Ms Delia Sandsome never could get good sex. Except on
Saturdays and even then only between one and three in
the afternoon.
Delia searched for sex and found it in its many forms,
but good sex she could find only with Sardine, a
skinny, slippery, sallow-faced,fine-haired,
breastless, fifteen-year-old member of the female sex.
On Saturdays Sardine went fishing. Off the
docks, her family thought, but Sardine fished in
deeper waters. Delia Sandsome, beached pink-breasted
on a foamy white bed, her body laced, pinched and
puckered with satin (black or mauve), her perfect
heart-of-a-face glowing at the cheeks and blowing at
the mouth,was catch enough for skinny Sardine, who
darted like a silver fish between her cushiony thighs.
Oh yes! Well worth waiting a week for.
Zip, zip, zip went Ms Delia's legs, her toes
neatly pointed as sharp as scissor blades. Slip, slip
went Sardine, sliding in and out of satin flesh and
fabric. In, in, in she went, sometimes so far that she
nearly lost her way, as well as all sense of time, but
always there was a familiar hill,hollow or curve that
helped her, oh so very slow, backtracking retreat,
withdrawal, exit, escape from the labyrinth.
Once she thought she saw a bull's horn lamp
lit to light her way, but she never told Delia that.
She never told Delia much at all. Sardine's family
weren't the only ones who didn't know where Sardine
was of a Saturday afternoon.
Sometimes Sardine found a pink pearl in an
olive grove and held it in her mouth, rolled it round
her tongue and sucked it with pursed lips, or slid it
along the slit of her mouth, and then Delia held the
back of Sardine's head and rolled her head around on
it. Sardine loved the shiny pink pearl.
Other times, Ms Delia Sandsome grew muscles in
her arms and thighs. Her body hardened as she lay upon
the open body of the girl and the pearl magically
grew, they knew not how, and it sprang out of its nest
and pierced her. Many times Ms Delia penetrated the
young girl's flesh, spreading her nether cheeks with
firm, strong hands. Also, on some velvet afternoons,
the pearl, now pointed, now coloured cherry red,
dipped itself into the sweet waters between the young
girl's thighs, and at such times both persons glued
themselves in silent joy, lip to lovely lip.
This is good sex! Ms Delia Sandsome thought.
But it is not enough. I will find more. Though I
haven't yet.
And so Ms Delia S sallied forth in search. But
not on Saturdays.
