My Mockingbird had to have routine surgery Thursday (all went splendidly, and she is already healing rapidly and well), so the night before we went out for a feast to prepare her to fast from midnight until after the surgery. After we’d ordered, I excused myself in order to head to the bathroom to pee and wash up. So, I go in, turn into the first stall, unzip, and then Readers Mine, penis in hand, I look up at the wall above the toilet and see:
Marilyn Monroe by Milton H. Greene |
Marilyn.
Barefoot. Sitting low, almost kneeling. Bare shoulders. Heavy breasts only barely covered by a spill of white that becomes translucent as it covers her long legs. One hand rising from her lap to auto-erotically caress her collarbone as her eyes look up at mine and her lips part. In a wonderfully sudden and enormously powerful moment of eroticism, a bolt of electric passion surged from the oldest parts of my brain to the organ I held in my hand.
I’ve never been a particular fan of Marilyn Monroe, and while not unaware of her sex appeal, I’d certainly never been moved by it like this! Grinning widely, I resisted the temptation to commit the Sin of Onan on the spot, finished my business, washed up, and went back to join my deliciously sexy wife for dinner.
But I think I’m a Marilyn fan now. Oh yes.
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