Sinful Sunday: Red

I thought about the red sheets on the bed.

I thought about the matching red plaid pajama bottoms Mr. Scott and I have.

I thought about the Boston Red Sox.

I though about how I have my period this weekend.

But this is what I decided on:


See who else is being sinful this week:

Sinful Sunday


The Annual Flamboyance

When I saw this image for fdotleonora‘s Friday Flash, the only stories that popped into my head were also perfect for the EuphOff hosted by The Other Livvy. I’m a little late for Friday Flash but never call me late for a date with euphemisms and puns. z4OkkHaT

“Ah, the Annual Ornithological Flamboyance puts me in such a good mood.” Mr. Godwit clapped his hands together and breathed deeply, the fresh air filling his lungs and invigorating him. He parted the branches to reveal a clearing ornamented with a large birdcage. Groups of people lay scattered on the grass in couples and threesomes. Upon stepping from the path through the branches, Miss NIghtingale saw various states of undress among the ornithologists.

“Come along, my dear.” Mr. Godwit took her hand. “I’ve got a red-headed woodpecker to show you.”

Miss Nightingale was familiar with the activities of the Oneida Ornithological Society but this was her first year at the Flamboyance. Most Sundays they took walks to go birdwatching. But on the first warm Sunday of spring each year, they used a sheltered clearing to explore tits and cocks of another sort.

Miss Nightingale was exhilarated. Watching was encouraged and indeed some folks packed a picnic and brought out opera glasses for better views, rather than joining in the activities themselves.

Bits of chatter flitted through her ears as they wandered through the groups to find a clear spot.

“How about a flicker at your tit, mouse?”

“I’d like to peck at your red-capped boobies.”

“You say you have a cock? Is it a large one? There are few things I find more agreeable to look upon than a proud cock.”

“Would you like to admire my woodcock?” Mr. Godwit smiled as they settled on the grass away from the others. He pulled Ruby down to sit on the grass beside him. After seeing the others, she was anxious to be part of the festivities herself.  She unbuttoned her blouse and removed it.

“Lovely plumage, Mr. Godwit,” she said, rustling her fingers through his hair.

“Put your head to my tufted breast, Miss Nightingale. She nuzzled the down upon his chest.

“Miss Nightingale, would you like to search for my nice, fat worm?” She wanted to very much. She freed his worm, nicely fattened, from his trousers and pecked at it lightly before enclosing it entirely in her mouth.

“Oh, my sapsucker,” he sighed. “My nuthatch! My swallow! My little seedeater!”

Swiftly, she loosed him and rolled onto her back.

“Land your redshank into my nest, Mr. Godwit!” she cried out.

“My beloved Miss Nightingale! My cock will gladly enter your henhouse upon your gracious invitation, to frolic amongst the downy softness and provide you great pleasure!”

Later, they sipped from the nectar of the wine bottle and nibbled on the grapes while adoringly watched the rest of their flock enjoy the same. Miss Nightingale very much looked forward to the next year’s Flamboyance.


I have an aunt who is a serious birdwatcher. This story is the result of all the giggles I’ve stifled over the years listening to her talk of her birding. I don’t know how to add a link to a photo, so in lieu of clicking on the coffee bean below for more EuphOff stories, click here.