Her vulva was like a nest
the slit – moist and slick
salivatingly shiny.
Her belly moved up
and down with her breath,
heavy with effort.
The pheromones in the air
made the surrounding stamen
thick and firm – bristled and
sticky.
Sticky with lubricant and oils,
aching,
she groaned softly
as the stream of soft, pearly, eggs
spit out of her slit – her folds
opening like petals
petals of an exotic floral being.
The voyeuristic spores and fog of the cave
added to the musk
as the eggs rolled themselves to the sticky,
sticky stamen rising,
reaching,
stretching like tendrils,
like tentacle tongues
writhing and wanting
a taste.
A taste of her –
golden and mild
like savory, salt jelly.
The eggs rolled and spread themselves
along the shafts of the hungry stamen
like jewel berries
adorning a butter knife.
