Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Apart from the scene's sensualities, the sight of three playful girls, lips enclosing around the strawberries, tongues fondling the redness while the assisting suction of indrawn breath convinced the fleshy fruit to release the fullness of its juices to mingle in the mouths, there was also something horrific about it. The boys at the party, of course, felt wildness rising in their blood at the oral-erotic sight of it. Captain Phrang, on the other hand, shuddered while watching his men die by such devourment. An hour earlier they had all cheered with euphoric glee as their cantaloupe-like space vessel swooped in over the strawberry patch. They saw row after row of their kind, lined in the traditional parallel lines signifying welcome in their green watermelon world. They landed in a garden, their cantaloupe blending splendidly with the abounding floral colors. Through the wide patio window of the nearby structure they located the bowl of their fellow beings. Captain Phrang sent his three ripest men to make contact. They had commenced mingling in the bowl of strawberries, when one by one, the huge voluptuously-lipped creatures began plucking them from the coliseum-like container. He winced with each enclosure of lips around one of his men. Pacing nervously up and down his cantaloupe craft he wondered how in the world he would ever explain this to their wives.