LOVE HURTS:

It is a musky dawn in the lush glen.

The pheromone gnaws at his insides. He scrambles leaf to twig, sourcing the scent. There she is. All three inches of green desire. He takes four quick steps toward, one step back. Four to, one fro. She looks a mite interested, turning her head this way and that, coolly centering him into her optimal vision.

He struts. His flaunt, instinctively smooth and beguiling. She oscillates her antennae, flexes her abdomen, signaling consent. He makes his move. He would have preferred mounting her from the rear. Too many gory stories he heard about the foolish ones who dared otherwise. Surely this one wouldn't.. She seems different, looks exquisite: The green of her triangular head, her delicate neck. Limbs and wings in perfect juxtaposition at the thorax. Forelegs upraised as if in serene supplication. Her large multi-lens eyes now alternate with innocence, excitement, playful mischief even ? He looks into her softening eyes and walks into her embrace. She touches him tenderly. All over. Her kisses savoring his face.

He does his thing. She seems entranced. Lost. Body arched. Three minutes of bliss. She holds on to him. A little tighter than he would have liked.. He waits a while and pulls back gently. Her larger spiked grasper-arms draw him closer. Tighter. Her mandible nibbles at him again. Her eyes suddenly aglow with a new purpose. He panics, summons all strength, struggles. She seems to wake up, as from a reverie. Their eyes meet. He shudders. She holds his gaze, for a full moment, then she lets go. He scurries away, dazed, relieved, mind a-reeling.

She sighs a small content sigh. Grooms herself. It's a little too early in the day to be eating mates. He will be back. They all do.