The Kinky Cat Sex Series. Copyright 1988 Hugh D. Gamble Kitten With A Whip ================== Kitten with a whip, tail, swish swish, take what you will, get what you wish. Teddy bear in chains, spread on a bed; fantasy games, deep in your head. Puss in leather boots, rising thigh high; black rubber suits; making him cry. Squirm from the blows, writhe from the pain; but teddy bear knows, that he wants it again. Now pussy's all hot, from the power trip; ready or not, next swing's from the hip. Teddy bear sighs; kitty's on top; there's fire in her eyes, and the cat won't stop. The world explodes, her claws dig in; then kitty cat goes, cause she's through with him. Teddy's still tied; lying all alone; even if he tried, he couldn't go home. Kitten with a whip, tail, swish swish, take what you will, get what you wish. The Voyages of the Good Ship Censor =================================== The ship is white, her sails are square; though often slow, she's everywhere. Her name is boldly writ in back, "The S.S. Censor", in blood and black. You may not know her from the fore, she shoots, 'fore raising her flag of war. But when freedom has died and lost the fray, you know her name, as she sails away. She must be shunned, she carries a plague, wherever she calls, she brings an ague. Creative thoughts, quietly repressed, 'til nothing new can be expressed. It's not the seas are her domain, the sea she sails is your very brain. So do not dare be different or strange, for no-one's free from her far flung range. Even sailing winds of caution and care, of the ship itself, you must still beware. And when she catches a gale of hate, the destruction done is especially great. Prudence Bland is the captain's name, her cardinal rule, to keep things the same. The ship is crewed by fearful souls, they strive to play their appointed roles. Sex, is the captain's current foe, the open expression of love must go. But everything the captain hates, must be hid from all, behind iron gates. What can keep this ship in check? It's quite impossible to reck. The only hope, is to teach the crew, they have no right to blinker you. The captain never leaves the ship, but needs a crew, to frenzy and whip. The crew's still there to rely upon, and the good ship Censor still sails on. Special Eyes Through Mine ========================= No deep symbolism, just their physical self; free from their contexts of mind and face. Mediterranean blue rings on a pearl backdrop. The blue traced through with lighter blue; not mottled but veined with entrancing patterns. And in the center, a deep black hole of changing size. Sparkles, caused by movement and change of focus, beautiful. Those eyes when glimpsed, they draw, attract; met straight on, they mesmerize. Gazes locked, held by steel; a fascination of endless duration. A window to the soul? possibly, but wonderful themselves to me. for D.D. What Size Fish Pond? ==================== If I were someone else, I might start this with "Once upon a time ...", however, since I'm not, I won't. Instead, I will make the metaphor 'implicitly explicit', and the children can read some other alegory. This tidbit begins with the tiresome old saw about "Better to be a BIG fish in a LITTLE pond, than a LITTLE fish in a BIG pond". Now, if you agree not to be obtuse about the metaphorical mapping of "BIG" and "LITTLE", you will surely agree that, in absolute terms, it is better to be a BIG fish, than a LITTLE one. There are, of course, some caveats, but such are the spice of life, the absence of which, is death. Next, I tell you that I shall assume that the fish aforemention- ed in the cliche' which is central to my theme, are large and small respectively only in relative terms. In the belief that we now have a common ( and suitable ) inter- pretation of the phrase, I propose that, as an exercise, you, the reader, consider in depth, just why the masses hold this gem to be true. No fair reading ahead until you're finished. In fact, as with most overused, and abused sayings, the typical utterer is a mindless, or leastwise lazy, individual who doesn't think about what meaning he intends to impart to his witty ( it must be witty because he has heard it before, and everyone uses it ) remark. He just assumes that it is most profound, and if it isn't quite appropriate, that its' fundamental truth will compen- sate. However, supposing that this item were spewed forth sincerely, and with premeditated thought, ( as you were to assume for the purpose of the exercise ) just what is its' meaning? What this serious, but woefully unmotivated, individual is trying to convey is a feeling that the ideal environment is one where everyone and everything is lesser to oneself. Or, possibly one in which other large fish are to be allowed as well, so long as they don't represent a serious competitive threat. You could consider a cesspool a small pond. And if a big fish were in one, it would likely be the only one. Of course there are reasons for this. There are pleasanter places to be. Of course if if you're wishing, you could imagine an ideal little puddle. Sure, and if pigs had airfare they could fly. But seriously, there is no such animal as an ideal pond, ( Yes, I know that a pond isn't an animal, please bear [ But note that a bear ( Sorry about that. ) is. ] with me. ) let alone a small, ideal pond. The