My Pentecost.
Here I am in this little shithole of an afterhours bar, vamped and amped. Applying my lipstick, pouting, Jesus, I'm beautiful, even thru the tar coated mirror, you can see that.
I'm wearing my thigh high boots, love the sound they make as I strut. Power of the Heel. Courage in the leather. Courage in my red hair, courage in that opal demon, coke.
I pull my belt low, its one of those wide ones with a yin/yang symbol for the oversized buckle. I know what looks hot on me, with my 34 inch hips like one of those little asian girls. You can span my hips with one hand, cup my ass with the other. I know how to work it, I do..
Been working it since I was 11, testosterone has dogged me like a hound. I may be easy, but I'm not cheap, and I choose who gets to fuck me over, so to speak. Tonight the ships are in, winter storm coming....Always makes the till run over. That's harborside nightlife in a northern port city. The cold excites the patrons. The warm oblivion of alcohol.
The club is crowded, and I am searching. Searching for that hit, the one mainlined straight thru the iris, the one that says, tangobait. I'm on a mission, I'm feeling religious, I want to get my helium high. Coke is my courage, but sex is my daddy. Cock is my Pentecost.
I'm there an hour when I leave for a smoke, the scent of snow in the air, and He lights my cigarette, might as well be handing me a palm full of pomegrante seeds, rakish, macho, rocking slightly back and forth on his heels, a big man of the sea. I smile up at him, shyly, ha! they always like that..I tell him I'm a working girl...but that I like it kinky and I'm up for something special that I guess he can give. He's watching me, interested, I know he's got the cash to spend, and I laugh that little low laugh that always gets them hard. The beat spews from the doorway. The night has just become ventricular.
Fuck me, I like the body on this foreigner, all smooth, long torsoed blade like muscle art.. Dark skin, dark hair, and something else, something in his eyes.. I play a game ...tick tock goes the clock, how long before he says let's rock? He's hungry for skin, just off the Belgium ship, a bit rough and that's a turn on. The meters running guy, I tell him, and he glances up the lane and I know I have a deal. I take him around the corner to a pub hotel and he pays for the room.
A single bed, tobacco stained walls, and a window onto the back alley. He strips to his jeans, squats on the edge of the mattress, motions me to pull my top over my head. I do. I watch his eyes narrow. Come closer, he says, with his accent. He's all tattoo torso. Dragons, and fire.
I stand in front of him. He pinches my nipple hard. The white of teeth arcs thru me. The grin is not there anymore. He stares. I don't know why, but I'm a little thrown. It's his dead calm. Outside, the storm is beginning. Inside, my body is a butterfly betrayed. Saccharine, sickly sweet, this pull of sugarbody. For some reason, I hear the tune my mama used to sing to me ..the sea is deep, the sea is deep, and I've miles to go, before I sleep..something like that..the way he's looking at me, I feel like a little girl.
And then, his fingers are inside of me, my skirt hauled up to my waist. He's digging hard. "You like that?" he says, thickly. "Cunt." The way he says it, it sounds like Koont. My thighs water.
He pushes me down to my knees, rough. Wait, I say, and I reach for my jacket, for some blow. He nods and we inhale. Shit makes me want to drink him in, I run my tongue over his cock, I bathe it with my hair, and then I take it all the way back, gagging. He's thick, he's hard, I want... I moan, and I mount him. Am I doing him for money or am I doing him for me? Fucking oxymoron of a question.
He growls bitch, and rolls me over onto my back, pins my arms are over my head. I start to struggle. I don't like where this is going, but I'm high.
I hear the snow hitting the window. With the Violence of Ice. We're both breathing hard. Somewhere there are lambs. Here? Something about sheep..I search his face.
He's gone, a vacant lot, unreachable, no one's home. I am in trouble. And then, his cock is inside of me, stretching me, the hand of the man from the sea covering my face. Wait, wait, Oh my god, the fucker wants to kill me.
