I came from the local drunk as a beast. I tripped on a sidewalk insidious. Build them at random to break the cock to peaceful people. And they also raining. Who? those there, who else. I reassembled, with great dignity. I lit a cigarette from the filter. And I threw it away with class.
"I'll take you, is not a problem.."
"Guido But I ...".
"Are you kidding? I am my own master. ".
She is a girl 27y.o.. Beautiful, mysterious charm, and wavy blond hair that falls on the back. A tiger with green eyes. You fucking eyes, only if they feel like it. He studied and is very attractive. And I need a drink in pubs. The proposals are the habitual drunkards, leave notes, s'umiliano in front of her alluring beauty. But she is engaged to imagine horrible. A forty year old with thinning hair, uncoordinated way, small eyes and look in the same wit and charm of the expression 'Mr Gasparri. Insurance agent, even one with the grain. And rose on my machine.
I started the engine and I wondered why. Then I put a nice cd of atmosphere. Sounded "Confortably numb" by Pink Floyd, with empty bottles and cans that jostled at every turn, in a surreal gig. Note, glass and tin. And a great pussy on the seat beside me. A nice premise for a fucking infamous. But even lick a half hour, it would be a good deal.
We talked amiably and kept asking how he was in a little while to slip in the same bed with that rag of a man. That image haunted me mortal. One thing that is contrary to everything. Interest, aesthetics, religion. Perhaps hiding in his pants gaggio 26centimetri weapon. It seemed the only option. She spoke of a competition, and I have developed an interesting theory: The beautiful women who are not part of the jet-set, end up with ugly men. They seem so unapproachable that no one comes forward. Inhibit minds. It satisfied the first wreck that sent her roses and opens the door to as dementia. He spoke
looking forward, with a little 'embarrassment. Then we stopped in front of a historic building and an overflowing garbage bin. He took a map and started rolling a joint.
"Jesus! even with drugs? By now you're a mature woman, we have a position.. "
"I relaxed. You drink, I smoke. ".
"Fair enough.."
Then the conversation went His love sweet and obscene.
"He is kind. Then he knows how to treat women. ".
"With all the people that we crawled back in the end you gave ...".
"It seems so, but many do not even come close. Others run away ...".
Here's my lit theory is justified. I am a straight mica laugh.
"I do not run away for sure ...".
"What are you doing here? However you never tried ...".
"Christ is true. It's never happened to the occasion.. "
"And that evening at the home of xxxx?".
"The stars were not favorable, perhaps.." That time I was so drunk that vomited the soul, and then I went home, making a collective greeting with his hand. Without speaking.
"You mean we'd be?".
"Maybe I do not know ...".
The non-denial-net is equivalent to a statement. One possibility of consensus. We men just that. A little 'I have understood the psychology of women. And I was too drunk to think of something else. I have put my hand on her leg. I approached my lips to his. God had a nice smell. Wild flowers in a sunny spring afternoon. Then we kissed. Seven seconds in all. The time that my hand percorresse her thighs, and arms himself in the fucking pants. Then hath been stolen, he dodged amiably.
"Come on, do not is the case ... "
" What's wrong? ". I was a little depressed '.
("I believe in the stars. Tonight, the moon seems to weep passion, wild honey and rough. Do not you miss it? Purpose."). So I had to say, but it is to me come.
I lit a cigarette, I gave a few puffs nervously. I listened to argue.
"does not seem right to him. Then we are friends for so ...". The
I opened the door. I made it down. In open country. With the city lights that were lit in the distance. I restarted the engine and I left there. And I thought. But there are some women? A fuck is losing meaning friendship? Boh. Who will ever understand. I asked only to give me a fucking pity. Nothing else. Mica a compassionate love, that there has already. Then I did the reverse. Walked arm in arm to the torso, to combat the cold that was not there. I approached. Seemed to cry. The car followed her to a crawl. And I talked with the window down.
"salts."
"Go!"
"Look, if they pass the cops, they'll think I'm loading. We spend the night at police headquarters. "
"I would also now a whore? Get out! "
worsened the situation. I'm not good with words.
"Okay, I'm sorry, it was a moment of nervousness, but now salts! I kneel down later. ".
E 'climb. We made peace. We kissed again. A slow kiss and unpretentious. Soft and final.
the morning I left a message.
"Sorry again for yesterday. Sometimes I look like a hateful man. But it's not my fault. Good day.. "
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