ecosystem of a small pond is more subject to fluctuation due to outside factors. And yes, the oceans are out there somewhere. While seemingly the ruler of the waters, the small pond fish is the most succeptible to unseen, uncontrollable dangers. But assuming that ( here comes another doozy of a phrase ) out of sight is out of mind, the small pond fish could lead a quite contented life. Until his water dries up. If at this point you say to the empty air, where I would be, were I speaking to you instead of writing this, "Well that sounds like a good life to me."; please don't repeat this to my face, else I will be forced to write a more profound treatise on the meaning of life. If you want a good, but not definitive revelation on the subject, you can simply see the Monty Python movie by the same name. The crux of the matter is that in a small pond there is no room to grow. Also, there is nothing around you to show you how to grow, or even to make you aware of the fact that it is possible to grow. Indeed it may be hard to realize that there are bigger ponds. And once over this hurdle ( and a hurdle is quite a hurdle for a fish ) there is still the matter of getting to this pond, and once there, how to cope with being a small ( relatively this time ) fish. But here you can grow, and wonder again, in time, if there isn't yet a bigger pond. It's enough to keep you working for a lifetime isn't it? Why should you bother? Where is the reward? How do they get the caramel into those chocolate bars? I don't know. You tell me. Of course, if you really want, you can read this to children before you tuck them into bed, but if you do: Be prepared for some killer questions. SexyWalky (with no apologies to Lewis Caroll) =================================== Stiletto heels click, click; I looked around to find them, quick. A long slit skirt a flash of thigh; a manxome lady cought my eye. A glance, a smile I'm urged to follow. I ruzzint resist I nod and swallow. The cute behind of this gorgeous babe did gyre and gimble in her wabe. A secluded spot; she turned and stopped. Her frollet slid down; a button popped. I sprung forth, there was no match for her most frumious bandersnatch. One, two! One, two! And through and through. My vorpal blade went snicker-snack! Then it was dead, and with its head she went galumphing back. Stiletto heels fading clicks; she strutted away her memory sticks. Scrap ===== asdf alphabetic soup soap sap sop up the letters. music is not what? why? so what? sex! now we're down to it. Cool Catwoman ============= You catch my eye as you're stepping down the street, then you look me in the eye, and I know we have to meet. I'm mesmerized by your feline stare, then you hold my mind, and you take me to your lair. Cool cat woman with your long lithe limbs, I go under your spell, and all else dims. Love me tonight like just a catwoman could, and I promise you that I'll be good. Catwoman, catwoman, purr for me. I know what I like, and I like what I see. You stretch your legs with a feline grace, then you stand before me, and I know my place. Wrap your tail around my head, and I think I'm in heaven, but I know I'm not dead. You lick your lips and you start to purr, oh, catwoman please, let me stroke your fur. Scratch me with your claws, bite me with your fangs. I've got a bad case of the catwoman pangs. An animal scream, and you arch your back, how much I desire this kind of attack. Then I rest in your lap all silky and warm, and simply admire your beautiful form. Whatever it is, your hold over me, cool catwoman I don't want to be free. The Lone Biker of the Apocalypse Earns His Wings. ================================================= A silent night reaches out and clutches at the barren land squeezing out the last remains of life. The stillness is an overwhelming din the future holds no hope the past has not begun to echo. A muffled roar from far away a long and straight flat road the silence recedes with even pace. The smells of oil and leather moonlight shines on chrome one rides here who knows no home. Not man nor machine, but partly both there is something harder here than the steel that makes the frame. Twin exhausts spit fire of gold and blue a lonely bloom on a dying cactus wilts with his passage. With the arrival of dawn there is a twist of a wrist and a dip of a toe the roar becomes an earth shaking rumble the biker rides on without rest. OUCH ==== A door down the hall that used to be open Then it was shut. Can't work, can't eat, can't sleep Twisting in my gut. A door down the hall that isn't bothered to be shut anymore. Noises that hurt; a giggle, a moan, or a snore. A door down the hall that no longer matters. There's still a big hole, with the edges in tatters. Waiting for ouchlessness. Poetry Sucks ============ Poetry sucks. Who gives a damn and what's in a rhyme? Form? Bah! Style? Bah! Imagery? Bah! Freeform garbage lacking all of those? Phooey! Artsy crap. If it doesn't sell, then it isn't entertaining. If it isn't entertaining, you're still free to write it, but don't complain, when it doesn't sell. People have the right to read or not read whatever the hell they feel like, and you have no right to push your shit on them. So either don't complain, or take a course in computer maintenance and get yourself a real job so you can buy a new car. Finis