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04.27.2017 | 11:01 a.m.

The writer becomes the narrator:
is she trying to impress me? her body moves in slow motion and it's hard to describe if she is sexy or disgusting. Where do you draw the line? at the curvature of her stomach is where I begin. I want to make something of this after all but just starting with the description of her stomach is what gets me. I begin to feel the heaviness of the ordeal as my eyes drop to her belly-- round and full of champagne. she is trying to maintain eye contact with me as she dances closer and closer. the shoes come off. her leather heels are trash. I can smell her pussy through her wet underwear- she must've pissed herself multiple times tonight before we ended up here together.

The narrator takes over:
we met one another outside of a club in an alley way. she, on her knees, facing a brick wall and pounding it hard with her fists. she was growling like a rabid animal in the throes of demonic possession. her hair curled violently into the air as she swung back-and-forth. I walked up to her and took a cigarette from a pack that had been discarded from a torn leather bag. I grabbed a lighter that was on the ground next to her. I noticed the street lamp tinting her tanned legs. tattoos adorning her sexy plump limbs. my first reaction was to grab her hair and to slam her head against the brick building- to sodomize her in the alley and leave her for the birds. but when she noticed my Hand reach down for the cigarette she immediately stopped her crazed spectacle. Her eyes pierced through me until they hit the metal armor of my soul.

The narrator wakes up:
And now we are here in this moment. I am in her bedroom and she has straddled me on her soft, thick mattress. she is pushing her fat Titties together in an effort to please me I assume, although she seems to be writhing in enjoyment. it is fun to watch her and although I refuse to enjoy this as much as she is trying to, the drugs combined with her efforts have aroused a bulge in my pants. I could fall asleep at any moment- I'm exhausted and worn out-- but she has earned this. she can take this if she wants it. it's the least that I can do. by this time she has pulled A tiny bottle from her purse. She inhales from it and offers in my direction but I refuse. I motion for another cigarette and she produces one and lights it from her mouth to a candle-- a red candle sitting on her nightstand; the only glow in the room. it is the glow that sets our eyes on fire as we pierce one another. she has undone my belt. I am becoming more erect. her blonde curly hair brushes the warm skin of my abdomen and with delight she begins breathing hot wet air through my briefs. I can feel her tongue pushing my shaft. She is struggling to pry these jeans from my body but she is enjoying it and I allow her to continue.

The narrator dreams:
I am reminded of the first time I let a girl go down on me. It was in high school in the back of my friend's station wagon. it was a fat chick just like her- so eager for the cock. so eager for the attention and my cum. my friend whistled the theme from the Andy Griffith TV show as the young girl gagged on me. I remember flipping her over and fucking her in the pussy like a dog, pulling on her hair and making her cry. it didn't feel good, It felt great. and it felt really great just to have something to grin about and brag about to my friends.

The narrator has fallen:
It made me feel like a God- but now, in this moment I am more concerned about Sheila. I wonder where she is and who is fucking her cunt. I can't help but let my mind wander into the dark places of my memory. it's like a dream sometimes- this life; you never know when you are asleep or when you are awake because it's all the same. it's all such a damn joke. a game. A riddle- and Sheila knows all of my secrets. every last fucking one... but for now my dick is deep inside the throat of a strange woman and with the memory of my dear Sheila I grab her hair tightly by the roots and force her face down toward the base of my cock so that I can feel her ass slam against my groin.

The writer takes control of the narrator:
I exert as much force as I can yet I am unable to cum. she is gagging and spitting. her eyes are blackened with mascara dripping down her cheeks. she is so thirsty- she is so eager. I can't help but to slap her. why can't she make me cum? why is she wasting my time? why can't I go back in time and never meet her? if this is a dream please let me wake up in Sheila's arms in our cold bed in winter- among the trash of the season.

The narrator dreams:
we had hermited ourselves. we were hibernating with an overwhelming selection of amphetamines and opiates. One lone boombox echoed the spirit of our raw lust through the chamber of our warehouse and the warmth of our blood spilled together into cold nights' slumber like lava into the ocean. One night at a time. three months felt like a year felt like a day I don't ever remember leaving her body. somebody wake me up, I am dreaming.

The writer takes back her control:
the woman has thrown her body off of mine as she lights another cigarette. I wake up from my dream and I begin to outline her silhouette with my eyes. I want my tongue to become my eyes. I want to trace her body with my tongue but I am stuck laying here like a corpse. my mind is too heavy. it outweighs my current natural instinct to rape her and to hold her down like she is begging for me to do. I get a feeling that I have to piss and I ask her where the pissor is. Wiping spit from her face she motions down the hallway and I drag my body in the darkness to find the toilet. I don't bother to find a light in the room and I decide to piss in the sink. I can see my shadowy figure in the mirror's reflection. I want to be able to trust myself. Then along comes the woman, behind me- on her knees she begs to me- her mouth open. her tongue spilling out over her dick-sucking lips. she has the eyes of mother Mary. the eyes of Jesus Christ. and I just want to fuck her until her holes bleed. I piss in her mouth and she swallows. I slap her again. I slap her until she cries- I am erect once more and I go in for the kill right there on the piss-soaked tile floor. I hold her down by the wrists above her head. she has propped her legs against the sink and the toilet, lifting her ass and her pussy in order to gain a prime entrance for my cock to drive into her with the madness of the moment. I am fueled by hate and I begin reluctantly fucking her. I will prove to her. I will cum inside of her. she is loving every minute. How she moans- hisses, bites. she is A demon. she is a freak animal. I reach for her ankles and hold her legs high as I thrust faster into her body. deeper I plunge. Her hips drive circles around my dick. she reaches for my chest and I push my body down onto her, holding her head with my hands. my elbows slip on the piss floor. I am pushing deeper into her and I can feel the walls of her pussy begin to breathe. In and out they tighten. her lips begin to swell. I take my cock out as lady cum gushes out from her hole like a hijacked fire hydrant in the summer. I tap her soft plump body. Sweat drips down onto her. once again I plunge.

The narrator has been hypnotized:
I see it in her. I can see the beauty. I see the submission of her sex and I see our connection. this is a connection I regret to experience but it is happening to me again. I can see reluctance in her eyes but still she allows it to happen. we begin to kiss. our tongues, our lips. her tongue and her teeth feel very familiar. everything slows down and the red light of night floods the small bathroom. we are in a womb of warm discomfort. she knows me in and out. who is this vicious animal? I want to love her. I want to kill her.

Honesty is achieved:
I pull my cock out and shoot a white load onto her fat stomach. how the fuck did I get here? where is Sheila? how long is purgatory? I am an unbeliever.

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