, I cannot stand to remain silent a moment longer: I burn with desire for your youthful and innocent touch." OOOOH! Diary, there are no diphthongs nor pure vowel sounds known to man that could convey my elation! It assuredly was written by a woman given to another man...could it be!? Have all my musings and their manifest stickies come to fruition!? Well, regardless, I may not have to wait until this years cotillion before I receive my first kiss! I wonder what it will be like. Will she smell of flowers or freshly baked goods! Will she taste like freshly baked goods? I hope she tastes like boysenberry: the most exotic of the berries. Mmmmm..Must continue, must not get lost...in...thoughts.
"I have heard you are yet unknown to woman. How I long to be your alluringly older, more experienced, yet gentle guide to the art and act of love." How does she know! She must be someone close by... I had no idea love could manifest itself both as an act (kissing in various degrees) and art (etchings and the like). I must not let Lady MacD...I mean "the mysterious stranger" know I did not know of these rituals. She knows I am inexperienced, but I may surprise her with my love making abilities; I am unrivaled in my etching ability and I can put away pamcakes like "a champ"- father says.
"Though it may never come to pass, know that your tender kiss is always in my thoughts." No! No! Diary, say it isn't so! It must happen! It must!
"Your loving friend,
Lady Macduff (stricken through)
I mean,
your secret admirer "
Diary, I am not fooled by such a simple trick! It IS Lady McD! Oh, how I have long awaited this day. I knew my dream with Benson was prophetic! I must make this happen. I shall see her again before too long and I must let her know that I desire her kisses above all else. I shall greet her with an etching of her lovely face surrounded by many hearts, a basket of baked goods, a customary nibble on her fair flesh, and possibly (if my courage doesn't fail) steal a kiss! Oh, Diary, I have lots of work to do!
Indubitably yours,
Young Prince Malcolm
I must dispense with pleasantries and jump right into the fray - as it were. I have in my possession a note of such impassioned excess, that I am nearly bursting at the proverbial seams.
"To the Dear Boy, Prince Malcolm" is printed in exquisitely feminine print. The ink boldly seeps through the pages as the author's passion for me undoubtedly does. I carefully unfold the paper's ragged edges (the letter was written in haste, perhaps an illicit romantic attraction!? Oh, how delightfully novel!) and unfold the sweet tenders lying within.
"To the Scrumptious, Young Prince Malcolm." Diary, could it be? Could I have enticed such passionate feeling from another that they are willing, nay-desirous, to abandon all customary societal and moral law and devour me as I devoured Cook' s pamcakes yesterday morn!? Mustn't conjecture, perhaps in the courtship process one must express a desire to feast upon the flesh of their beloved. yes of course, that MUST be it! A healthy appetite confirms ones healthy genetic material. Silly young prince Malcolm, you are so un-knowledgeable in the ways of love. I must read on.
"While I understand how ill-advised writing this letter may be, I cannot stand to remain silent a moment longer: I burn with desire for your youthful and innocent touch." OOOOH! Diary, there are no diphthongs nor pure vowel sounds known to man that could convey my elation! It assuredly was written by a woman given to another man...could it be!? Have all my musings and their manifest stickies come to fruition!? Well, regardless, I may not have to wait until this years cotillion before I receive my first kiss! I wonder what it will be like. Will she smell of flowers or freshly baked goods! Will she taste like freshly baked goods? I hope she tastes like boysenberry: the most exotic of the berries. Mmmmm..Must continue, must not get lost...in...thoughts.
"I have heard you are yet unknown to woman. How I long to be your alluringly older, more experienced, yet gentle guide to the art and act of love." How does she know! She must be someone close by... I had no idea love could manifest itself both as an act (kissing in various degrees) and art (etchings and the like). I must not let Lady MacD...I mean "the mysterious stranger" know I did not know of these rituals. She knows I am inexperienced, but I may surprise her with my love making abilities; I am unrivaled in my etching ability and I can put away pamcakes like "a champ"- father says.
"Though it may never come to pass, know that your tender kiss is always in my thoughts." No! No! Diary, say it isn't so! It must happen! It must!
"Your loving friend,
Lady Macduff (stricken through)
I mean,
your secret admirer "
Diary, I am not fooled by such a simple trick! It IS Lady McD! Oh, how I have long awaited this day. I knew my dream with Benson was prophetic! I must make this happen. I shall see her again before too long and I must let her know that I desire her kisses above all else. I shall greet her with an etching of her lovely face surrounded by many hearts, a basket of baked goods, a customary nibble on her fair flesh, and possibly (if my courage doesn't fail) steal a kiss! Oh, Diary, I have lots of work to do!
Indubitably yours,
Young Prince Malcolm
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