AFRODISIAC (alert: not for the prudish)

AFRODISIAC

Hey, it was lonely on the island
Living solo, slaving six nights slingin songs
My friend went stateside and brought me a present
Something Special
a vibrator – not just any vibrator, mind you
The biggest, fattest, most finely articulated, blackest dildo in creation
“He’ll keep you company,” she winked naughtily

That night, I tingled, mind wandering amid music
about the wonderous wanker wand
I named him Billy Preston (it was the 80s, mind you)
Billy was waiting for me
under my pillow
ready for our first close encounter

Finally home, just the two of us.
Billy, meet Betty (don’t ask)
Working our way into a complete union
Then I flipped on the switch
and screamed (but not in a good way)
Billy Preston had an impressive thermonuclear engine
Not a purr, nor a roar – something more excessive
like a jet revving before liftoff

I pulled out fast
(now, that’s weird for a girl to say)
and in my haste to extract the genital buzzsaw from my fertile forest
I flung it clear across the room
He landed in the wastebasket, still cruising at 120 mph
The basket overturned and Billy Preston was
“goin’ round in circles”
like a poodle on double espresso

Poor Betty still flinches when she recalls the trauma
Doc said you can’t treat a twat for PTSD, only VD
But she was gently cajoled and healed
by the real thing
eventually

© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil