peaches

You get tired of all those plums and peaches in lesbian erotica. Peaches are always popping up in sexy poems and stories, to suggest breasts, cunts, succulence. You try to avoid them, but she's making you fall off the wagon. Peaches are all you think about now--their juice, their sweaty rilled pits, their fuzzy fuzzy faces. Falling off the wagon with all those ripesoft peaches rolling around, bumping fuzzily into each other, cruisin for a bruisin. Peaches and cream everywhere you look, thinking, she's peachy keen. At the farmers market you're offered a free one, bite into it and squirt the farmer in the eye. You buy 2 baskets. In high school your friend's mum is a home economist, she makes 12 peach pies in one afternoon. You eat a piece of each, to be helpful. She asks, which did you like best? They're all GREAT! you shout, double over and throw up on her shoes. Seems like you can never keep peaches to yourself. And now this girl tells you she really hates peaches because one time peach Kool-Aid came out of her nose. Instantly you develop a crush. Instantly peaches are important. Very, because all you know about her is two things: she is a goddess and she doesn't like peaches.