Breakdown

February 18, 2012

“Only the gentle are ever really strong.” -James Dean

I shove him hard against a wall. The brick exterior scrapes the skin of my palms, but I’m too busy maneuvering my tongue to notice. Everything is so blurry. My arms wrap behind him while my lower body crawls up and thrusts against his. “Are we almost there?” I gasp before pressing my lips hard back to his. “Almost,” he mumbles into my mouth. I’m not sure exactly how I got here, but my body knows exactly what it wants. Which is good, because I fade back to black.

The first traces of sun glow through foreign blinds. A bicep lies between the back of my neck and a pillow, which is noticeably lacking in the firmness department. I turn my head slightly–two empty condoms on the floor. Looks like someone needs a package stimulus. And with that thought, he turns over and begins to hump my side. I’m still drunk enough to go along with it. But I fade out again before we get too serious.

“Hey, you,” he says as I force my eyes open into a squint. He stares into my eyes like we’ve known each other longer than the past seven hours. “Hi,” I say with that raspiness that comes with morning. It’s disorienting waking up in strange place. Or maybe it’s just the hangover. “I’ll be right back,” he says, getting up and walking to bathroom. Nice ass.

Trying to configure the puzzle pieces of the night together, I notice Read the rest of this entry »


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