Sub’s eyes opened wide and her heart raced as she saw the erection before her. Never before in her life had she seen the actual thing. Pictures, dubious websites and some videos had given her some ideas when she was younger; but now seeing the real thing, being so close to it, made her legs weak and her mind race. It was grand, rather larger than she had imagined. No photograph she had seen did the real thing credit, and certainly had not had the effect on her as this did.

It was superb, rising almost vertically before her eyes yet seeming to lean towards her, beckoning her to touch it, to run her fingers along its polished shiny sides.

From a distance the erect column was about six times its diameter in height, strong and robust at the base with what seemed like parallel veins extending along the first sixth of its length, here the colour was richer, darker hue of almost honey brown fadeing into a lighter flesh tone along its length.

There appeared to be seven ridges around the column all equally spaced. Sub’s eyes drank in the intricate detail of the surface of the structure. It seemed to have been carved out of solid marble, with a polished shiny surface, yet ridges were formed along its length. She had never dreamed she would ever be so close to it as this.

The cap was quiet magnificent, being of different diameter to the main shaft of the column, it was darker and shinier in the evening light, giving it a reddish hue. An elongated slit window could be seen at its tip and what appeared to be a balcony surrounded this end piece. Sub had a deep urge to run her finger tip around the balcony and to place her hands around the delicate but monstrous column and to hold it vertical and upright.

However with people around she would be embarrassed to do so. Instead she had her friend take a photograph of Sub standing in front of it. Proof that she had seen the actual Leaning Tower of Pisa. 

THE FIG FRUIT by (any other name)

Slender, soft and round

The bud of promise at it’s head,

Smooth, yet textured and dark outer skins

Protect the softer more sensual layers within.

Slight pressure on the fleshy surfaces

Opens her up with subtle sounds

The skin slides apart exposing

A pink and crimson interior

Of lush, soft, moist flesh.

As the inner fruits separate

The detail, the folds, the softness is revealed

Moist with nectar sweet clinging liquid

Carries the odour of expectation

Glistening, translucent bonds span the parting flesh

Squish, a sound of parting petals, puffy with passion

From within a scent, an aroma of invitation

The perfume headier, the closer the mouth advances

Tongue extended and contact made

The reaction is of an anemone, as

The flesh folds away and the tongue seeks deeper depths

She closes around, exuding juices, odours and flavours with sensual softness.

Saline slaked segments of succulent softness

Fingers squeezing the outer covering encourages

Droplets of delicious dew,

Of delightful decadence to drip upon the searching tongue.

Colours changing, pink to crimson, almost blue in their hue.

Delving deeper the taste is sweeter

The flesh is firm with fern like fronds.

Exotic ecstasy emitting oozing juices

Shine, sticky, clinging, enfolding as saliva does.

The consumption ecstatic, climatic and explosive

Total fulfilment of the promise is delivered.

Such a wonderful fruit is the fig.

Me