Sample from the new book...
She rolled herself on top of him completely unclothed, save for he knee-high rainbow striped socks, and reached down to put him inside of her. He wasn't ready. Physically, yes, he was ready, that she had made sure of. The filthy things she was whispering in his ear, how her fingers disappeared inside herself, how she then gripped his madhood(her hand lubricated with her own sexual juices. But in his head he wasn't there, not yet. He knew the moment was coming, and this excited him far more than the barely twenty year old girl writhing and moaning in his bed. Then it came.
He tossed her off of him and hurried to the record player. She sat on the bed, confused, still fingering herself and said something complimentary about his backside. He flipped the record and carefully replaced the needle. He was back in the bed as quickly as he had exited. And then just as he entered her, maybe too quickly, the song starts. "The Ghost in You" by The Psychedelic Furs. Then he is lost, lost to the moment. The song playing loudly, the only light coming from a small antique chinese lamp, the smell of marijauna and sex saturate the small room. He keeps his eyes closed. Focuses on the song, his hips moving in unison with the beat. He kisses her deeply, only to stop her from speaking, to keep her from ruining the moment.
He finishes as the last few notes from the song ring out. She is panting and tries to hold him close to her, to keep him inside of her. He pushes her away and turns on the light. The fantasy is gone now. He lights a cigarette and pulls his pants back on while she slips under the covers and fumbles for the remote control. She would not be spending the night. This she didnt know. She meant nothing to him. She was the same as the song, the antique lamp, she was a prop. Because that song was their song. The lamp was their lamp, a joke really but sentiment had attached itself. And this girl. Who was beautiful, smart, and probably too good for him anyways. Was not the girl he wanted her to be. Needed her to be.
She rolled herself on top of him completely unclothed, save for he knee-high rainbow striped socks, and reached down to put him inside of her. He wasn't ready. Physically, yes, he was ready, that she had made sure of. The filthy things she was whispering in his ear, how her fingers disappeared inside herself, how she then gripped his madhood(her hand lubricated with her own sexual juices. But in his head he wasn't there, not yet. He knew the moment was coming, and this excited him far more than the barely twenty year old girl writhing and moaning in his bed. Then it came.
He tossed her off of him and hurried to the record player. She sat on the bed, confused, still fingering herself and said something complimentary about his backside. He flipped the record and carefully replaced the needle. He was back in the bed as quickly as he had exited. And then just as he entered her, maybe too quickly, the song starts. "The Ghost in You" by The Psychedelic Furs. Then he is lost, lost to the moment. The song playing loudly, the only light coming from a small antique chinese lamp, the smell of marijauna and sex saturate the small room. He keeps his eyes closed. Focuses on the song, his hips moving in unison with the beat. He kisses her deeply, only to stop her from speaking, to keep her from ruining the moment.
He finishes as the last few notes from the song ring out. She is panting and tries to hold him close to her, to keep him inside of her. He pushes her away and turns on the light. The fantasy is gone now. He lights a cigarette and pulls his pants back on while she slips under the covers and fumbles for the remote control. She would not be spending the night. This she didnt know. She meant nothing to him. She was the same as the song, the antique lamp, she was a prop. Because that song was their song. The lamp was their lamp, a joke really but sentiment had attached itself. And this girl. Who was beautiful, smart, and probably too good for him anyways. Was not the girl he wanted her to be. Needed her to be.
lielock:
whoa
epidemia:
^ I second that...