Thelma approached.
She
Looked
Me
Down.
“You be have’n the mango lemonade,”
She thundered.
I was taken aback.
My mind raced to be angry,
But indecisive meeting decisive liked what she heard and let it go.
Swaggering away
Thelma’s hips swooped
Whomp-snap
Whomp-snap
Her buttocks followed in slight delay.
Time Passed.
Thelma returned.
Built-in-bustle, dark molasses skin, over-blessed-bosom,
Whomp-snap
Her badges of femininity
Towered over me.
She watched as straw to my lips,
I took a sip.
Fireworks, sweet puckering, tongue tangling,
Taste-bud ecstasy.
Another sip…Nothing.
Another pull…Plugged.
Cheeks concave, vacuum formed, pressure building
Through the tube shot a mango bullet.
-Death by citrus perfection-
I slumped back in my chair.
