April 8th, 2007

bird on faucet

Veselé Velikonoce!

every time i think spring is arriving, we get a cold, gray day. such is today....
did i mention the easter tradition here? the men hit the women with sticks? i was told it is to "beat out the winter so spring can come." hehehe

the pomlázka

from a czech cultural site:
Originally, it probably concerned a magic ritual in which only adults participated. It only became a pleasurable diversion over the course of time. Young lads went from house to house looking for girls (later mostly children) with Easter sticks of wicker adorned with ribbons. They flogged the girls and the women in the house with these. They gave congratulations and received painted eggs.
In many villages, it was an age-old custom to lie in ambush for girls early on Monday morning and to whip them so that they would be healthy for the entire year as well as cheerful and above all hardworking. The memoirs of the Prague preacher Konrad Waldhauser, who lived in the 14th century, bear witness to the age-old nature of the Easter whippings and the unaltered form they have enjoyed for centuries. He attests that on Easter Monday and Tuesday spouses and lovers whipped each other with rods and also flogged each other by hand. Those who were sleepy or slothful were supposedly thrown into water early in the morning or at least had water poured over them.

The reward has also changed - money and shots of plum brandy (slivovice) are often given instead of or in addition to painted eggs and candy. So by early afternoon, groups of happy men can be seen staggering along the roads... All that aside, Easter remains one of the most joyful holidays on the Czech calendar.

they also do easter caroling, similar i suppose, to our xmas caroling. eggs are not hidden, but given away. Monday, Pondělí velikonoční, is the day of celebration and the day of the pomlázka, while Easter Sunday, Neděle velikonoční, is the day of preparation. so..tomorrow should be a fun day to venture about. :)
the painted eggs are beautiful.
i am off to the market, but it just crossed my mind that it may not be open. i do hope something is.... need my vices of coffee and cigarettes.
don't fear death

I like the way she says yes....

Sometimes she will say yes very softly, on an angel's wings. She will slowly look away, face the painting on the wall or the petals in the bowl, listen to the twin promises of fear and ecstasy, then she will look back at me with total acceptance, no heavy resignation or fake petulance, she will look back straight and deep in my soul and she will breathe, yes.

I will hold her chin in the palm of my hand, I will drink her fresh baby breath, bring her close to me, her heartbeat a little faster, her heat a little sharper, nipple already blooming against the palm of my hand, her breast plump and heavy like ripe mango, I will squeeze her against me so that she feels my hunger, my forceful need to bite into her antelope flesh.

I will lick the back of her neck, inhale deep the promise of sweat in her hair, pull her nipple a little harder. Some times she will say yes with her mouth shut open, the gag fully stretching her lips, she will simply nod to the strict leather corset that will mold her into a plentiful sacrifice, to the tight ropes that will better force her to offer herself, to the whip that will help her sing new strange songs she never knew she could compose, she will says yes with her eyes in my eyes and I will taste everyone of her sighs, every sharp note of pain, every whimper of joy.

She will say yes by the tones of her skin, the sudden waves of red across the dunes of her belly or the inside of her thighs as she opens to receive my fingers, as she arches back to present me with the peachy fruit of her ass, she will say yes with musky releases of sweat when the pleasure is so strong that words are not good enough. She will say yes by carefully kneeling on the burgundy carpet, fragrant like an arum lily under the sun of July, place her mouth where my heat wants release, she will say yes by turning her head as I approach the bed where she is spread wide, she will say yes and yes again in her slow moans, her tight motions, without thinking anymore, her yes panting around my lips and my fingers, buckling against the ropes, grunting against my dick, each surprised whisper a thank you, each muffled scream an encouragement, each release a testimonial.

I like the way she says yes. The way she trusts me to play with her, to travel with her to places where joy is a rich blue note with a deep low pitch that travels every moist nerve ending, she is the giant kite with dragon wings, I am the rope that lets her rise and play and that safely brings her back. She is my music and my instrument. I love her.

i have had this for some time, but just re-read it and remembered how much i loved it.