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Tuesday, August 24, 2010


I was at a gathering in Branson, Missouri in the summer of 1984. After the business portion was concluded, we had a little get-together afterwards called "The Campfire". It was during this party that "A Roll in the Cosmic Hay" was read to everyone's amusement.

Happy to share it with you here.

By Jeff Williamson, 1983

From NASA, in Texas, comes word that both sexes are being recruited and taught
To perform all the tasks that the agency asks of a qualified astronaut.

They’re engaged in a race to put women in space and, unless we are reading it wrong,
When we mount a safari to Alpha Centauri, the ladies are going along.

When we bid such a crew bon voyage and adieu we might add, for whatever it’s worth, that in weightless condition, the act of coition beats anything known on Earth.

I’ve enjoyed a screw in a log canoe in the wilds of the upper Amazon,
and I’ve shared a bed with a French co-ed who hadn’t her pajamas on.
But I’m here to report there’s no grander sport this side of the Milky Way
Than the kind of sex you will find in an ex-----traterrestrial roll in the hay.

You can fiddle around through the long countdown to zero at main ignition –Erect on the pad – with, of course, old Dad in precisely the same condition.

But restrain your lust during booster thrust or the rapid acceleration may –
By loading too highly the membrum virile, produce premature consummation.

It is best to relax, to lie flat on your backs, and – to spare yourself exertion,
Await if you will, the sensory thrill, of the orbital insertion.

I had a go with an Eskimo on the shores of the Bering Strait, who insisted
I rub her with walrus blubber, before she’d consent to mate.
But I still contend- and believe me, friend, I am willing to guarantee -
That it’s not in class with the piece of ass you can have under zero “g”.

If she strikes you as cute in the Mylar suit with which she will come equipped,
Prepare your eyes for a real surprise when you get the thing unzipped.

Because bosoms that sag like laundry bags or hang like a spaniel’s ears,
In the absence of weight will consolidate into perfect hemispheres.

With no gravity vector around to affect her, each tickle-and-slap you give her,
Each pat of affection from any direction will set the whole mass a-quiver.

I have sampled the sweets between satin sheets in a canopied four-poster;
I went all the way, one Memorial Day, in the back of a roller coaster.
But I state, as a fact, that the sexual act that I most in my life enjoyed
Was a casual lay in a cargo bay in the intergalactic void.

Now, your average broad may be overawed by the gages, knobs and dials,
But she’ll get the hang of a weightless bang after half a dozen trials.

Try a loop or a roll as you gain control in maneuvering thigh to thigh;
You can steady your flanks on propellant tanks as the Moment of Truth draws nigh.

And when you and she have reached apogee and the pressure is off the plumbing,
She can point her knees to the Pleiades and wait for the second coming.

I’ve been bitten and clawed by a crazy bawd with a passion for flagellation;
She loved to raise welts on someone else in a bondage situation.
Now, I’ll grant that a tryst with a masochist can add zest to the commonplace,
But it isn’t a patch on the brand of snatch that awaits you in outer space.

Flash Gordon and Dale liked a good piece of tail when the forces of evil were scattered,
While to Wilma and Buck an occasional….kiss was the only reward that mattered.

The guys in Star Wars dropped the princess’s drawers whenever the chance was afforded;
Having mastered the Force, they employed it, of course, in a manner predictably sordid.

Once the shuttle lifts off into orbit aloft with a heterosexual crew,
Man’s greatest advance in the art of romance could occur by the time they are through.

We all agreed on the need for speed, so if they don’t hurry up and do it,
There’ll be news from the crews of Salyut and Soyuz that the Russians have beaten us to it.

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