Dear Dirty Diary,
Brassy trumpets, thumping drums and crashing cymbals increasingly trespassed into the soundtrack of my most lushly sensual daydream. The brassy confusion of marching bands obliterated the wind's delicate whispering through tall pine trees as well as the plaintive cries of loons. My shimmering vision of sparkling blue waters surrounding our idyllic lovers' bed, perched atop a tiny rocky island, abruptly vanished as my eyes unwillingly adjusted to the familiar realities of our bedroom. My bleary eyes read 2:30 on the alarm clock as I questioned the reason for that horrible racket coming from downstairs. The acrid aroma of beer and pickled eggs and popcorn assailed my nostrils as gruff-sounding men bantered with authority and conviction. Occasionally more band music, the roar of crowds and shrieking whistles added to the complexity of the din. Yes sports fans, it was Superbowl Sunday! Gone was my image of Louise, the only person I really ever had an affair with. The sex games we three had played were still fresh in my mind but my husband increasingly seemed distant a lot of the time. In spite of my newfound friskiness Doug's actions seemed lethargic and sometimes I swear he looked frightened of me when we made love. So, I put on a sheer hot-pink chemise, sprayed my tender bits with perfume then strutted into the den. Bold as brass I stood in front of Doug and lifted my skirts so he could see how well trimmed I'd kept my pussy. I climbed up onto his chair, kneeled on its arms and straddled him. I reached down between my legs, unzipped his fly and fished out his penis. As I rubbed him, the scent of perfumed pussy and gamy penis flooded into my nostrils and I was primed for action.
As I squatted down on his lap I felt his searing penis burn through my moistening vulva. I hooked a spaghetti strap with my finger and pulled down one side of my bodice. I squeezed and milked the life out of my right nipple while I held back onto his knee with my left hand for balance. As I humped back and forth on him, that look of fear returned to his eyes and Doug reached for the Rolaids in his shirt pocket. He chewed down a couple as I carried on but that expression continued.
When I asked him if he was close, he shook his head then his eyes shied away behind me. Assuming he was peeking at the TV, I grumbled out, "Fine then, I see what's important in your life!"
"It's not you Laura, it's just this damned reflux all the time!" he appealed.
"If you didn't eat all that crap it'd go away, you know!" I bitched as I climbed off him and stomped away in a huff.
An hour later, I knocked on Louise's front door. Opening the door she seemed surprised to see me so soon. I was just bristling with excitement and radiant, carrying my plastic shopping bags. As soon as I got inside, I just had to tell her about the romantic swashbuckler movie "Zorro" we watched on the TV the night before. I told Louise that it showed Zorro and the heroine involved in naughty sword play, with him slicing off her blouse strap and slitting up her skirt almost to her privates! I explained that got me thinking that it might be fun for each of us to role-play a bit.
That morning, I thought of stuff we could use for props and brought them along. I shook out the contents of my bags onto the sofa. In one bag were two cheap rayon dresses, the flowery kind with the low-cut elastic neck lines that look like peasant dresses, a couple of elastic belts and two large scarves. In my other bag were two long slim English cucumbers, a bottle of olive oil and a couple of suggestive looking Italian Sausages.
"I can see where this might be going already." Louise remarked.
"What, that Doug's going to have barbequed sausages with mushy sautéed cucumber slices for supper." I saucily returned.
"You're so bad!" Louise snickered, as we giggled over the accuracy of my joke. "You called this stuff props, so explain this all to me, just so I know for sure," she requested.
I explained that one dress was for her, "Louise Lafitte", daughter of the pirate John Lafitte and the other was for me, Laura O'Hara, the Irish-Gypsy highwayman and whorehouse madam. The belts were to be scabbards for our cucumber swords and sausage daggers. The olive oil was to be the "Elixir of Submission" and the scarves were accessories for our outfits or whatever else turned us on.
I unabashedly stripped down completely naked then pulled my dress down over my head. For a classic gypsy effect, I cinched my belt around my waist, stuffed a cucumber under the right side and a sausage under the left. I fluffed up my hair and tied a scarf over my head, then struck a defiant pose.
With hands on my hips, legs spread apart and bare feet planted firmly; I spat out, "Well, what are ye waiting for, pirate wench?" I taunted, "Ye should be getting ready for the contest, or are ye yella?"
Somewhat demurely, I followed Louise as she scampered into her bedroom to prepare for our game. She took off her sweater and bra, tights and panties and kicked them into a rumpled pile by her bed. She tugged on her flirty little dress and put on her belt, stuffing in her weapons, but tied her scarf around her neck in French sailor fashion. Louise peeked at herself in her mirror and she said all that was missing was a little lipstick. She also decided that any gypsy worth her salt should be wearing large hoop earrings and crimson lipstick. In no time at all, she located the accessories for me and returned with them to the living room.
I pretended to be impatient, pacing about and slapping my cucumber into the palm of my hand. "You'll pay dearly for this tardiness, pirate whore!" I forewarned, shaking my weapon at her.
Louise tried to calm me up by lovingly tracing deep red lipstick on my pouting lips and clipping the earrings on my earlobes. I again struck my defiant pose for her approval. I strode in a circle around Louise, eyeing her costume. She jumped when I playfully goosed her bum with my cucumber. "No knickers, Matey?" I questioned.
"Oui, nothing underneath." she replied and mimicked my same proud stance with eyes glaring, hands on hips and feet firmly planted apart.
"If that's the case then, en guarde!" I retorted and sneakily gave Louise a quick slap on the pussy with my cucumber prod. She yelped in surprise, but when I immediately led with another quick thrust, poking her left breast, Louise learned to keep up her guard.
Firmly clutching her sausage, she used her left hand as a shield. Louise bobbed back and forth, crossing cucumbers with me each time. We practiced a few other basic Fencing moves on each other, but soon our seriousness led to giggles as we played pirates. However, Louise's quick moves soon proved to be a problem for me because my swaying breasts became an easy target. She quickly noticed that whenever she poked one of my breasts, I would immediately cover them up, dropping my guard on my lower body. I foolishly kept my widespread stance, leaving her ample opportunity for pussy pokes with her sausage.
Intimate little pubic jabs and painful little slaps to my hardening nipples soon forced me to retreat backwards into the bedroom until I finally backed up into Louise's vanity bureau. Realizing I was trapped against it Louise tried more aggressive swordplay. She slapped me on my left knuckle, causing me to drop my sausage, then knocked the cucumber right out of my grasp with a quick whirl of her wrist. Louise pressed her sausage firmly against my pubes, then hooked her cucumber through a strap of my bodice and flipped down the front of my dress. She centered the cucumber's tip slightly under my bared left nipple then firmly prodded it into my soft breast tissue.
"What now, my love?" Louise asked triumphantly.
