Trying to stay indoors on a day like this, Conflated with Kubla Khan

It must be like a young woman entrusting her body to me. Globally and complely. Complete, complete, Completely exposed. Nude, not naked. In full sway and completely away from the boundaries set by white men. While I play. My mouth and it's devilish tonguepice. Full of options. From which I select. Resisting the will of the centuries and its armies. Fuck them. I'm out to play. Fully. At. Play. Like looking out the windows into the tease of Autumn in late August. Staying put just because I can, goddammit. The wind won't be denied. But I'm not the wind. Trying to stay indoors on a day like this is like . . . not putting it in. The pleasure dome of Kubla Khan fully decreed, teasng the vulvic gates, withdrawing to spank those taught muffins, above and below, then the turning over, and returning to the gates, "where Alph the sacred river ran, in pleasures measureless to man." "The greater the resistance, the sweeter the release," said the wise old Frenchman at the beach.