ite939435116
Posts: 12
Joined: 6/14/2011
From: Tennessee/Georgia/Alabama/Pennyslvania/Ohio
Status: offline
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The door to the chamber closes. My lover's soul is so intwined with mine that I can feel the pressure rise from his bellows. Yes, my lover is full of hard wood waiting for the touch of my manual stimulation to bring him to life - anxious for the touch of my hands to cause a howl which drowns out the rest of the world. Others have tried to pitch their 8” but they cannot hold a candle to my lover, who boasts at an 8’ pitch. Yes – it has been too long since we made love. Flood me with your soul, lover – let me pull out all the stops. Give voice to that which I have not words for. Let my fingers commune with you until the pressure builds to the point that you cannot help but to sing. Let us couple until you swell to a great cry. Let the others boast of their organ, my lover, for none else can compare to this. Sing for the world, my love, and let me share with those who can hear your cries of pleasure. You are the most beloved of all – the Highlander of instruments – the pipe organ!
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"Keep away from the edge." I couldn't remember who had said that to me, or on what occasion it was said, but oddly enough I remembered my reply with startling clarity. "Why? Why must I always keep away from the edge?" ~Susan Kay, Phantom
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My Lover - 
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