My friend Jarnot (now snowbound in Sweden)
insisted that at the start of the summer you had to indulge in THE GREAT MANGO RITUAL.
This involves sitting near a tempting body of transparent sparkling water - wearing a sarong or some diaphanous raiment, and eating a mango - a whole one - with your bare hands.
Juice must drippel down forearms.
Pulp must end up on face and other bits of exposed flesh (especially thighs - tempting company to lick them clean).
You must scrape the pip with your teeth and use up a whole box of dental floss extracting the fibres from your interstices.
Having sucked the marrow, and being covered with the scent and pulp of delicious fruit - you then shed the diaphanous raiment and dive - or plunge (ideally naked) into the tempting body of transparent sparkling water .
Rinse the mango, rinse winter, rinse cares,. Float. Enjoy saline supported pneumatic mammaries.... be glad that summer is here.
Last sunday I did just that. Well almost.
I grabbed an overpriced mango from the consort's kitchen and strode purposefully down to Fairlight pool. Well - even though it's just been renovated with a new kiddy proof fence (yep - round a rockpool - what a bloody joke) and covered with breeders and spawn - I sat, in my raiment (Well a hat, and a frock) and dove into the mango with my bare hands and spread the juice inside and out.
coz it was mid october and peak melanoma paranoia season - I maintained my raiment of lycra rash shirt and bikini bottoms - and plunged in anyway.
Saw the ferry cross past south head, and sighed. Watched the sunset as another mango in the sky and sighed again.
I dragged another mango to uni to split with my supervisor on some hot humid lunchtime encounter. OK the main quad ain't quite a harbourside pool - but the mango was cool.
sinney can be great at times.
this week - the mango has gotten inside me. Maybe it was the splurging on seven golden orbs at PAddies that did it (average price: $1.20 per unit - yay!!). Better than bananas. (but god I miss bananas).
So today - I feel gravid with life, like I'm bursting at the sams with joy and delight.
I feel myself frighteningly fertile. Horny as hell, willing to be split in two from the inside. To suckle, to sing, to screw, to spew forth sproglets.
fuck fertility is frightening.
I got used to the clucking and sniffing around babies, the cooing bovinely at pregnant or nascently babified women. But this is weird. I'm stronger than I've ever been phsyically. Fit, energetic, calm..... Full of life, growing emerging. Life pulses within me and wants to extend forth into mini me's...... Maybe this explains the poledancing/hose beast tendencies. Bloody ovaries!
I cross my legs, scowl and think pious thoughts about the tome.
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