When she was a little girl, her father built her a tree house. She felt blessed and enchanted.
As she grew, she wondered if, instead, it was a curse. No one treated her that way, no one seemed to share her visions. All the boys seemed to be such bubblegum stuck to the sole of her ballet slipper.
Finally, she gave up. On boys. She met a woman, a creature of infinite possibilities and charms. The girl wondered if she could be falling in love with this beguiling beauty of a woman. This woman took the maturing girl home, and both of them were sure. The woman lived in a tree house, a tree house like the girl had never seen, never even imagined. Inside this magic tree house, the woman kissed the girl, kissed her lips, kissed all the way down her body, to her other full set of bee-stung lips. She kissed these, too. Oh, how she could kiss! And the girl once again felt so blessed and so enchanted.
And they lived happily ever after.
(I’m not going to make this into a blog that publishes recipes and talks about the weather. But, every so often, I may post something that isn’t overtly sexual. Just because this gives me a spark of joy, like butt stuff does. I know that this is radical, but I hope you can accept it. Enjoy!)