I am a lecher. A lecherous man. A man who can’t control himself, a man whose devils have killed his angels. Is it biological, psychological, sociological, anthropological? Or is it not? Either way doesn't make a difference. I can’t live without it. I’m an addict I guess, that’s how they define people like us. But why did this happen? How did I get onto this path? Where is it leading? I don’t know. All I care about is finding something new, something untouched something that can be reveled upon and then ripped apart like a new set of gifts into glistering pieces. I decide to stop at many points but this comes up again like a ball that is forced down a pool. What is that I need, what is my cure? I don’t know maybe I’m cursed to live in this fire forever, maybe to die in this.
*
She’s with me on my bed. I see her breasts move up and down while she’s riding on top of my abdomen. They are not too big but they look like smooth hills with brown bulges at the top. I caress them gently and roll my fingers on the nipples. They become red, warm. She closes her eyes tightly while moving her head sideways and upwards, in a slow motion. I can see that her body is so white as milk with small black moles which seem like planted on purpose to make it more artistic. With slender arms which are on my shoulders, she moves her body slowly up and down, as if starting a fire in my vital parts. I hold her tightly from her waist and I know I will make deep impressions on her skin but I don’t care. I want her to take me as much inside of her as possible and then some more. I want to travel inside and get completely entrenched in the shell of her body.
I force her to get on all fours, and she obeys like a scared bitch. The long black hair hanging from her shoulders, make her look like a mare. Her behinds are so full of flesh like overfilled cushions only much softer, demanding attention. I pat them with my hand and they produce a crack sound. She looks towards me from the corner of her eyes, crying for sympathy but I know she wants more and she can’t wait for it. I hold both the butt-cheeks with my hands and part them to reveal her priced oversexed pussy. I take my finger and keep moving it along the surface of the pussy, as if testing it like a doctor. I feel every nearby area but never enter the cave. She can’t hold it any longer I know, her time bomb is ticking.
The wait is getting harder, my mind is getting heavier, and our hearts are beating faster.I pull her hair towards myself as I enter her from behind, with a jerk. Like a master I am commanding her when to stop and when to go start. She’s my slave. I put my hand into her mouth and ask her to bite and she bites as hard as an obedient dog bites on a bone. She keeps on biting until I’m forced to take my hand out oozing with pain and slap her face. She doesn't say anything. My whole body is trembling with joy and pleasure; small drops of my sweat fall on her hourglass shaped waist with accumulating on the bone running through its middle. I scratch the surface of her back as if it is my last hope of survival and I’m falling down a cliff, drops of blood appear. The rhythmic moaning continues incessantly until I fall on her back, tired after infusing her with my fluid, feeling little lighter, warmer, and wet.
*
She’s looking at me. No she isn't. Of course she is staring. Oh I love that. I love dusky girls with minimal makeup, black hair and shinning nose rings. This is the type I like the most. My penchant. I order 60ml Johnnie Walker whiskey on the rocks. I always like it on the rocks, when it has a strong flavor. Water erodes its taste and smell and I can’t tolerate that. I wonder what normal people think when they come to a bar. I can think of only one thing. Everyone has a life; everyone has a job and hobbies, hopes and dreams. I have only one.
I can see her pointed nipples. Maybe she’s not wearing a bra or it’s something else. They have come out after hearing a signal. She’s wearing a black top which is made up of a thin transparent cloth. Sometimes she bends a little down to listen to her friends in the crowded noisy atmosphere and I can see what she is made up of. How to devour her I know quite well and I can sense she can feel my presence. She seems fresh like a moist leaf in the morning. I’m sure when I will unpack her she’ll say continuously stop me and simultaneously help me to take her clothes off by rising her hands. Her treasure will be untouched and pious, and the perfect sacrament for my gods.
She’s smiling way too often trying to tell me something but can’t in the presence of her friends. Being drunk off course, she knows where to look. I am staring in her bottomless eyes with concentration of a black tiger not moving even a bit, not leaving any trace. My legs are folded above each other in a silly manner like a snake rolled around a tree in quite desperation.I get up to pay the bill and start to move towards her. She’s not looking towards me but I can’t look anywhere else. I’m about to reach her and she startlingly moves her head above, towards me. I take her head firmly into my hands and bend down to kiss her lips. Time moves a bit slower than usual.
Just as I’m about to touch them I feel a strong push on my ribs and I fall on the floor. It seems like a dream, with lights too heavy and the ruckus too loud to comprehend anything. I forget where I am.
--- to be continued ---
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