our trip to monterey started out innocently enough this morning with me being 20 minutes late to pick people up. by the end of the night, however, we were pretending to be tiny cock mountain climbers in need of baked beans for the campout.
how did we get to such delinquency, you might ask. well, i think it started when i suggested people should go fishing for fudge in my cleavage. from there it was a logical progression to the fetish of being little tiny people having sex and exploring the body of your lover in minute detail.
you might start out at the toes, being all, ‘you’re so big. and i’m so wee. i’m just going to start here with this little tiny toe and move my way over to the big toe. then i’ll have to take a break for a bit because i’ll be a little tuckered out.’
after the break, you’d start up again, but you’d only get to the knee before you needed to set up camp and pitch the tent. at which point, it might become incumbent upon you to call up top, ‘can you send a can of beans down here?’ in a tiny little tinny voice. to assuage the hunger of being such a small sexual explorer only a fourth of the way up the body. and also to be a little bit of a brokeback mountain referencer.
today was a good day. a day of sunshine spent looking at fishes, otters, and octopi. i pet starfish and bat rays. the bat rays were kind of fuzzy even, so that was satisfying. there was lunch and dinner, a bookstore and fudge. and much driving with silliness by all four parties involved. and now there’s some pictures too.
