I can see her salivating as she stares at my exposed pink porkhole. “And I’m going to let him. In fact I’m going to hold your hole open for him. You’ll look so good filled with his cream my darling piggy boy” “This is your handwriting isn’t it Mommy?” I ask, with an unconscious hint of seduction in my voice.“Yes it is. This is Mommy’s special recipe. I wrote it while you were showing me around your rectum with the speculum last week.”“Please don’t cook me Mommy” I say with some trembling in my voice. “I’ll be a good piggy and keep all of that horsey cum nice and safe in my bottom” “Goooooood BOY. Yes you will. And then you will let mommy spank your jiggly butt with my steel paddle until you’re nice and tender”“yes Mommy I will, please don’t--”“and then you will lie down all snug and bruised in my lovely warm, soft pie crust” As she says this a small wet spot forms between her legs and she swallows hard.“Okay mommy you can tenderize me and put me in the pie, but--”“And then Mommy is. Jason knew very little about Allison. He had no idea what she looked like. All he knew was she was a young woman getting her doctorate in literature from the University of Boston and had now made the uninvited five hour trip to his cabin in Maine. She had emailed him eight months earlier telling him that she had discovered his poetry in a used bookstore in Cambridge and knew instantly she had to do her doctorate on his work. She said she was “blown away” by his poetry. Surprised and delighted by her enthusiasm and desire to study his work for her PhD, he agreed to answer some questions and help her in anyway he could. He also told her how much he valued his privacy and time and might not always be available. All of their emails had been focused on the poems in his earlier books, the techniques he was experimenting with and his use of metaphors and imagery, but also what was going on in his life at the time in an attempt to put the poems in context. Jason was impressed with how.
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