Strips
Tall Tank Tales
Life Is Beautiful
There’s no manual. No one will tell you. Ya just have to figure these things out for yourself. I didn’t know. Who would, after all?
Comet hits. Life as you know it ends. You just start over. Re-learning things that no one should have to know. These are my dreams. I wake each morning with thoughts of "what was" that begin to mingle with "what is" as I slowly rise to consciousness. Depending on our location, Booga and I will sometimes sleep outside in a tent - sometimes just under the stars. Sleeping in the tank is a drag. Claustrophobic and harsh. A bed would be nice. Very nice.
Before the comet, I lived in a house with a lovely bed. "Lovely" is not a word I use often, but it really fit. It was a lovely four-poster with a decorative sash and drapes that enclosed the queen-sized feather bed. It was a divine place to wake up. Much better than waking as a bug crawls across your face. Or an over-adventurous bird takes a peck at ya.
I do ok. Won’t complain too much. I’m alive. I’m healthy. And best of all... I’m loved!
This morning Booga rose before me. We found ourselves in a safe-zone last night, so we slept under the stars. Waking in an old rotting sleeping bag is not quite the feather bed of my previous existence, but I said I wouldn’t complain.
Booga is so sweet. When he wakes before me, he sneaks off to make breakfast. Unfortunately, he only knows how to bar-b-que, so breakfast takes on a new meaning, but could you ask for more in a well-hung kangaroo! I think not... :)
It’s these quiet times in the morning that I actually find myself filled with a passion - a self-passion. *giggle giggle*
Nude from last nights drunken shag, I push back the sleeping bag and let nature swoon over my body. I twist and turn, stretching my weary bones. Sometimes Booga and I take sex to new heights that I pay for in the morning in the form of tired muscles and unknown bruises. A price worth paying - I think. Sitting upright, my breasts feel perky. My nipples are erect - oddly enough. I stretch my arms above my head, arching my back pretending curious onlookers are ogling me with torrid thoughts.
A few birds cackle in the trees and the wind gently stirs some debris. Just the sounds of nature are evident. Some people would call that a delightful vacation. Fuck them! This is just life. Life post-comet. I’m complaining again aren’t I? I’ll stop. I promise.
Not quite ready to face the day, I lay back down on what’s left of my ratty old sleeping bag. The feeling of being totally alone in the midst of the wild Outback always makes me horny. I mean, you wouldn’t walk out of your house in the morning naked, would you? I didn’t think so, cuz some one might see you. Out here; not a chance - usually.
In the serene seclusion of nature, I often fantasize that I’m putting on a show for an on-looking crowd. It sounds slutty, but I see so few people (and I’m fucking a kangaroo!) it becomes an overwhelming notion. Good fantasy material. Rilly rilly!
Laying on my back, I raise my legs high, slowly spreading. When I reach my limit, my knees bend and my feet come to rest on the ground. I can feel my gun-belt under my left foot. My big-toe caresses the trigger guard on the pistol. My outstretched arms reel in toward my breasts, stroking my hardened nipples pointing up at the blue sky.
The morning wind is often just cool enough to be soothing. Today it feels very soothing. As my hands caress the length of my body, I recall never having abs like these before the comet. Of course there’s a world of difference between surviving in the wild and going to the gym. either way, I’m in peak physical fitness... for what that’s worth.
But days of going to the gym are behind me. The cool breeze blew across me actually leaving me with goose-bumps. Wow, I must be horny!
I reach between my legs and feel the moist patch that Booga adores so much. I feel myself open up and my index finger hones in on that delicious little spot that sends me into orbit. Booga is equally adept at locating this spot - that riley roo of mine. But lets not go there...:)
Verbally, that is. Cuz I’m "there" right now and it feels wonderful. I begin to dig my feet into the ground beneath me as my body starts to take on a life of its own - writhing to the beat of an unheard symphony of euphoric delight. [that was sappy. where the hell did that come from?] My thighs begin to tremble as my body quivers and an orgasm shoots through all my senses - including my aural sense. I heard a noise.
Snapping up my pistol, I barrel-roll onto my belly and pull the trigger!
BANG!
Immediately I noticed two things:
- I’m covered in scrambled eggs.
- Booga is standing over me, wearing his apron, glaring at me with a disapproving look.
Then I thought several things:
- How did he sneak up on me?
- How the hell do you make scrambled eggs on a bar-b-que?
- Will meals ever be the same now that I’ve shot our bar-b-que grill?
Before I could rationalize any of this, Booga offered a piece of advice.
"Food. Its much better in you... than on you."
Then he walked away muttering something unkind, but I know he loves me. And I love him too.