Over the next few months I intend to film the various sections of the Blackpool Tram route.Will post the sections as they are completed
May also edit a single version which is the entire tun in one video.
Here is the first section I filmed.
Will arrange them in journey order as I progress through the shoots and editing.
All videos are shot on an iPhone 6, edited using iMovIe.
First one up:
Little Bispham to Bispham and Bispham towards Uncle Tom’s Cabin
G D A E
Give me your mind, let me turn you on.
Mentally
Sexually
Emotionally .
Forget about the world, all those problems.
Do strive to be fulfilled, satiated.
Give me your body, let me enlighten you,
please you, release you.
Drown in desire, quick, slow, slow, slow.
Delighted in my touch, my moves, my words.
Let me play you,
from a slow movement to a scherzo.
I’d help you to feel:
Generous
Gentle
Decisive
Delighted
Alluring
Assured
Ecstatic
Emotional
I’d caress:
your breasts
Your mouth
Your mind.
The way she approached her research
tenacious
never gave up
thorough.
It was always a pleasure
to work with her.
Sense of humour
confident in her abilities
professional.
Yet…..
The way she ate a melon
had always made him
smile
she knew the effect on him.
He needed to have her
at his table
on a picnic
by a pool
on a train
in his car
in his bed.
//////////////////
Eating FruitTight, pink and wild, they sway to a gentle movement
stretched over a bed large enough to satisfy anyone.
Only the gentle sound of sighs broke through the silence of the morning,
as an accompaniment to the soft sound of the amber flesh
used to arouse and awaken.
Oh, to taste from tip to toe.
Of knowing when to start,
to sharing what you know.
Fruit always tastes sweeter in the glimmer of first light.
When hands, fingers, mouths are slow and bodies are tight.
To taste the flesh with the tip of a tongue,
To open and reveal,
To caress, to excite, a simple touch of delight.
____________
You Say you want to Break Up
‘Break up’, you say you want to ‘break up’. I would fall apart, fall to pieces, become a fragment in your story. Do not fracture my heart, shatter my illusions or splinter my soul.
You say you want to break up.
Perhaps we could explode, blow up or blow ourselves apart; better than letting it crumble, deteriorate, decay, decompose at a slow, slow pace.
I don’t want to rot in your memory, perish the thought, or collapse into an emotional wreck.
You were such a wonderful degenerate in bed; I think we should teeter toward an informal bust up, rather then be smashed to smithereens.
I say I want to break up.
____________________
The Conversation
It started with a strawberry, cream and grapes.
It swayed to the beat of possibilities, subtle possibilities.
A short line here, an extended line there, a pause.
Suddenly it received a second rush of energy
with the arrival of a mango.
It developed and drifted onto a higher plane
but later the rain pushed in, the energy drained away.
Later it came, with the wave of a steady hand, to a satisfied conclusion.
_________________________________
The Conversation – two
It started with a stroll through the park,
then quickly developed into a situation which created a spark.
A thought passed through a mind to excite, to receive an invite.
Someone not too far away imagined cries, deep sighs, a movement over thighs
as the situation meandered through non verbal communication.
Remember the lost lover’s lament
Be kind, turn on a mind, let a seeker find.
….somewhere; only problem is that we could be dealing with thousands of miles of travel as opposed to someone who lives just around the corner.
For some, their soulmate might be in the middle of Moscow. Not cheap or easy to get a cab back home to Blighty from there.
I did Moscow by bus once to see a soulmate: not too difficult.
You take the 32a from Victoria, a 33 out of Paris Nord, change at Stuttgart to 7b, then a Moscow bound 2A. Though the last time I did that journey my soulmate was out!
It was along time ago, as Dylan said, ‘but I was younger then than now..’
I was a man of action: climbing mountains, dangling from helicopters, fighting wolves…
…. and that was just to get to my job at the BBC studios in Shepherds Bush.
Was it worth it for the romance? Er, not after three days on a bus. There was a long way to go before the caring, loving, sharing would start or surface.
