Devil Girl Diaries – 13 (Taxi Ride)


Photo taken by moi.

Every man has that one unforgettable woman that will haunt him until his final day; the girl that got away. Allie detested television, vanilla ice cream, and missionary. She explored the depths of her sexuality; while I discovered the heights of my pain. My muse had a nickname. I called her Devil Girl. I write these words to ease my sorrows. My name is Andrew.

This is our story.

Dinner and drinks were over
Perhaps I had one too many
Okay three or four too many
Allie led me out the restaurant
In her high heels and tiny skirt
She hailed a cab
I found comfort against a lamppost
The cab screeched to a halt
Allie pushed me inside
Bumped my head as I entered
Once seated the cab sped off
City Lights flashed like a kaleidoscope from hell
I leaned my head back
Relishing the peaceful night with no antics
Her hands caressed my thigh
I loved these rare moments
She tugged at my pants
“baby, you doing what” I asked
She freed willy
I uttered more drunken words
“you no can do that inside cab here”
It was a suggestion
Not a dare
She did it anyway
I watched the back of her pretty head
My mouth opened to speak
cabbie adjusted his rearview mirror
oh, hell the what
my head fell back in ecstasy
I felt heaven
As I raced through hell
I love you Girl Devil

Until next week

To The Boobs At WordPress


Or you can join WordPress and you will feel their presence everyday.

Don’t get me wrong. Lonely Author appreciates boobs just as much as the other guy. But come on.

The Boobs at WordPress never cease to amaze me. Now, I no longer receive email notifications of new posts from the people I follow.


They may not think it matters, but it does to me. The Reader is inconsistent.

I just ran through the Reader and I saw no posts from Blogs I follow most faithfully. Nothing from Dajena, Tosha, Leslie, Meg, Geetha, Soeline, Carisa, Annie, Christina, Thomas, Lisa, Jacqueline, Jennifer, Lamarr, Marissa, Spiritkeepers, Bushka, Dr Colton, Siren Song, Souldiergirl, Miss Amelia, Mary, Suza, Monica, Sheila, Arohii, Chape, Paul, Bun, Jen. Getting Over Anxiety, Laurel, & so many others.

Should I assume they haven’t posted anything??

I follow everyone who follows me. So, imagine trying to keep up with 1000+ using only the reader.

If I receive email notifications, I can hold on to them until I have a chance to catch up with my reading. So I don’t miss a thing.

But WordPress Boobs continue to fix what is not broken.

Hey, I currently have about 7 Blogger friends you CAN’T comment on my posts. And So far, there is one Blog that I follow devotedly and my comments never appear on hers.


I tried to contact these Keystone Cops about these communication problems, but no reply.

Alas, this Chimp will find a new way to keep up with his closest friends.

I could only dream that the boobs at WordPress get an enhancement, perhaps some Big Boobs will make things better. If not, at least, they will be a pleasure to look at.


The Little Dress (A Short Story of Love)


The Little Dress

Fidgeting in his chair, he watched her try to squeeze into the dress. The little dress he so adored. The little dress she refused to acknowledge no longer fit.

“Just a little tug here and there,” she groaned.

He felt awful. Why did he suggest that dress?

She look at him with determined blue eyes. “I need help with the zipper?”

He stood behind the woman that changed his life. The woman that gave him children.

He stared at the stubborn zipper that would never close. How could he tell her she wasn’t a size six? Perhaps, she would never be a size six, again.

He kissed her pale back and sighed. “Honey, I was thinking, let’s not go to the party.”

She spun around. “You said this event was important.”

You are more important, he thought.

“What about the baby sitter?”

“Babysitter’s paid for. Let’s change into our jeans. Drive around. Maybe park in that little spot we used to park in to make out.”

“Are you sure?”

Uncertain he was doing the right thing, he embraced her. Across the room he noticed their wedding photo hanging on the wall.

His doubts evaporated, “Absolutely.”


Photo borrowed from google images.


My Choice

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My Choice

Why would I need the heat of the sun
when I have the warmth of your touch
so let your soft fingers caress my soul

Who cares about caviar or fine cuisine
I have you to nourish my aching hunger
just feed me loving from your breast

I don’t need a mansion or grand castle
If I had my choice the decision is simple
I would prefer to die at your doorstep



Photo is a selfie taken by Dominican model Karina Ovalles. Karina & her parents granted me permission to use this photo and others for my creative cause. Lonely Author feels a little awkward calling her my niece, since many of you know my daughter is my only living blood relative. She is my wife’s niece. But Karina and I agree, she is my second daughter and I am proud to be her second father.

My Secret Muse


Image borrowed from Pinterest.

Many of my posts were written after receiving inspiration from the great writers here in Blogville. Fearing I will accidentally leave a name out, I refuse to make a list of writers who inspire me.

True confessions time: There is one person who pierces my heart with every word she writes and they go directly to my soul.

Please, don’t ask. This chimp is a gentleman and he doesn’t kiss and tell. (Not that I ever kissed her). And I would never embarrass anyone, especially someone who I admire.

But this is dedicated to…..

My Secret Muse

Lovely words etched in my aching heart
Resemble sweet poems chiseled in stone
She pens tender verses for the multitudes
Yet my mind swears they’re for me alone

My secret muse writes for everyone
I wish her words were meant for me

Does she know her words echo deep inside
My restless soul trembles as they resonate
Her words stain tattoos on my beating heart
With just one glance of her prose I levitate

My secret muse writes for everyone
I wish her words were meant for me

Dreams On Hold


Photograph taken by unknown source. It is the only remaining photo of Lonely Author’s mother.

This is for every woman who made the sacrifice of putting their dreams on hold.

Dreams On Hold

Once upon a time
She met a man
Placed her dreams on hold
She slaved for a boss
Ran home to cook meals
Birth a little treasure
Years of housework
Abuse and neglect
Devoted herself to husband’s pleasures
Sacrificed for everyone
Gave up everything
Including herself
And her happiness
Her boy is living his dream
She missed the train of life
Everyone left her behind
She lived unappreciated
Sad but so true
People forget
Little girls have dreams

First Sight

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First Sight

It didn’t matter how many times he looked at her
He’s seen that smile a thousand times before
He was familiar with her morning breath
But for some reason he always needed more

It didn’t matter how many times he looked at her
Routine days followed by repetitious nights
So many times he saw her at her worst
Each time he admired her it was love at first sight

Photo taken by this happy chimp.