An Ode on a Spring Day's Eternal Question

Discussion in 'The Bodyguard's Scribbles' started by The Bodyguard, May 16, 2018.

  1. The Bodyguard Pretty Spiffy [________] Humorist

    Blog Posts:
    Twas a late spring day as noted in the title

    and the yard was in full bloom.

    I had some minor work to do on the lounge chair

    leaving the yard work to a lively lovely lass

    who happily shed all her earthly clothing

    to scamper and pluck and prune

    and do all those things necessary

    for a yard to be in full bloom.

    And she was in full bloom too,

    with outstanding delights upon her chest

    that swayed gently, hung nicely,

    and gave one such as me sweet dreams

    when laid upon for all my naps.

    Wondrous curls that fluttered all down

    her back with every blessed movement.

    And there in the junction of athletic thighs

    was the most delightful entrance

    for my humble, but with helpful strap-ons,

    vigorous member she did hold so well.

    Ah, but the morning was still early

    and the heat well off so I lounged

    and sipped beverages she refilled

    without hesitation, taking the time to

    squeeze each nipple before me

    for drops of milk for the tea.

    Of course I took an ice cube out before

    and afterwards cleaned her well.

    And so the hours did move on,

    and she worked so diligently in the yard,

    ignoring the puppy's play with

    her own personal leash.

    Ah, did I not mention that as her

    only bit of apparel, but she wears it

    for whatever work there is,

    making the beds after she has been

    laid so well, or cooking or washing

    or crawling across the den to use her nose

    upon the big screen remote,

    saving my poor fingers such work.

    Ah, but the noon came upon us,

    and a glow all over her skin.

    She dug at a weed and heaved it

    over the neighbor's fence,

    knowing full well he was watching

    with spyglass from his upstairs room.

    And then it happened. Oh dear me,

    I spied it over the rim of a near empty glass,

    and almost spilled what was left on my shirt.

    I went over and stared down at it.

    She stopped her work and marched over.

    Together we paused to see the activity

    and then she departed for the shed.

    Soon returning with several items,

    and knelt down to pound four wooden

    posts into the middle of the yard.

    Then strung one end of each of four

    loops of rope around the posts.

    And then standing so elegantly beside me

    her voice so calm and melodious:

    "You want me belly up or belly down."

    I stared at the ant mound, and then at her

    outstandings and the delightful entrance.

    Oh, why of why, does she always

    leave such hard decisions like this

    to me?