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- @BEGIN_FILE_ID.DIZ
- GARDENING & SEXUAL FULFILLMENT@END_FILE_ID.DIZ
-
- by Coco LaMestres
-
- CHAPTER TWO: WEED-EATERS & WIDOWS
-
- I was a widow at 19 and my daughter was a widow at 14. I have
- not seen her since she lost her husband to an Easter Island tour
- guide in 1970. I lost my husband to a machete held loosely by a
- raven-haired woman in Belize. The woman was a lesbian and she and
- I had shared many men and women in our village. We had also shared
- my husband, Rosario LaMestres, a caterpillar driver for a paddy
- construction company in Belize. When the woman, Verdida, took
- Rosie's life, he smiled as his head rolled to the earth floor of her
- shack in Belize City. The smile remained as the tawdry coffin lid
- closed shut on him and I believe remains to this day. (although
- I don't believe there would be much skin around the lips).
-
- My liasons with with the woman Verdida were legion in my
- country and their myths have followed me to the States. In fact they
- helped me get a job. I was in the Men's Lavatory of San Diego's
- nicest McDonald's, in the 3rd stall sucking the the cock of a very
- young hash-slinger (as big as a burro's and twice as fat! Carumba!)
- when my employer-to-be came in to adjust his toupee. I shall not
- go into the specifics of how I was blowing this boy in stall #3,
- suffice it to say I had tasted his wares up front, he was attracted
- by my khaki clothes and burnt sienna skin, and Fortune found us
- atop the Kohler Industrial Toilet fifteen minutes later (he rearranged
- his coffee break for me).
-
- My future employer, a card-playing industrialist named Owen
- Huntington, stood in front of the mirror and tried to reseat his
- poor-fitted toupee to his tanned skull. I was sitting on the Kohler
- with the hamburger maker's cock in my mouth (to the hilt of course)
- and spied Senor Huntington through a subtle crack in the stall door.
- I was intrigued by this man. I was trained in landscape engineering
- and knew a big penis when I saw one. He was wearing gabardine slacks
- and his bulge was uniform and pressed against the sink. He spoke
- softly to himself, almost sing-song, saying "No no no" and "uh-uh"
- and other spiritual American sayings. I could tell by his hands
- that he needed my assistance in maintaining his shrubs and lawns.
-
- My friend (who's cock was still in my mouth) had his back to
- the door and was therefore deprived of my vision. When the hamburger
- maker finally spurted his heavy load of semen down my parched throat,
- I had already resolved to help Senor Huntington. (Of course I did not
- know that was his name yet.)
-
- Being something of a practical joker, I reached around my hash
- slinging friend (he was moaning and shooting) and unfastened the
- door-latch. He tumbled backwards from me, his penis slipping up
- from my throat with a sucking pop, and landed on his rear-end at
- Senor Huntington's feet. "Dad!", he said. Senor Huntington scowled.
- I was hired immediately.
-
- My tools are my life. My weed-eater makes widows of the crab
- grass and orphans of the milkweed. The smell of gasoline moves me
- to wetness, and the blade of an edger brings me and my devotees a
- lifetime of inner-peace. The lawns at the Huntington estate were
- yellow and in need of prayer. The poolhouse was cobwebbed and
- held the dusty secrets of six ex-wives, widows all, in the
- metaphorical sense. The minute I entered what would soon be my
- living quarters for the next ten years, I saw a vision of my
- widowed daughter cast in the dust motes and thoughtless webs of
- the lives before me. I could smell the weeds no one had found
- since Senor Huntington's last Landscape Engineer. They filled
- my hot soul with a resolve to destroy them all, be it by chemical
- or blade. The chevron of my tight khaki pants grew wet with
- anticipation. Senor Huntington closed the poolhouse door behind
- him and unzipped his pants. A veritable HOSE fell out and looked
- back at me with its yawning cyclops eye. "Kiss Spike", Senor
- Huntington whispered to me. I knew in that instant, spurred by
- the blessings of my ancient Gods, that I would hold a razor-sharp
- hoe to his horse penis, figuratively speaking, and gain entry into
- a social circle that would learn to appreciate my gifts. My new
- career had begun. Coco LaMestres, Landscape Engineer & Personal
- Growth Consultant.
-
- I sucked Senor Huntington's 10-inch penis twice that night. An
- hour of my time, a lifetime of his pesos.
-
- Coming Next: CHAPTER THREE - SNAILS & SENORA HUNTINGTON
-
-
-