I can't breathe. Undertow. Tick tock goes the clock, how long before he says let's rock?
I'm wearing my thigh high boots, love the sound they make as I strut. Power of the Heel. Courage in the leather. Courage in my red hair, courage in that opal demon, coke.
I pull my belt low, its one of those wide ones with a yin/yang symbol for the oversized buckle. I know what looks hot on me, with my 34 inch hips like one of those little asian girls. You can span my hips with one hand, cup my ass with the other. I know how to work it, I do..
Been working it since I was 11, testosterone has dogged me like a hound. I may be easy, but I'm not cheap, and I choose who gets to fuck me over, so to speak. Tonight the ships are in, winter storm coming....Always makes the till run over. That's harborside nightlife in a northern port city. The cold excites the patrons. The warm oblivion of alcohol.
The club is crowded, and I am searching. Searching for that hit, the one mainlined straight thru the iris, the one that says, tangobait. I'm on a mission, I'm feeling religious, I want to get my helium high. Coke is my courage, but sex is my daddy. Cock is my Pentecost.
I'm there an hour when I leave for a smoke, the scent of snow in the air, and He lights my cigarette, might as well be handing me a palm full of pomegrante seeds, rakish, macho, rocking slightly back and forth on his heels, a big man of the sea. I smile up at him, shyly, ha! they always like that..I tell him I'm a working girl...but that I like it kinky and I'm up for something special that I guess he can give. He's watching me, interested, I know he's got the cash to spend, and I laugh that little low laugh that always gets them hard. The beat spews from the doorway. The night has just become ventricular.
Fuck me, I like the body on this foreigner, all smooth, long torsoed blade like muscle art.. Dark skin, dark hair, and something else, something in his eyes.. I play a game ...tick tock goes the clock, how long before he says let's rock? He's hungry for skin, just off the Belgium ship, a bit rough and that's a turn on. The meters running guy, I tell him, and he glances up the lane and I know I have a deal. I take him around the corner to a pub hotel and he pays for the room.
A single bed, tobacco stained walls, and a window onto the back alley. He strips to his jeans, squats on the edge of the mattress, motions me to pull my top over my head. I do. I watch his eyes narrow. Come closer, he says, with his accent. He's all tattoo torso. Dragons, and fire.
I stand in front of him. He pinches my nipple hard. The white of teeth arcs thru me. The grin is not there anymore. He stares. I don't know why, but I'm a little thrown. It's his dead calm. Outside, the storm is beginning. Inside, my body is a butterfly betrayed. Saccharine, sickly sweet, this pull of sugarbody. For some reason, I hear the tune my mama used to sing to me ..the sea is deep, the sea is deep, and I've miles to go, before I sleep..something like that..the way he's looking at me, I feel like a little girl.
And then, his fingers are inside of me, my skirt hauled up to my waist. He's digging hard. "You like that?" he says, thickly. "Cunt." The way he says it, it sounds like Koont. My thighs water.
He pushes me down to my knees, rough. Wait, I say, and I reach for my jacket, for some blow. He nods and we inhale. Shit makes me want to drink him in, I run my tongue over his cock, I bathe it with my hair, and then I take it all the way back, gagging. He's thick, he's hard, I want... I moan, and I mount him. Am I doing him for money or am I doing him for me? Fucking oxymoron of a question.
He growls bitch, and rolls me over onto my back, pins my arms are over my head. I start to struggle. I don't like where this is going, but I'm high.
I hear the snow hitting the window. With the Violence of Ice. We're both breathing hard. Somewhere there are lambs. Here? Something about sheep..I search his face.
He's gone, a vacant lot, unreachable, no one's home. I am in trouble. And then, his cock is inside of me, stretching me, the hand of the man from the sea covering my face. Wait, wait, Oh my god, the fucker wants to kill me.
I can't breathe. Undertow. Tick tock goes the clock, how long before he says let's rock?
I can't..
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