Tagged: hope

Fucking: Part 3

My eyes were nearly closed, light was coming in and out of my peripheral vision like headlights on the autoroute at night. His incredible specimen of the male sexual apparatus, finally released from the prison of clothing, gleamed, filled with heat and with hope as well, an ember left burning in the fire.

Generally, I never look. I’m shy that way, but in this particular moment I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. It glistened. Smooth perfection and proud, surging, with a sort of cap on top, like a mushroom or a child’s drawing of a tree. It pulsed with energy that seemed to enter me through the heavy air and I wanted it in the most desperate way. More than money, more than a career, more than peace in the world, more than my own life, which really, I only wanted to end. Most of the time. But not then. Not yet.

At that very moment I wanted his throbbing member in every part of me. In every opening that God foolishly left unlocked. (?) Every vulnerable hole, every orifice leading directly to my prune-like heart, every entrance that I was born with ached to be filled with his virility, with his light, with his hope.

Photo by John Faux