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[ForEverAfter]

layover

you get off the plane

I am jet-lagged, emotionally
I don't know how I feel or how I felt.

we go out
lust in place of love

you pass out drunk

Lu encourages me to join you
she keeps my wine glass full

but, the sandman is dead
I am wider than awake

confidence distorting my self image
I am a genius, a god, arrogantly boasting about nothing

playing piano, consuming impossible amounts of alcohol
talking unreality with Lu and her boyfriend, I forgot his name

I embarrass myself
but, it's okay

Lu is slurring-drunk already
she won't remember

and her boyfriend
he doesn't care.

you look beautiful
when you sleep

my mind
is a museum of skin

I revisit that night
over and over.

your perky little tits. your bright pink pussy. your long red nails clawing at my spine. cask wine and cigarettes on your breath. your hair, flowing over your slender shoulders. curly. red. coiled into springs, bouncing electric against your pale skin.

Lu tells me I can't play piano very well, but it's not true
she's drunk, and jealous of my genius

her nameless boyfriend remains quiet, egoless, flat
he doesn't force conversation or embrace it

Lu is socially awkward, blunt, devoid of subtlety
and frustrated that I won't lie down with you.

the temptation is torturous.

our bodies separated by nothing but clothes
your heartbeat, the rhythm of your breath

your neck inches away from my mouth

I could just close my eyes and pretend to sleep
positioned so my erection doesn't dig into you

my arm casually wrapped around your waist
fingertips against your soft elastic abdomen

but I wouldn't be able to resist
working my way down between your legs.

Lu plays the piano
her technical perfection is no match for my soul

nobody speaks until the song ends
the gap in conversation allows me to focus.

your bald cunt. i wonder if you shave these days, or if you let it grow out. imagine both, simultaneously. wet lips, blooming, surrounded by smooth white skin. your pink pussy, surrounded by a mound of thin red hairs. your asshole tight around my finger. the tip of my tongue flicking against your bulging clitoris. the dirty things you said. as the bed lifted anchor. as we drifted across the floorboards. devolving into beasts. claws digging into my spine. the sweet animal noises you made when you were about to cum. your body glistening with sweat. the sound of wet flesh against wet flesh. the heat from your cunt liquifying my cock. melting us together.

the song ends

I tell Lu she's talented
no point in telling her she doesn't have a soul

she says, “sit on the couch”
she doesn't say why

I do it without thinking
your naked feet almost touching me
my pornographic inner monologue a thousand times louder.

your thin lips, wrapped around my cock. the taste of your skin on my buds. your sweat. your ass. your cunt. mixed with my saliva. the taste of my cock. my balls. my sweat. mixed with yours. our bodily fluids mixing as we kiss. my tongue synchronized with my hips. darting in and out of your mouth with every thrust. the sting of your long red nails, slicing through my flesh. your tits, in the palms of my hands. nipples like frozen cherries. your saturated cunt overflowing with slippery satin lubricant. your lips pressed hard against mine. muscles squeezing and releasing in sync.

nameless smokes a bong, exhaling an atmospheric mist
artificial light shining through the twisting grey strands of smoke

you glow, magic
too perfect

I am careful not to noticeably stare at you
my stare is fragmented, I assemble you in pieces

the impression your tits make against your clothes
A-cups, rising and falling with each breath

your delicate porcelain fingers
arranged like poetry

the hem of your dress
stuffed between your legs

material
pulled tight around your body

your lips, parted
inviting me

your lonely tongue
pink and moist

I cross my legs as blood rushes to my cock
my brain, struggling to keep my balls at bay

you're dangerously sexy
I cannot be trusted.

double one is two. double two, four. then eight. sixteen. thirty-two. sixty-four. a hundred and twenty-eight. two hundred and fifty-six. five hundred and twelve. one thousand and twenty-four. two thousand and forty-eight. four thousand and ninety-six. eight thousand, one hundred and ninety-two. sixteen thousand, three hundred and eighty-four. thirty-two thousand, seven hundred and sixty-eight. sixty-five thousand, five hundred and thirty-six.

I stop counting and uncross my legs
your toe brushes against me as I stand up

Lu frowns, frustrated
as I return to the armchair

my fantasies, no longer suffocated by mathematics
they come flooding back, drowning my thoughts
leaving nothing but lust.

I think about touching you, while you're asleep. sliding your red dress up to your waist. my fingertips tracing a line from your ankle to your panties. working their way underneath. my thumb gently pressed against your dry hole, as you get wet. my dick working it's way into your mouth. I think about undressing you with a pair of scissors. I think, one. two. four. eight. sixteen. thirty-two. sixty-four...

Lu tells me to sit on the couch
she doesn't say why

nameless smokes another bong
he doesn't say anything

I don't understand why she wants me to lie down with you
does she want me to molest you? fuck you? rape you?
so, what, she can catch me in the act?

I tell her “I'm going home”
I walk three kilometres
I escape

masturbate
thinking about you

post-ejaculation
I realize, Lu didn't want us to fuck
she wanted us to fall asleep together
so we'd wake up together

maybe you said something to her
about wanting to be with me

about that night, eight years ago
when my parents kicked you out
and we drifted apart.

I remember now
how much I love you

but, it's too late.

tomorrow
I wake up alone.

 

[Raz]

That was awesome! So much to love about it....the way it's saturated with aggressive sexuality, the subtle undercurrent of regret and missed opportunity...also, I liked how the four characters each have their own individual roles/personalities built with only a few strokes.

On another note, this is a great line too:

the sandman is dead
I am wider than awake

And I liked the repeating nature of Lu telling him to sit on the couch, nameless pulling on the bong....brings to mind for me some of the weird cyclic stuff you notice when everyone's high. [/gushing praise]