Wednesday, July 6, 2011
The Farmer's Daughter In Her Pretty Pink Shorts
I was looking back through my archives and found a post from a couple years ago when the same thing hit me.
I'm really barely thinking rationally at the present time, so forgive me if I'm unable to properly analyze the situation. My hands are trembling, my knees are knocking, I have perspiration on my forehead, and I dare not even mention the unmentionables, except to say they're obviously fully functional.
I feel a terrific howl coming on -- God, this has to be what The Werewolf feels like just before he loses it. But I'm going to try to retain my composure, if simply for the sake of my self respect while setting forth these things in the public square. If it gets any worse, I will simply have to give up, erase what I've written so far, and return to my room, where, frankly, howling will be the least of my activities.
I'm looking at the picture there. O God, that's The Farmer's Daughter! Look at those legs! I feel like I might howl! I'll look at the top, at her beautiful face, with those ruby red lips! And the eyes! She's looking away, how coy, what a temptress! That's it, I have to howl!
I believe I'm having a moment of serenity and lucidity, so let me just say, rationally, that The Farmer's Daughter touches on a very serious archetype in the male psyche. She is a rare mix of essential innocence and experience, away from urban life and yet close to the life spirit of nature with her connection to farming ... and breeding...
Surely another look at the picture wouldn't hurt my lucidity that much. That little red earring seems out of place in the Earth Mother/Farmer's Daughter archetype, and yet ... and yet, she seeks to attract a mate. She scans the horizon, drawing her mate, drawing me ever closer, ever closer, I feel a strange pull! I can't resist! I'm overcome!
I've had to crawl, inch myself along the ground to avoid The Farmer. And now -- success! -- The Farmer's Daughter and I are in the barn. And once again I'm focused on that cute little neck. I make a quick glance downward, then up and our eyes meet and I'm caught! She arches her neck back, as if to say, "Take me!" Oh! Oh! You're going to have to excuse me...
And yet -- O God, forgive me this one last time -- as our arms meet, and as our lips find each other, and as in our embrace I feel the fabric of her cute little pink outfit. Our eyes lock together and they remain locked as she pulls away, backs up, and reclines against a bale of hay. I look down at those beautiful Farmer's Daughter's shorts ...
Those gorgeous, lovely, fantastic, ensnaring, commanding Farmer's Daughter's shorts -- the loveliest pink -- speaking of her girlishness as well as her full womanly attributes. It's the whole package! I look on, knowing the full invitation is but moments, seconds away. She writhes, the beautiful pink Farmer's Daughter's shorts are putting on a show for me, she's really exercising the cloth, the cloth -- that pink cloth -- is really getting a workout. It's -- it's -- almost -- too much for me -- It is too much for me!