Warning: Teenage Mutant Turtle Porn

Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree Curves.

While racing off to work Friday morning, I ran out of the house in the rain, hopped in the car, backed up three feet, and saw something…odd…in  the grass that Shannon better mow this week or else. I couldn’t tell what it was. I thought at first it was a log or a limb in the grass. Then I knew I was going to be late for work.

The Long-Awaited Honest-to-God Secret to Being Happy

I just  happened  to  have  a  camera  close  by  and snapped several shots, all of them far more explicit than this one, which I’ve purposely reduced in size.

I don’t think the camera can adequately  capture the male’s laid-back attitude or the female’s will-you-give-us- some-privacy-puhleeze-cuz-I-didn’t-consent-to-being-photo’d-and-exhibited-online-thank-you-very-much glare. They’d been like  this for some time, apparently, judging by the  pine  straw  that  had fallen  on top  of them.  I’d guess…hours.  Did the boy have a little Turtle Viagra? I guess turtles make love veeeeeerrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyy  slowly?

Technically she’s  able to drag him around like this. Kinda like skiing or maybe surfing? Hmmm. Cowabunga.

So what’s with all the wildlife crawling up to my door- step  to   fornicate?  Luxuriously   long,  slow  turtle  sex. Bunny quickies. Squirrel ménage a trois.

The only logical conclusion  is that with no sex going on  in  my  house,  there’s  obviously  a  cosmic  void  that Mother Nature is trying to fill and the lack of sex in my house is like a vacuum  that sucks in  oversexed  critters within a two-mile radius. Like I said, the only logical conclusion.

Either that or Shannon needs to mow the lawn.