Wednesday, 26 June 2013


He clamped so hard inside me I felt like it was more of a twist with thorns rather than love. Until his eyes met mine and I was lost inside his amber of mercy. Digging deep, thorns pushing through the thin shields of skin and then, that silent but, oh, so gentle release, digging hard, like he found gold, like he did something special. He looked at me, not in me, just at me, with that wet greasy grin, those teeth gathering saliva, like he helped sort out world hunger...

And then those wise words;

"Was it good for you?"

That moment of dispair.

Because lets face it, I just wanted him to get it over with.

But replied with; "yea it was "good" - if only I had two hands free from my humility and portray the quotation marks he deserved.

I turned towards his soaked face with a creepy grin (not that he'd notice my forced creepiness) and gave him my 'It was amazing' eyes. It was all kind of Freudian that was less than grey.


And his bony figure rolls away from me. Satisfied.

"Good... I was worried you didn't enjoy it."

My mind?

You fucking right I didn't enjoy it you fucking little bony loser with a so called penis entering my most sacred zone and fucking me like it was a gift from father-fucking-christmas.

I looked over to him, and, well, lied. Again.

"Yea man, it was great thank you."

His sweaty protruding chest recedes and passes out.

Last time I fuck a little ****** man from the Bronx.