BALLOONS AND BLACK LICORICE
© Mimi Wolske, March 2014
All Rights Reserved
As years passed, the less he understood what
happened to his best friend, Trevor, that day.
He had become a turbulent helot
in sweat-filled lust...without his repartee.
He watched Trevor transform and parading
As a sex toy for his Black Licorice;
In and out like some drum major wielding
his baton wildly so he'd accomplish
All she demanded for those balloons
And a taste of her sweet Black Licorice.
On an overcast day, while he communes,
It happens...it was straight from some Irish
War epic. Trevor unzipped; she bent over.
With grace and ferocity, she vacuumed
All parts of him; as a victimizer,
She devoured...poor Trevor was consumed.
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