Little Young Thing

Black.

Curvaceous.

Lascivious.

Soft to a touch.

Demurring.

Obedient.

Useful.

Expensive.

A gift.

Can’t help but keep on touching her.

Everywhere.

I hold her close to my ears.

And whisper little nothings.

And she speaks my truths.

She calls out my name softly in the night and early in the morning.

She tells me soft tales.

And sweet white little lies.

And she knows how to kiss these silly lips.

I just mouth my desires.

And my command is her wish.

She has become my drug.

And I am a delirious addict.

I share my secrets with her.

She knows all about my little foibles.

So regal.

So legal.

Affectional soliloquy she bears.

I’m in love.

I’m in love with a young little thing.

She has become the other woman.

My smartphone.

 

Running on android system.

5 megapixel camera.

An incredible music player to sooth I.

High resolution display.

Wi-fi.

Bluetooth.

Loads of great applications.

Sadly I might have to stop this relationship.

My better half is not greatly amused by this little young thing.

I can easily tell from the evil eye she casts upon my little nymph.

A fine mistress without stress.

There she goes.

A young little thing.

Sexy as ever.

My smartphone.

This Nokia dreary thing won’t bewitch me.

It won’t be able to steal my imagination like the way that young little thing did.

My smartphone.

My young little thing.

 

©2012 Ayoub Mzee

 

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