He’s coming for me now, and he’s seeking my hide. His boots thresh the forsythia. His moody threats taunt and tempt. But he cheated first–deserved what happened. That’s my only defense.
He’s closing on me now, because I’ve pricked his pride. He thought he was so slick, counting to a hundred by tens. Wouldn’t you have grabbed the garden hose, when he had you hemmed in?
He’s coming for me now. It’s not my pride he’ll prick. That drip, dripping from his shirt pulverizes courage, and conviction drains away as I’m gathering my skirt.
He’s waiting for me now. He thinks speed is on his side. But I’m poised for the win, with galloping heart and tingling tush, scampering unhampered from beneath the lilac bush.
He’s charging after me now. I know my ass is fried. It isn’t smart to giggle. But I completely lose my mind, when he tackles me growling, “Now, girl, that smart little ass is mine.”
He’s got me squirming now. We’re exchanging moans and sighs. But, I wouldn’t call it cheating– this victory snatched from defeat. It was Mine for the taking when I stopped hiding what he seeks.
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