July 7, 2011
The click of the shutter was reminiscent of the slapping sounds of wet flesh; sex on hardwood, sticky summers in the front seat of the truck, being thrown against the wall in a sense of urgency that never abated. The absinthe burned a trail through my veins. Everything was numb… everything that wasn’t important. All thoughts had become fuzzy, nothing really mattered. Nothing but the sensations, the pleasure, the fact that for one brief moment you loved me. I could feel your fingers slide along my skin. You opened me in ways I’d never been touched, positioning me for maximum effect.
Pure bliss rained from every inch of my body in the form of sweat and cum. I lost count… Did I ever stop cumming? One moment crashed into the next, one orgasm chased another. ‘round and ‘round my brain… what brain, it was all nerves, skin on skin, skin on sheets, just skin. Thought had ceased to matter… all I could feel was you. You and the pleasure and the love. Too soon it was over.
The oxygen isn’t enough to sustain the functioning of my soul. I can’t think. I can’t feel. I live in your film. I exist to be part of you. Loved by you. This shell that walks around… sending sneaky pictures of flashes of cunt under a desk. Driving down the road in ecstasy to get the briefest taste of that night.
I can’t stop thinking about making love to your film. Writhing in the agony of the thought of not being good enough. Begging for your approval in every breath, every veiled glance. Every orgasm writing our passion in the heavens. I exist for that sex, the illusion that you love me. Was I good enough? You were amazing! Spending my days plotting, my nights reliving the vividness of memory. I wake up in a cold sweat, alone. I’m a junkie. I want more. I need it with every burning fiber of my being.
One night… one hit… Addicted.