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The Wedding Flowers
‘Rose, you’re reflecting under her chin again, nudge down here beside me a little more’
‘Oh Lily, but I wanted to eye the vicar again, he’s such a cutie!’
‘It’s a bit chilly in here, I’m thankful for that ribbon around our bottoms’
‘Me too, and that batty flower lady stuck a pin in one of my leaves, ouchie’
‘Isn’t she radiant, she must have amazing underwear on, her boobs look great from here!’
‘Lily! decorum, you’re meant to be serenity personified today’
‘Shh Rose, we’re getting to the best part. Seems Daisy has fallen asleep already’
‘Whoa, talk about dizzy, that hot bridesmaid just stuck her nose in my petals’
‘At least she’s not holding us so tightly, I almost turned from white to blue’
‘Hey, Gerbs, can you please stop swishing your petals in my face, thanks’
‘Daisy, you’re always complaining, behave, at least you’re not being tortured by children today’
‘Achyoo! Oh man, my allergies are playing up, it’s you lot, we’re so cramped’
‘Rose, you’ve got those non~prick thorns haven’t you? Can you scratch me, just here’
‘Daisy, wait, she said I do!’
‘Oh fantastic, let the party begin, I want to share some pollen with the groom’s pinhole flowerdude’
‘As long as they don’t stick us in the vodka, Gerbs’
‘Yeah I heard someone did that to our foreflowers last week’
‘Wallflowers they were not!’
~
Pea ~x~
Welcome to my submission for this week’s WickedWednesday.. The prompt being: Write from the point of view of a bouquet My participation this week isn’t Wicked, but, I did want to write something that made me smile hard. I succeeded. I hope it raises a smile with you, too. Enjoy.
Once Upon an ‘O’
~
The familiar ache, begins
a trigger
voice
word
a face
Closing my eyes, drift
a pulse
tingle
stretch
a moan
Decisions are reached, toy
a shuffle
wide
plunge
a click
Head pressed hard, against wood
a rhythm
vibration
friction
a click
Visions and voices, creep in
a command
deep
growls
a slapping
They swim in circles, like sharks
a click
faster
harder
a clench
Eyes, so tightly closed
a moan
whimper
shallow
a fucking
Mouth wide open, in the dark
a tightening
rubbing
creaming
a need
Silence, fills the room
a heartbeat
pounding
sweat
a spot
The spot, hit, again and again and
again
hit
faster
thighs
closing
tingles
concentration
silence
rising
fire
blinding
tight
snow
waves
electricity
body
rocking
volts
click
click
contraction
jolting
tiny
pulses
shoulders
relax
fuck
breathe
hard
giggle
purr
curl
smile
drift
slumber
~
Pea
~x~
No, means no?
~
No, please no, no more…
Oh, are you absolutely sure?
~
Maybe, maybe I could take one more..
Even if it draws essence crimson?
Am I pleasing you, Sir?
Now you’re just fishing and stalling
Strike four, rains down hard upon bruised raised flesh
~
Now, I definitely mean no more…
Oh really. Categorically?
? maybe…
~
Welcome to my submission for this week’s WickedWednesday. No excuses, but this was put together between my phone & my tablet & I’ve got hugely chubby digits..! Apologies for the lack of finesse I like to add to my posts. It’s taken 2 hours to even get to this stage & I still can’t get a link to work on Rebels icon! I’ll rectify tomorrow
click above to participate or simply to read other’s wonderful Wickedness..
Pea
~x~
Update: the lovely RebelsNotes popped onto my blog and added the link to the icon. Thankyou lady!
His Country Cunt
~
Rolling rhubarb fields
sure company enough
to swish away butter
from bowls, pastry puff
~
locks loosely pinned
50′s esque~pinny tied in a bow
bare feet, toes curl on flagstones
cheeks, hot pink from oven aglow
~
music is hummed
like bees around honey
air, thick with sweet scent
of tarts to fill hubby’s tummy
~
strong hands slip silently
seeking out hourglass curves
kisses planted, signs of 6pm
glass reflections, on her, he perves
~
pressing into fine rump
pushed forward, breasts dipped
nudging Cath Kidston cups
clanked a bowl, held eggs, she’d whipped
~
white cotton, pushed over panties
large greased hands cup a cheek
tiny whimpers escape, allowing
free hand, her nipple, a tweak
~
tarts ping, bodies separate
clotted cream is reached for
refrigerator glow, illuminates cunt
and there, he fucks his sweet domestic whore.
~
Pea
~x~
{WickedWednesday}
Ballerina
~
Baby pink net, purposefully slipped
past newly showered skin
tonight she is his private dancer
as butterflies flutter to indicate sin
~
His prima ballerina she is to be
lip bitten as her instructions are recalled
pink tutu, no panties and freshly smoothed skin
her submission, his, as words are drawled
~
Half~light catches the sheen of each owned curve
Remembering poise, she gracefully twirls
fairy like pirouettes paint shadows on the wall
and over her shoulders sits masses of curls
~
A delicate swan courting her mate
she displays plump lips, an inviting quim
deep breath taken in, rolls his shoulders, relax
he sips his whiskey and fingers glass rim
~
Coming closer, she dances, writhes and seduces
leaning forward, from her palm, blows a kiss
full breasts sway so hard he almost gives in
but first she sucks him to eye~watering bliss
~
Pea
~x~
Welcome to my submission for this week’s Wicked Wednesday.. The trouble I had getting it out there was something else!
The prompt this week:
~
So, I have taken this comment: Pea..I normally associate tutus with young girls. An older girl I would infer has no knickers on? I am envisioning a series of pirouettes.
It is from THIS post..
I hope you enjoy my words this week..
~