On the Moscow bound bus we had dogs, monkeys, tramps all riding for free on the roof…. and that was just the number 49 bus from Sheffield to Victoria.
Moscow Monica was kind though, she shared food, she would have meat, fish, fresh fruit which was rare for Moscow. I sometimes survived on cornflakes and fruit.
Her house was modest compared to St Johns Wood but it was home for her and at times the garden shed was where she she wanted me to be …. but I’d rather not say what went on there. Though I can tell you, I soon got rid of the goats, I wasn’t sharing a bed with those characters.
Anyway, as you the reader (well I hope you’re out there somewhere) will have guessed it didn’t work out. Love is all you need is not true, you need a shower, bed, cotton sheets, a kitchen and food other than cornflakes everyday. Though at times breakfast was romantic apart from the one eyed cat sitting on the table waiting for you to finish your food.
I did the journey six times. Monica did warm to me eventually but then two guys, hunting types, from Outer Mongolia arrived. Is was either me or them. They had guns, knives, horses. I had two out of date copies of the Radio Times. Who would a girl choose?
I returned to Blighty, head intact, heart in one piece, my foot in plaster.
The Plaster?
Well, we did have sex in the garden shed but have you tried that with six goats looking on and and a scythe hanging from the wall? Don’t try it, it was a foolish idea.
As the Russians say,..
goats in the shed,
comrades in the bed.
_____________________________________
Start of an occasionally series of writing short stories in one session with little editing.
_____________________________________
A train can travel fast or slow,
the driver needs to take care,
not too quick, not too slow,
driving is an art.
Her hand slowly slipped off the table,
to slide down to find that part of him
that would please her, tease her,
release her.
The train roared on, driven by a driver
eager to get to to the next part of the journey.
Her hand always found its destination.
Timing is important,
never work in haste,
a driver should be considerate.
The speed of the train slowed,
an assured hand in control.
One cannot arrive too quickly.
The arrival is everything, full of expectation and pleasure.
The joy of a journey travelled and attained is everything,
never to be rushed or taken for granted.
She never set off too early,
she was experienced in the art of travel,
a woman who never raced to her destination.
Each journey travelled she was
aroused,
fulfilled,
satiated.
She slowly slipped into my life
then later she slipped into my bed.
My dangerous woman,
bright, quiet, quick witted,
driven to make her mark, to make a change.
Not easily shaken,
She drives on, a forward movement
until she reaches her goal.
Her daily illicit affair with data, rolls on,
nothing is consigned to paper.
Her eyes scan, decode,
Her fingers caress the keyboard.
Tenacious, relentless.
Not a woman to suffer dangerous people.
Fingers upon her keyboard ease their way
through the maze, to avoid online traps.
There can be no easy road for her.
It will always be a long, winding journey,
Often travelled, seldom with an end location.
Yet in bed, she is……
Carefree, a willing lover,
a relentless lover in pursuit of pleasure.
A kiss, a caress, my slow movements to
reveal her, reassure her, to undress her.
Another kiss, at first short, then long.
A slow caress to open her mind, her senses, her body.
Her perfume is intoxicating,
I want to drown in pleasure
to make her high, to entice her.
My red headed lover sighs,
needs to be taken on a sensual journey,
to be sexually, emotionally high.
Her whole body needs my touch.
I caress her breasts, move my mouth down
to caresses the inside of her thighs.
My tongue slowly opens her,
to relax her, release her.
Deep in bed she slowly slips her thighs around my waist.
Now I push, slow, shallow, deep, slow.
Her her whole body quivers with delight,
slow, shallow, pause, deeper.
—–
Russian Lady
She wanders around the
streets built by Caesar.
Alone, driven by a desire
to find an emotional home.
Quiet, inquisitive, a seeker
of something she cannot explain.
She feels, she writes,
seeks a fulfilment
that is always beyond her grasp.
I wonder about her,
wish her peace;
hope she finds what she is looking for.
A love deep and sincere.
A home warm and clear
of strife and fear.
—————–
Seeing that sex robots are beginning to make an appearance, I decided to re-write a classic song.: Sex Oddity
slateone 