Deborah Lugo (baset) wrote in erotica,
Deborah Lugo
baset
erotica

  • Music:
It seemed to be a lacerated night, home alone or so one thought this to be true.
The translucent boys and girls, gaunt, naked, and sweet, perched on the gunwales of their white boat, tumbling into the green like water, luminosity of skin, muscles, bones, boiling blood all while my fingers dipped into it, coursing along my inner thigh.



Oh the tingling of purple organs spasming. It invaded what was beautiful and consumed my heart. So it's intimate approach gave me my pause in exchange for it's name, blue, red, white............
on and on my fingers went. I was not alone, so it seemed. There was another who sat on the floor up against the wall with the white letting her face stand out.

The mildewed siding, the moldering studio, the crud, grime, scale and litter on the walls, floors, work surfaces. Old old old pennies in a bowl. By touch, the artist studied the groove in her forearm running from elbow to wrist, learned it in a quarter of a second using the dirty forefinger with the crusted nails thus ancient blackening paint, laid down in the whorls of her skin.
I was a happy little alien, somehow free to juggle this odd earthling identity with either hand.
It remained for her to feel the artist's stiff greasy hair on her neck, her chest, her gut, to feel her lips on her nipples, to feel the woman's shark-tongue.

We painted the floor,to smell the sweetest breath, which made her, the object of desire, by contrast, that much sweeter. It remained for her to struggle to pull the artist off, to fall back with platable vigilance. The white slide down her back and on her belly. Her feet lay in greem and her hair dyed blue and white. The oil bottle sat by the wall only to be used in a momments time.

she fell back with her ass in the damp old underwear and moldy paper towels on the floor, to wind her hands in the artist's hair and yank as hard as she could to learn if the woman's hunger was strong, and to find that it was, to understand that it was stronger than hers,then mine.
then we painted together for the first time.....
how lovley this is in all!!
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  • 2 comments
these images make less sense to me than when I look at them out of the corner of my eye, letting my attention immerse itself in a phrase or a description. It's a strong palette, full of color and images that ring true. I look forward to reading more of your observations.
:)
"sure sure"- Bjork,Dancer In The Dark.