Wednesday, February 22, 2012

On A Date: A Dork

The lenses of her glasses were speckled with filth and her clothing was ill fitting, but she was so grateful for my attention that my generic carnality swelled to a purposeful and benevolent lust. It is a tempting gamble to reach into the bubbling nerves of a dorky girl and pluck out her heart... I would be happy to fill the lofty roles of her re-hashed and wholly theoretical sexual fantasies.

The content of her room could soften even the most rigid erection. Posters for bad movies, ugly bed sheets, a lingering smell of Taco Bell. When she was stripped below me I examined her hairy, ape-like arms, her chewed fingernails, and choking pores. I felt Christ-like as I entered her unkempt hole, and I understood the honest roots of the "pity fuck," the saintliness of pleasuring the leper whose eyes still twinkle and wantonly roam.

1 comment:

  1. why is "boredom" not an option, right beside "disgust"? are you a twelve year old who just developed an idea of how important writers write? also, stop being a condescending fuck; it's seven sorts of lame. you sound like middle-class leonard cohen.