Thursday, October 3, 2013

On Not Eating a Burrito

I was hungry and I was full at the same time, overcome with both desire and with its being sated, wanting more of this pleasure despite being so overwhelmed by it. His cock was stuffed down my throat, gagging me, and I never wanted it to end, was hungry for future moments of this present moment. He was sitting on my face, I was eating his ass, and I wanted him to sit even harder, for him to be heavier, for his presence to be more, his body to become entirely suffocating, something that could erase me.

I had gone to the gym after work, however I realized I forgot my gym clothes once I was in the locker room. I remembered Matt worked at Eastern Bloc on Thursdays, thought of how long it had been since I had seen him. What I am saying is that I went to Eastern Block for happy hour, which was fun. It was nice to talk to Matt and to various strangers there for happy hour as well. I left, having intended to finish The Brothers Karamazov this evening, having gotten so thrown off the course by these very strong drinks, and by the sight of all this vintage seventies porn they played when men may have reached their physical ideal, it all downhill from there, people too skinny or too muscular in the various genres and eras of porn since, nothing having that just right Goldilocks feel.

So I was on my way home, walking up Avenue A toward the L train back to Brooklyn. I was thinking of how good a burrito from Zarazoga Deli would be. I was also thinking of how good a dick would be, how great one would be, how amazing it would be to choke on one. I was looking at Scruff as I walked toward a burrito. I messaged a few guys, throwing off Hi's and Hey Sexys in quick succession, as quick as I could type them on my way to some Mexican food to soak up the whiskey sloshing around my insides. And there were no responses except from the one I did not expect a response from, someone so absurdly porn-star sexy, seventies kind I mean, that I didn't think he would respond, that this is the person, the one, that in fact did respond. He was a few hundred feet away. A few messages back and forth and I was soon ringing his doorbell. I was soon walking into his apartment to see this insanely fucking sexy dude in his boxers with a huge boner poking through. Is this real life?, I may have been wondering at the time. I may be still wondering the answer to that question and other variations of of it.

It has been a long time since I have had sex. Too long. I was so hungry and I was so full.

Sometimes life is so good. Like, you shouldn't be so lucky, that no one should, that men this sexy should not invite you to their apartment and want to mess around with you, to get each other off, to explore notions of pleasure together. Like, does this stuff really happen? I had forgotten it did. It felt so good to remember.

It has also been a long time since someone has really understood me sexually, or been willing to play a role I haven't had someone play in so long, that of some dominant male making me worship him - so, so long. There was no discussion of this but instantly through my moans as I was sucking his dick on my knees, he understand what it was that turned me on, saw some glimmer of a dirtier submissive slut buried somewhere.

This guy was quite muscley it should be added, someone physically larger than me in mass, someone that could play this dominating role very convincingly.

He stood over me, his foot pressed down on my face, making me kiss it, lick it, admire it. He did this harder and harder until I came. He then ran his toes through my semen on my chest. He made me lick it off his feet.

Once I got dressed and was saying goodbye, I kissed him briefly on the lips, the first time we had done so, and then I kissed again those armpits, full of such a sexy odor. I took a taste of it with me for the subway ride home. I skipped out on the burrito. I passed right by Zarazoga Deli. Though I hadn't eaten in hours and was hungry, I didn't want to eat anything that might remove from my mouth the taste of these other things still so present - his armpits, his ass, my semen, his cock - this mixture of intense scents still in my mouth, still in every part of me, these overwhelming senses - smell and taste and the memory of touch. I walked past the burrito place, did not stop. I was hungry and I was so full.

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