Thursday, March 23, 2006


I just looked in my e-mail and saw that the Word of the Day was:
aubade \oh-BAHD\, noun:
A song or poem greeting the dawn; also, a composition suggestive of morning.
How very appropriate.
He knelt down at her feet, until she laid
Her hand upon him, like a naked blade,
And whispered in his ear: “Arise, Sir Knight,
To my heart’s level, O my heart’s delight.”

And there he lingered till the crowing cock,
The Alectryon of the farmyard and the flock,
Sang his aubade with lusty voice and clear…
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Emma and Eginhard
I woke up early this morning; Monsieur had been out taking care of the animals and came in to shower and get ready for work. For some reason, even though I was up until 2 AM last night chatting online, I was wide awake when I heard him come in.
When he got out of the shower, I had already slipped out of my jammies and was there to greet him, naked, with a towel.
“Are you going to take a shower?” he asked as I toweled him dry.
“After a bit,” I replied, “right now you’ve got something to attend to.” I smiled sweetly and put my hands on his shoulders. “Down, and kneel, good Sir Knight,” I giggled.
He looked at me, and surrendering to the inevitable, knelt. I put one leg up on the bathroom counter and, I must say, did his duty with a certain gusto that I truly appreciated. What is it about the French tongue?
After a time, or a few times, anyway, I pulled him up, turned around, grasped him firmly by the part of a man’s body that thinks more clearly in such situations, and bent over. He inched his way in and finished me off (again) quickly, then he slid out and I turned around.
“My turn,” I smiled, and knelt and took him. Hands, tongue, lips, all went to work on him with a passion. When I sensed that he was getting close, I held his hips so that he wouldn’t try to pull away. I needed this. He was gasping and started to move his hips, and with his size it was very difficult to keep him in, so I pulled off and held him against my lips and worked him, wetly, with my hands as I laved and kissed. I didn’t wait long, and he was soaking my face, neck and chest within seconds. Just then I heard Littlest Boy singing as he came down the stairs:
Itsy mitzi pyder
Up a wanna pout
Down in the train
And watch a pyder out
Up in a sun
And tried out on a train
And an itsy mitzi pyder
Want up a pout again.
Again! (repeat for 30 minutes)

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