I lift my skirt, and my divine little almond, Armando, crawls beneath.

We are by the garden wall, under the shade of the thatched roof

Brother Girard made with his own hands, one summer of penance in his youth.

He weaved with the sorrow he suffered, when his love,

Sister Jobetta was sent by the Poor Claires

on the last Crusade to the Holy Land;

never heard from again.

There are extreme erotic provocations in the air on this sweet porch,

and today I am in a position both physically and spiritually,

to absorb the emanations.

Armando breathes deeply the odor from my privates, which fill the bell shaped sanctuary.

His tongue, that sly lizard, creeps up to separate the lips.

I gasp and sway, most beautifully, reaching out to grab the stone face of the wall;

encouraging the rough rock to scrape my soft hands as I cling for support.

::

Two ladies unknown to me pass through the garden adjacent.

I spread my fan, wafting it before my flushing face.

They see me and must think it odd I should be abroad, unattended,

this late in the morning.

I do my best to look pious,

so they, being women of breeding, will not choose to disturb.

My ruse is successful.

Indeed, they deeply blush and turn away from such devotion,

which, of course, is the proper thing to do.

::

“Quickly, Armando.”

He chirps in that charming way he does with his mouth full

 proceeding to insert his unique protuberance into my canal.

“Aaaaaahhhhh!”

I am struck most breathless

 by the insinuation of his lithe, ever-curling, ophidian organ

to the tender rivulet of my center.

 My obedient almond grips my satin thighs with his fingers,

bends his large head back, and opening jaws as wide as he can,

elongates his slender whip to touch the vital core of my ecstasy.

There he lingers; flickering, twisting, rolling the tip,

to stimulate the sensitive spot to spasm.

I fan in earnest.

A carnelian rouge spreads up from my breasts.

They heave in their cups, the veins stand out upon them.

I grow faint with the desire to flail my lower body,

to squirm uncontrollably,

to clench Armando between my quivering legs.

::

As the tension mounts unbearably,

who should present himself before me,

but Senor Delgado, late a suitor for my hand.

“Armando, desist and be still.”

“Dona Splendida! Ah! Fortune smiles.”

The overbearing oaf sweeps off his hat as he bows,

 feathers flying even as my heart.

Armando recoils his tongue,

 leaving my cavity leaking and hollow.

“Senor Delgado, what a surprise” -

I mumble,

 as he lifts from the waist to kiss my proffered knuckle.

“Without hope of possessing you, sweet lady, my life is one forlorn wander.

How often have I found myself in reverie of your beauty,

of a life at your side, passions unknowable….”

Savior and All the Saints, he is a dreadful bore!

As he rambles on and on,

 I feel my almond agitate beneath me.

Lifting one leg and then the other.

Hopping with understandable impatience.

::

Well I remember the first moment I saw my diminutive wonder.

My brother had returned from an emissarium to Persia,

being gone nearly ten years.

He brought back many procurements for our family.

Among them, a hairy ibex with horns so huge, its head bowed under the weight of them.

Bags on Mandrake root, ripped from the ground in the teeth of black dogs,

driven mad by the shrieks of the plant being so disinterred.

Two handsome Nubians from the desert near Egypt with bald oval skulls.

A pitiful Castrati from Greece.

And my dwarf, Armando.

::

My brother told us the tiny man was mute, but did not elaborate.

All we girls and the older females were enthralled with the dark men.

As we gawked in their direction, Armando unveiled his talent.

He became preoccupied with an insect, zipping around my ears;

following it with his eyes, stalking its erratic path.

It flew close to me, attempting to land on my cheek, when -

fleet as a dart, Armando let fly his magnificent tongue.

It reeled out like a banner.

The forked ends fluttering with the speed of the burst -

hit the buzzer with a snap – retracting so fast,

we stood to a person, slack jawed and frozen in amazement.

I fell in love on the spot.

::

Dedicated to his survival, I begged to have him.

This was heatedly debated between my parents.

Not that anyone else wanted him.

They feared he was a demon.

My brother assured us.

Armand had been a Fool in a noble court, now vanquished.

He was held in high esteem for his juggling, jigging and japes.

Since he could not speak, he betrayed no confidences.

My dear brother laid aside all fears

as to any perversity of nature the little man might hide.

So he was given to me.

Everything changed from that moment.

::

It took sometime to cajole my almond to be welcomed beneath my skirts,

and a bit longer to give him confidence to ravish me at will.

I bribed him with sweetmeats, soaked in honey, 

tucked into my fleshly pocket.

He dined. I swooned.

On more than one occasion we have been nearly discovered.

We often fall about laughing at how

 shocked my companions would be to know.

Climaxing during Mass is a profoundly religious experience.

::

Senor Delgado blubbers his farewell on my fingertips.

I whisper to Armando to resume his activity.

He trills happily, separating my labia with his minikin thumbs,

I feel his wiry tentacle worm its path along the pleats of my chamber.

Again I am heated. My pulse increases.

Eyelids waver. Breath shallow.

Aromatic dew collects under my arms,

behind my knees, on my palms,

above my lip.

Armando drums the plump globes of my bottom.

“Oh Armando, dear love.”

I say this softly so no one will hear.

He murmurs and growls.

My flesh erupts; trembles, shivers, vibrates, quakes.

I brace against the stones, spreading my limbs to take him in deeper.

And now and now,

torrents of orgasm wreck my body; I’m in a whirlpool.

Spun and throw back to the shore of the wall.

Armando is clamped on hard,

drawing all my fluid like a heated leech.

Swallowing the slick liquid,

lapping me clean.

Oh my, Life is fine.

 

::

 

~^~

 

thecodifyer

(c)

2008