Oh, yeah.
I can smell the woodsmoke
As it crackles and burns,
Hear the leaves rustle and shake
As a cool wind blows.
Back at home,
When I was a kid,
I'd troop along
With an orange bag,
Crinkling as I walked,
Crowing over my booty.
Here, now, my blood pulses
As he stands there,
A vision framed in gold
As firelight weaves
In soft hair.
The chants grow louder
As our hearts beat,
My limbs shaking
As I drink in beauty.
Can you feel the magic
In the air tonight?
Benny stands before me
Blue eyes ablaze
With crackling passion.
He reaches out a hand
And touches my shoulder,
Flesh-on-flesh.
The robes part,
And he stands there
In all his Celtic glory.
My heart beats faster
As the chants grow louder.
I reach out, enfolding him
His scent sweet, his breath warm.
Our cocks rub together
As I shudder, the blood
In my veins burning hotter.
My lips hover
Around a well-shaped ear.
"Don't be afraid."
My love for him surges
As I thank the Goddess
For this perfect lover.
The bonfire blazes,
Ringed by the fruits we've gathered
With the sweat of our brows
(And does Benny sweat
Like a sex-drenched god!)
Leering pumpkins and long,
Bold gourds in streaky yellow,
Apples fit for squeezing
As their round shapes bob
In a sudden breeze,
The rock-hard nuts
Scattered among the bounty.
Oh, Goddess!
Benny's hand touches
My secret place
And my strength
Fills his hand.
I can feel
My Roman blood
Calling from across
The endless centuries.
Conqueror of all
(And Celts in particular).
I grab him and take
What is rightfully mine
As the breeze blows
And the spirits howl.
I push him to his knees
The rosy mouth opening
For my manhood.
Gasping, I thrust forward
Deep down his throat,
His fingers digging
Into quivering thighs.
I feel myself falling
Into velvet liquid,
Stars dancing
Before my dizzy eyes.
The chants grow louder
As I approach explosion.
*No*!
My head pounds
As I pull away,
Cock throbbing, his eyes wide.
I turn him over
With bruising hands
And yank his legs apart,
His cry touching
My very soul.
In, hard, as fires burn
And he digs deep
In Mother Earth.
*"Don't taste it, Benny!*
I'd rather you taste *me*.
I groan, his voice
Answering mine.
Ah, yes, the Conqueror,
Rome's finest son
As the flames of war
Crackle beside us.
The Goddess smiles
Down upon us,
Joined bodies writhing
As sweat pours down,
Running into rich earth
That has borne fruit.
The Conquered gasps
As the Conqueror rams home
Exploding into
A thousand stars.
Seeds mingling
As I seal myself
To perfection.
The Jack O'Lantern
Leers bright upon us.
He is mine.
(*GILDA LILY*) (*9/27/97*)