"deeply i go down into myself. my god is dark and like a webbing made of a hundred roots that drink in silence." -rainer maria rilke


pt. 2

continued from pt. 1

i left kansas city a couple hours after he did.  my trip back to st. louis that day was a drag.  i found myself replaying the previous night over and over again in my head... and, frustrated from being unable to fuck him again that morning, i kept rubbing my pussy through my jeans while driving, squirming and fidgeting in my seat the entire way back.

there wasn't time for us to meet up before the show...so i stayed at my apartment, hung out with my pals, listened to music, dolled myself up, and shared my whiskey.  there was a lot of laughing.  i'm lucky in that i have a really amazing group of pals here, they make me laugh so hard that i cry, and i love that.

later that evening, after his show, we snuck around the venue trying to find someplace to fuck.  we ended up on the balcony of off broadway...kissing.  deep kissing.  ravenous.  his hand slid up my skirt, his fingers into my pussy.  it's remarkable how wet he makes me.  the insides of my thighs were covered in pussy juice.  i wanted that cock.  i was aching for him to destroy me.  put me outta my fuckin misery already.

i don't remember why we stopped.  but we stopped.  i guess he had to "get to work" again...help the band pack up the van...some music dude shit.  whatever.

i paced around anxiously.  i couldn't stop questioning whether or not he was really coming back to my apartment.  my internal dialogue was something along the lines of...

is he or isn't he is he or isn't he is he or isn't he...

over and over.


i went outside to watch and wait.

the scene was intense.

i felt like a caged animal.

like a race horse...waiting in the gate.  waiting for that signal to go go go...

finally, he came up to me and dropped the bomb.  the band was leaving town.  he would stay, but i more or less had to promise him that i would drive him to wherever the band was in the morning.  it could have been anywhere between st. louis and cincinatti.  could have been a real long drive, just to fuck someone.

but a shift had occurred in my perception of who this someone is.  this wasn't just someone.  this wasn't just some fuck.  this was rare.

i agreed.  i promised.  and we went back to my place.

he was adorable.  all worried about where the band was going.  we messed around a bit.  but he was clearly distracted.  so we just kissed and groped and fooled around. 

i still cannot get over that kiss.  even now, over a month later, i can feel his mouth on my own.  our tongues move together as though they belong to each other.  there is no other kiss like this one.   none.  this kiss is perfect.

it's unbelievable how much and yet how little i remember about that night.  i had really lost myself.  dead gone.  over the cliff.  however, my body's consciousness had latched on to specific sensations.  his cock thrusting in and out of my pussy...his fingers in my mouth...his hands in my hair...his mouth on my mouth...his cock down my throat.  ALL THE WAY DOWN MY THROAT.

this was really the thing that blew my mind the most.

i have never had a cock go so far into my mouth that it pushed through my tonsils and went all the way down my throat like that.  my fucking tonsils...which are ENORMOUS by the way...opened for him.  and it was the most incredible feeling.  his hands entangled in my hair at the roots.  me gagging and spitting up ridiculous amounts of that deep throat spit...lover's spit...that beautiful fluid.  he took ahold of my hair hard...pushed in...and held it there...until suddenly, i opened up.

and to hear him talk about how it felt when it happened....just...god...it really makes me feel like a good girl.  i love it so much.

anyway!  i thought i was doing deep throat before!  previous lovers had sung praises of my abilities!   

best blow job ever!  you're amazing!  etc.

apparently i hadn't really been giving deep throat.  or this was just the furthest down a cock has ever been.  or...well...both.

the point is, it went there.  and every time i think of it, my body consciousness conjures the sensation back.  i can feel the texture of his cock on my tongue...that beautiful mess of black pubic hair against my face...my throat opening up...and god it turns me on.  it's the stuff of dripping wet daydreams.

we fucked on my couch.  we fucked in my bed.  my bed went totally crooked from the force of his fuck.  i'm not allowed to straighten it out, per his directives.

god i love his directives...

my pink sparkly american apparel dress is still laying on the floor where we left it.  and he's haunting my bed.  i can't lay on my back without seeing him in front of my face...

the following morning, i woke up to having my brains pounded out of me.  it was at this point that i realized that i had been destroyed.  i was, from here, worthless to anyone but him.  i found myself intermittently looking into his eyes while he fucked me...and he was looking right back.  we had really dug our claws into each other now.  i was on the edge of the bed with my legs splayed open, and then he was on top of me...holding my arms down.  we were fucking face to face, my legs pushed up by my head.  he was so fucking deep in me.  he had fucked through everything that i am.  he had gotten to my core.  and it's difficult to write about.  not because it's hard to describe, but because somehow...i can still feel him in me.

i died that morning.  i died from his fuck.

it was getting close to time for us to leave.  we stopped to look up directions to the where the band had ended up...about an hour outside of town.  we both got dressed.  i felt shell-shocked.  neither of us were saying much. 

filthy thoughts were creeping around in my head.  i want his cum in me.  i want it in me.  i want it to be mine.

i was not about to let him leave without giving it to me.  he walked into my room...and i was visibly not okay.  we kissed, i reached down and put my hand on his cock.  it was hard.  so i dropped to my knees and pulled it out, and began worshiping it immediately.

we both knew what was going to happen.  we had spoken of it, sort of in passing.  but now it was going to be real.

i stood up and pulled my jeans down to below my ass, turned around, and bent over the bed...and invitation for him to pound into me one last time before we left.  and of course he did.

it was unbelievable how hot this was.  his cock felt so fucking good.  my legs were weakening, my pussy was throbbing as i squeezed my pelvic muscles along with every thrust until he was about to cum...

"where do you want it?"

 he wanted me to say it.

"cum in my pussy, baby..."

and he did.  so hard that i heard his boot stomp as he did.  and god, it felt amazing.

he pulled out, breathing heavily, and leaned back against my closet door.  i turned around, pulling my jeans back up, buckling my belt, and sat on the edge of my bed facing him.  we looked at each other for what felt like a long time, but i'm sure it wasn't...not speaking...but saying it with our eyes.

the eyes.  the eyes have it.

and then...it was time to go.

i could feel our comingled fluids seeping out of me during the drive.  we didn't really say much, but kept resting our hands on each others thighs...and eventually...holding hands.


i cried on the drive back.  i knew coming down from that experience was going to be an existential crisis.  it was.  i went straight to bed when i got home.  slept most of the day.

a month later, and i'm famished for more already.  we're meeting again in june.  it's so far away.

in the meantime...i guess i'll have to write some erotic fictions to keep me busy...unless i get a girl to play with me...i can't conceive of any other man but him.  i belong to that cock and the person it's attached to.

and i love it.

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"in the slaughterhouse of love, they kill only the best, none of the weak or deformed. don't run away from this dying. whoever's not killed for love is dead meat." - rumi