Beltane: Ray     *BELTANE: RAY*                               *By GILDA LILY*                                 (c) April 10, 1998                                 Woodsmoke burns,                               As do I.                               My loins are                               Wild                               With desire.                                 And there he stands,                               A dream come true,                               Tongue running over                               Rosy lips.                                 Ahh.                               The chanters flail                               Their arms and voices                               As they praise                               The Sacred Mother.                               Our bodies join                               In wondrous joy                               As limbs entwine                               And he is mine.                                 I fill his flesh                               With sacred passion                               And burn deep                               Within his heat,                               The Great Rite                               Of passion born.                               Pinch his nipples                               And cup his cock,                               Kiss his shoulder                               And plunge in deeper...                               Ahh, Benny,                               Let the Moon                               Shine down                               As the Goddess                               Beams                               Upon our love                               And the chants spiral                               High, high,                               Up to                               The sky.         ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com     Return to Due South Fiction Archive