Song: Big Rock Candy Mountain by Harry McClintock

Scenario: by Angelpie, 5.22.02

Apolo looks over at the maze of shoes and laughs. 

“Hey aren’t those T’s shoes?” Apolo asks as he places his shoes upon the marble floor, facing west. 

“Yeah.  Who else has doll baby feet?” I say. 

I look over at him, sucking on a Blow Pop, looking for the shoes of friends he can bust on tomorrow.  My stomach tightens and I get that warm tingle that always means I will be sore the next day.  Apolo offers me a lick and puts the sucker gently in my mouth. He slides it in and out of my mouth.  He cocks his head to one side and winks at me.  I lean over for a soft sticky kiss.  Hmm . . . watermelon. 

We walk up the stairs.  Me behind him as usual, so I can keep my eye on that fine ass.  He stops to pick something shiny off the stair.  He bends over.  I can’t help myself; I lean over him and bite him through the thin fabric of his board shorts.  He yelps. 

“What the hell are you doin'?” Apolo asks as he whips around. 

“I couldn’t help myself,” as I give him my most pitiful look. 

“You’re fuckin’ weird sometimes,” he says as he shakes his head and laughs. 

The door shopping begins.  We bicker over which door to choose.  We finally compromise and stop at the chocolate brown door. Apolo is blowing a big ass bubble as we enter.  Our eyes widen in amazement.  Apolo’s feet are starting to lift off the ground.  He grabs me around the waist.  We lift higher and higher. 

Apolo takes the bubble out of his mouth and holds onto it with his left hand. 

“What the fuck?” we both say in unison. 

The veins pop on his forearm as he struggles to get a good grip on the bubble.  He tightens his arm around my waist.  The view is spectacular.  Flowing rivers of liquid chocolate.  Green, red, and yellow Swedish Fish jumping.  Lilies made of nougat growing in rose petal jam. There are big rock candy mountains where marzipan rams sparred with each other then licked honey out of a puddle.  We float for what seems like days with our ankles entwined. 

“Uh oh,” Apolo says. “Storm ahead.”

 The thunder clouds of marshmallow cream were blowing and banging into each other causing so much vibration that Apolo lost his grip on the bubble. 

“AAAAAGGGGGGGGGG,” we yell as we hurtled towards the ground. 

I hold Apolo’s hand as tight as I can.  We grabbed onto the red vines that were racing by, but they were coated in early morning dew and kept slipping from our grip. We finally hit the ground, sat up, and looked around. Our fall had been cushioned when we landed in a giant pool of flan.

“Hey this is pretty cool,” Apolo says as he starts to bounce on the firm flan. 

My breasts are putting on quite a show.  I look over at Apolo who is entranced. 

“Snap out of it caveman,” I say. 

Apolo crawls over to me, each knee leaving an indention.  With the storm still raging, I pulled Apolo over on top of me.  As we wrestle we sink deeper into the flan.  Sweet candy kisses up and down our bodies.  The storm clouds pelt us with Cubyrop.  We run for shelter.  

The storm eases up raining big fat drops of Dom Perignon.  It melts my cotton candy sundress and Apolo’s cherry fruit leather pants. We tilt our heads back and drink in the heavens.  We ride the giant slide into Whiskey Lake and swim for a while, he teaching me the proper way to do the breaststroke, with my breasts.  We get out and lay on Pixy Stix Beach.   We go back and forth with the lemon wedges and maraschino cherries licking the Makers Mark from our bodies. Our bodies lying entwined, dozing in the sun. 

After our little rest we decide to go exploring.  We come upon the legendary Fountain of Turkish Delight.   It is dazzling; shimmering so bright we have to shield our eyes. Legend has it that after drinking from the fountain your capacity for sexual pleasure increased ten-fold. 

“Apolo get your head out of the fountain,” I scold, as I dip the golden cup. 

He pulls his head out and wipes off his mouth with the back of his hand.  I lick the drips off his hand. 

Back to the main Music page

All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2002 Dark Blades.