Charlie dog has his face buried knee deep in her crotch, a short cut turf of snatch hair running up her belly to the deep canyons of her arm pits.
“Ah love”, Charlie sighed as Alicia moaned in happy agony. oh exquisite torture it is to be driven up the wall with an uncontained lust, to soothe for sooth, he thought. To calm the aching passions was a waste of time, a protoausterity he had no need to bow too. He was more like a bonobo monkeys he thought - a black and decker cocksucker, ready to shoot at the drop of the hat.
But about that snatch, the snatch of one Alicia Gerome, great great granddaughter of the forgotten Sons of Geronimo, and heretofore known as Blowjob Queen of Mercedes Beach, our lady of slutty smiles herself. She was wiggling around on the current of her breath, mashing her crotch into Charlies face like he was some sort of tongue saddle. and shouting at Charlie.
“I didn't know you were still in operation”, she said.
“The mission never ended”, he replied.
She looks down her belly at him and explodes in tears, an ancient galactic rhythm spiraling up her spine in slow undulations. Charlies hair is ripped from his head as she grasps him. She holds up her bloody trophy to the moon.
Fade to black.
The cunt queen of heaven, our lady of the endless stars, nuit. Twas a dark and stormy day, the kind of day that makes you wanna crawl under six pounds of blanket and tune out to the ghost music of Cydonia, the City of ten thousand names, the bone city, the dreamscape, passing echos and broken reflections, the Place we met before we met. You know the place. You can’t travel too far in any dream without reaching at least one road which leads to Rome.
No comments:
Post a Comment