by Susanne Mathies
(07/28/10)
We are quivering, our sides tightly squashed against each other. Hard round
bottoms touch the tender place where my stem is joined to my body, just as
my own lower curve touches the stem of two sisters.
The air around us turns from purple cool to lemony mellow. My skin starts to
prickle as the film of dew evaporates, leaving my surface squeaky-smooth. We
are growing bigger, rubbing hard rubbery skin against skin as our bodies are
gently pushing outwards. Trails of delightfully hurting burn spots travel
down my engorging berry.
There is a waft of heady smell. We are blushing, swelling with juices.
Crimson veins blossom in our moist flesh. I feel my tight skin can no longer
contain my warm pulp. I have to open up tiny pores on my bulging body to
relieve myself.
I am not the only one who is doing it. I can feel it, and I can smell it.
The sweetest aroma arises next to my stem joint, where the biggest of my
sisters has turned deep ruby. Her plump bottom nudges my stem. I cannot help
releasing my hold a little to breathe in more of her scent through my
loosening joint.
She presses closer, and I see that she wants me to play the dangerous game.
I take a deep breath. Her smell tingles a little when I first take it in,
then it ripens into a burst of sugariness with a tinge of something dark and
forbidden. My berry throbs with a fresh surge of juices. I need to move away
to save myself, but my stem-opening is out of control. It presses itself
tighter against her big dusky body. Her heavy perfume make my juices swirl
faster. I am growing, rising, swelling out of place. Losing contact with my
stem. Bursting.
