NEW BERLIN - Making the Moon Turn for the Housewife, one at a time. A Halloween story.

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by Doris and Don Dawn
#NudeMinds 2018


Remember the guy who sold us a Half-Volkswagen worth of pumpkins and potatoes from his own fields? He lives in the village next. And just called to say 'I know what you're doing in your second live.' Then he politely invited me to pose on his pumpkin filled fields. This Wednesday evening. On Halloween, yes.

Sharing the news with Fotomann, his eyes glow of mischief. "The fat guy with the pumpkins? He knows that you're posing naked, does he?"

"He told me that he knows everything, that he is a faithful fan on my sites. On all of my sites."

"He'd require a VPN to access your hardcore content. Hmm--"

"You'll have the opportunity to ask him. I wish to go. What do you say?"

Hesitating a bit, Don looks at the floor, on the walls, through the window in the kitchen, at this adorable little orange tiger fixing us from the sill on the veranda side. He says to me, "very well then, I didn't see this coming. And what if he wants more than photos? Will you fuck him?"

"You're jealous, aren't you?" I sense a mild electric charge spreading around the backside of my thorax, left and right. "I like that you care for me. However, it is you who taught me about cuckolding. I know you have a compulsive desire to share me with other men. But, at the end of the day, he can't fuck me. I already told him about my boundaries. This unless you wish to offer him a handjob or, maybe, a blowjob?"

My husband's eyes grow bigger, wider, worried, more and more. "Okay, okay. Was just saying. No handjobs. No blowjobs. Neither of us will make contact with the host of the pumpkin field. Okay with you?"

"Ah, well. As far as I know you, and your fans, there comes a moment when men's minds turn off. You've learned to master that kind of power: turning men on, nether on, and minds off. Your charms, candid as they go, work like a breeze of spring --in one's pants, and like a fog of winter --in one's mind."

"You wish to say something?"

"I wish to say that when I watch the poor guys, drooling at you, loosing their control, I kinda feel empathy for them."

"Empathy? Really? Those guys fantasize to fuck your wife, and you--"

"And I know that you won't fuck one of them. You're such a tease. Yet not a fuck. They call me the lucky guy, dreaming for a bite, visualizing, picturing themselves in my shoes. Thus, I dunno how, my subconscious enters this game, suggesting some kind of reward, a handjob, maybe a blow. Dunno."

"Don! Hope you don't wish to blow the fat guy with the pumpkins." Horror on my face. How would I kiss my foolish hubby? Horror. Horror!! I can tell you that.

"I won't blow the fat guy, Doris. Calm down. Not even a handjob. Because I plan to bring a new gadget with me, to run some tests from his pumpkin fields."

"A new gadget? What gadget?"

"A scalar cooler."

"What's a scalar cooler? Ah... those lightning rods you're talking about. How many of them? Twelve, I guess. Uhm, thought that you'll leave them for my bean plants. Oh, and also to serve as a most needed screen for the casual voyeur climbing on roofs."

"You'll have them back for your bean grid, and for the green screen of your desire. Just let me bring four of them with us. Wish to plant them in each corner of the pumpkin field. To make a square."

"And how do you expect to stick those three-meters long rods into the ground? The earth is hard, and rocky. You certainly know that. Well, not as much as I do, must admit."

"Does the word scalar ring a bell? See this cuff? I've got several dozens more." With a hand gesture, Don invites me to the Atelier --our unfinished business. Then up the ladder --where I have to climb ahead of him, always, don't know why. "Here, look."

"These are female screws. Well, quite voluminous, but nevertheless. What's the big deal with them? Why do you call them cuffs?"

"Ah, there's a mystery in every little thing and you know that. My lovely bunny." I return his grin with a wink. Yes! It seems to me that I do nothing and some guy --on the other side of the planet-- gets excited. "You are right, these are ordinary nuts. Stainless steel, chrome and nickel --to which I've added bismuth ferrite so that..."

"How?"

"How what?"

"You painted them or what?"

"Ah. Not exactly. In the cauldron."

"My cauldron? The one that I use in summer to cook our treasured national dish?"

"Exactly. That very cauldron. It hangs nicely in the opposite corner of the garden, far far away from the house. I placed the sphere inside it, grounded, then I feed the signal through the ports inside the carcass. It generated a directional beam. Sort of painting but from inside out. At the atomic level of resonance."

"Like 3D printing?"

"You got it. My classy cougar. See? This is the mystery of your irresistible moves. And faces." Could sound as a compliment, but I know, deep inside my soul, that he's over his ears in love. Yes. A force coming from above, or beyond, or both? That I can't understand. That I can't control, nor undertake. It's not me. But it's on me, around me. All I can do is giving thanks, being grateful and --trying some empathy, not much!-- considering giving a blowjob to the fat guy with the pumpkins. What a crazy and dirty and despicable thought! Shhh, can't tell Don about it.

"Too late, honey. You're keeping a bismuth baked nut in your hand. All your thoughts continuously copying to my mind. As they arrive into yours, unfiltered."

"Damn. Sorry, Don. I didn't mean it. I definitely don't wish to suck on any cock, other than yours. Forgive me. Please!!" Puppy eyes.

"Forgive you for what? For a rebel thought? That is not even part of your consciousness. That landed on your mind just like that. Coming from nowhere."

"From nowhere? Why not from somewhere?"

"There's no somewhere for naughty thoughts. Naught to naught. Null to null. Nothing to nothing."

"Oh well, again your cosmic existentialism

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Written by dorisdawn
Uploaded November 7, 2020
Notes Invited by a secret fan to spend Halloween together with his wife and my husband. Making the pumpkins drum while reading thoughts, mutually, and giving the Moon, all of it, to the wife. To the housewife. Liberating her. Will your moon turn too?
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