One-on-One

Did you see the sky?

Yes! It’s blue like we like it, but it’s going to rain later.

I know. But we also like the rain.

Of course, we do; life depends on it.

You didn’t have to go there. I only meant that it’s also nice; not like a blue sky but nice nonetheless, and it smells great.

Oh, I see. You just want small talk; nothing deeper.

We’ve talked enough about life, death, and, of course, the pussy.

What did you expect a prick to talk about? Another prick? Not that there’s anything wrong with it. But we’re straight like a line from here to the Moon.

I would put that line all the way to Mars and even beyond.

I wonder if it’s as straight a line as you think. What about the curvature of space?

That can only be seen over much longer distances such as those between galaxies.

So, basically as long as we don’t stray outside the solar system.

No! Outside the Milky Way. It reminds me of the haiku we wrote so many years ago.

Yes, I remember it. We only wrote one on the Milky Way.

Like a newborn suck-

ing a thumb, waiting for the

breast of a new mom.

We always liked breasts. How could we not? How can anyone not like those beautiful bouncing clouds and the nipples pointing out?

It’s not a commandment. I don’t think that anyone told anyone, “Thou shall love breasts,” as far as I know.

In this cockamamie world, someone surely did. We just did in case no one else did before.

Of course, we love all the rest as much and even more.

The pussy is number one and two; one for me and one for you.

One is enough for the both of us. It’s never fair for one of the women, even if they both seem to be OK with it. I have no issues with sharing knowledge and resources, but having women share a prick is unfair. While the prick looks happy go lucky, the women can only be half-satisfied and half-everything else even if they also make out between themselves. There, I see a sensible commandment. “Thou shall not share your prick with more than one woman at a time.”

But it’s too much fun for the prick to just give up. We may need penalties. Caught once, a warning. Caught a second time, a fine. The amount can be a multiplier of 69. Caught a third time, community service for a good period of time. Perhaps 69 days and nights.

Maybe we’re just saying it because we never had two women at the same time.

I’m glad that we didn’t. The love and pleasure of one woman is more than enough. You focus on all her treasures and you forget where you are. With two women or more, you’re lost between mouths, breasts, pussies, asses, and everything else you may eye. It’s also unfair for the unsuspecting prick. He sees all these beautiful meanings of life and then all their parts and he loses his aim. There’s too much to handle with care. I’m really glad it’s always been one woman at a time for us.

Don’t get carried away! We can’t really say if we haven’t had it.

I don’t care. We haven’t jumped from a plane. Maybe we should do that first, and if we survive, we could contemplate a different jump, or hike some big mountain, but not Everest. It’s a death trap for those who want to be at the top of the world but find themselves after much tribulations at the bottom in a bodybag, or left to thaw out until the next expedition finds them. Some are left there and are never buried, or incinerated for those who prefer to go up in smoke.

Enough with this talk! It’s time to write something sensible like a sonnet, or a dirty ditty, or even a satire about a prick who dreams he’s become a woman and the first thing he does upon waking up is thoroughly check if he has a pussy, the meaning of life.

I’m tired of talking to you, of talking to myself. I hope my muse will send her love and words earlier tonight. I read that it’s going to be a full Moon.