Often, when I am writing, you must imagine a dryness which betrays a face studiously kept straight. The tongue may be in cheek, but that is carefully hidden. Perhaps there is no tongue, or I may even not want you to know or notice.
At times the readers who comment underneath posts here do exactly the same.
As becomes clear when you think about their statements.
At 10:35 PM on Friday July 2, 2010, Curdishly Amphibious said:
"I am relieved that 'anal' elicits more porn-spam than 'cheese'."
Two things must be mentioned. The first is that I know who wrote that, and I also know that he is inordinately fond of cheese. His passion for cheese at times knows no bounds, cheese defines him and colours his life. Cheese is a great fever. He loves cheese. It is, quite possibly, the romance of the century. More passionate than Dante and Beatrice, steamier than Tristan and Isolde, with greater lust even than Heloise had for Abelard, the man who signs himself 'Amphibious' is a curd-kenner of immense proportion.
The second is that he lives in San Francisco. Where a large part of the population is all about anal. Or infected with anal retentia.
About both of which the less said the better.
This blogger is neither. I am by natural tendency AND by predilective preference much more in the cheese camp than anywhere near the latter two affections. "Bugger all things anal", I will say, "give me fromage".
Käse ist ein ganz schönes substanz.
"I am relieved that 'anal' elicits more porn-spam than 'cheese'."
It's fairly certain that that needs to be dryly drawled for best effect.
The drawl, if you will, is inherent in the statement. Whatever your personal feelings about 'anal' or 'cheese'.
It's all in the tongue.
You can do amazing things with it.
I've never understood why some people get their tongues pierced.
It seems odd and somewhat depraved to tinker with the organ of taste, or to affect its sensitivity with such ridiculous abuse. Even if the intent is erotic -- as it apparently is -- how is that purpose better served by a studded tongue than one in its sensuous floppety-slick natural state?
It's already an enormously sexual asset, flexible and exhilarating as it skips and gambols over the skin, without needing any added artifice.
The touch of a tongue should not be corrupted by anything hard and metallic, but be soft and slippery-silky. Warm, wet, and smooth.
If it has to be studded, use cloves, and stew it for a few hours.
That, too, can be utterly and sublimely delightful.
Even without cloves; they're not essential.
Especially with a glass of Cabernet.
Or, even better, Amontillado.
Sometimes there's nothing quite so erotic as a plate of lingua estofado, sherry, and a bit of cheese for after. Think of it as a little orgy.
With the right company, divine.
PS.: I've got a recipe.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
No comments:
Post a Comment