calypso

Two o-clock in the morning. My head is swirling with a multitude of thoughts. Thoughts and white noise. And then just white noise. Another thought.

I cannot make sense of any of it. My mind darts from the sex I had just two hours ago, from a dream I had the night before, to my dog twitching in her sleep beside me, to an interview I've got on Monday, then back to the man in my bed.

I feel like I should cry, but there are no tears.

I just sit here on the couch, nude beneath a fleece blanket, pondering my life and its meaning.

Just hours ago I was caressing his body. My fingertips across the curves in his side, my nails up and down his back, my left hand stroking and hardening his shaft. While I touched him there, my right hand tugged at his hair, my teeth in his neck, grinding against him. He was asleep no longer.

I rolled him over forcefully and moved myself over his manhood, my breasts first, then my mouth. Soon I was atop him, rocking in the moonlight.

"I'm gonna come," he tells me.

I quicken my pace, but only slightly. I feel his body tense. He pulls me down to him and wraps his arms around me, all the while releasing himself inside my warm and writhing body. He relaxes. I lay there for some time. My heart was beating insanely fast, a point I made clear by taking his hand and placing it on my chest.

After we get up and make our obligatory bathroom trips, it becomes apparent that I get no "happy ending." I don't care, though. He is sure to lick me every other time we screw...I'll let him off this time. He deserves a break.

Then the crazy thoughts begin. I start thinking about my interview, tattoo ideas, baking, a big party I'll be attending next weekend, etc. Before long, I'm down here in the living room, blogging nonsense.

I have a million ideas for photosets, but no money to make them happen. Grr.

I want to make cookies right now. Grrr.

I want to come. Grrrr.

I'm leaving.