February 4, 1999 |
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Oh yeah. Oh fuck an A. (Alabama) I called up Alabama last night. I had another hunger in my cunt that needed to be satisfied. Do you have ANY IDEA how perfect it is to fuck someone who knows you fuck other people? He just doesn't care. The hunger is too important at the time. I even told him the condensed version of Barron and my mental history. I called him at 9 last night and asked him if he wanted to see my place of work. He says he wants to know everything about me. Cool, huh? I mean, I think of the men that have said this to me. It's only the deepest friends, like you and T that actually wanted to know EVERYTHING about me. Even the fucked up stuff. Shit, I have no idea why people wouldn't want to study me. I am one funky little twit. Why do you think I write so much? I have so much to tell!!!! Alabama is NOTHING like Barron. It's so easy to like Al, and I don't think anyone likes Barron anymore. Al is stocky and has no problem lifting me, whereas Barron was a drained prune who could hardly keep his own wretched body upright. Al is a talker whereas Barron was as blank as a broken tv. Al is open minded about casual sex, drugs and personal freedoms, while Barron raped my unbridled spirit. You know I wouldn't even bother with this comparison at all, but Barron insisted on interrupting my perfect life with his email yesterday. So it's necessary now that I mock him. So anywho. I got lost getting to Alabama's house way south of the Seattle. It took me an hour to get there, but I was baked and I was having emotional sex driving with the Scarlet Pimp. I didn't even care if I even made it to my destination, I would have had a perfectly decent time getting lost in the moody Seattle weather. But shit, the closer I got to his house, the greater my hunger got. He turns me on so fucking much. When I got there, he was peering out the front window with his hands cupping his eyes against the glass. It was like going home for Christmas, except that certain packages weren't exactly kept under a tree. And as much as I wanted to unwrap him when I got there, we didn't jump right in on the sex. He drove me to my work just like I suggested. A crappy lay wouldn't have wanted to see my job. So are you seeing just how cool Alabama is yet? I really planned to fuck him on my office desk, but there was oddly too many people at work to risk it. So Al lied on the office floor with his head on my giant plush Weinermobile commenting that my office was SOOO me. I wanted to fuck him so bad. But I just did some little necking there over my dragon animations. At 2 in the morning he took me to his work. It was cold and raining while his key couldn't fit the first 2 locks. He lifted me to the warehouse boardwalk. It all smelled like turpentine, and he went on a tangent about how many fire codes the building violated. He builds decks for a living. Showed me the paneling and the sheets of pressboard. Then he showed me how deep his cock could get down my throat in the front office. He came on my black velvet shirt, so I had to wear my jacket bare after that. The shirt is currently on the floor of his truck. By the way, since the 2 weeks I've known Alabama, he's opened my mind to cordoroy, trucks and the military. All he had to do is deliver the charm of the items by living his life his own way. THAT'S the friend in him I like so much. I love people who show me how wrong I was once for hating something. (An observation about my basic priorities: I would rather get stoned than eat, but I would take extasy over pot any day. I would give up all drugs for my car, but I would rather fuck than drive. And shit man, let's face it, there isn't anything better than great sex. You know one of the reasons I love to fuck so much? It's completely different every time. Did you happen to notice that I have found 4 things I would rather do than eat? Christ, and I would rather eat than draw. I hate admitting that.) So anyway, after our oral fuck on the floor of his work, it was suddenly time to hit the nearest Denny's. He drove around in Denny's lot back and forth over 6 inch puddles. That little truck of his was a black lab retrieving water quarry, sending sheets of puddle over the slick night asphalt. He had spicy chicken wings and told me how he once ate a plate of 60 wings on a dare once. I invited myself to his bed. He wanted me there. Okay, so it was like 4 in the morning then. I was sharing his military napsack with him in some borrowed flannel night pants. I couldn't sleep with him there. God, he fucked me so long. So softly. The candles were the only light. I had my legs over his head and I was making little huffing noises without trying to. Pump squat sweeeeeeet purrrrrrrrrrrr. And we whispered the whole time. We only got about an hour of sleep. I like to fuck and drift off. Just like I know most men like to. And he even had to get up at 6 that morning to go to work. That's why I'm here so early this morning. I came straight to work from Alabama's bedroom. I can still feel where he deepdunked me, way back there in my snatch where only a cock can get. Even now I feel that lovebite of pressure inside me where I had been humped. And I am at my desk wearing all his clothes. Roit down to his green plaid boxers. |
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