I spent Saturday morning to reflect. Lying in bed, completely naked. I stared at the ceiling. And then the window, and standing water. In the absolute solitude of a dreadful autumn, the cyclamen grow where skew between stones worn by the years.
called me Philip. Philip is the purveyor of my cunt, and thirty-five problem with the vice of synthetic pills. Average height, angle and angular face, reddish hair, expression spirited, frenetic and articulated movements, as perennially loaded springs somewhere Satanello spiteful, disguised as a hallucinogen acid. Long ago, after a party, stripped naked, and began singing on the counter: "You're still mine, even when you sleep you will be the only woman for me ...". Then he began to masturbate, cursing, and brings them back home. I've never been clear why go so hard with women. Between his legs did not even that great spirit sensitive, so that attracts the hearts of women. And by the way, is often green. With the voice
all excited, tells me that the hands du many interesting girls with whom to spend the night. I tried to decline, more than bragging commitments. The sex does not attract me very recently. I only went to stay with my naked because, to be caressed with combs and off with imaginary a case of Beck's. Two ghosts attacked me from horrendous, in the midst of those walls. Scope of Zazzi yellow ocher, hair long and shaggy on the arms blacks, and I'm gnawing on the jugular with the gums slippery. I decided to run away cowardly, and accept the invitation of Philip.
Like all straight, before a horrible night, was drunk on the cheap, from "Donato mustache." € 1 and 20, a Peroni. I have shot six along with a mason depressed, and I was almost like any other, laffuori. It took me an hour and a quarter to reach the room, wandering among bumpy roads, made slippery by rain. From the outside it looked a former church, a place of damnation. One of those where orgiastic rites are practiced in the mask. I entered. Revealed herself a quiet little place, manner, sleepy. An elegant and youthful customers. No mask. A sophisticated group of middle-aged men playing the nice jazz. A little 'I like jazz, at times. It 's the sad fate of passing time, and men as they age. We pass from Soundgarden rock elite, jazz or classical. Revolutionary ideas to the left of the Communist Party of China, slipping slowly into the vile restraint. From sex brisk, free-range and pleasure, you get to crazy thoughts of love, yearning and cold and planning for future retirement. That must be why I do not grow old ever. It is always an asshole dreamer with his head in the clouds of hops. The only project I have is not achieving the 14 beers. A threshold that I capture the thoughts of sudden death, and assumptions of elegant and sinuous flight of an angel from the fourth floor. The secret is to stop at the thirteenth, or continue. Why in the fifteenth then I forget.
I downed a cocktail after another. Ruffians and lazy, like all things sweet. And I forgot the count.
The two girls were not too bad either, given the circumstances. Philip has run slingshots on heroin. I had presented a concert (aggratise) Cure. After half-drained bottle of vodka, he wanted to take off her pants and fuck the entire male population in Piazza San Giovanni Laterano. A girl nice and bright, in fact. With reddish hair tied in two braids, like Pocahontas, fisichetto nervous and slender, graceful in a narrow beige dress, heavy makeup around the eyes and a beautiful look lively circle. I remained another, and was not even bad. Donnino with a beautiful platinum blonde hair that fell on the shoulders raised and wild, with red cheeks and facial features attractive, those who are curious of life. It looked hot. His eyes were clear in the middle between off and dreaming. I've watched her lips, quietly detached. Of beautiful full lips that they attack you, twisting words. Yet she was painted in black scary around the eyes. A look difficult to fit, half dark, half girl and left alternative with a splash of glamor. A scarf around his neck thin-thin, pale color Celestine, with so many blinding streaks. Just below the neckline came out a gap of tits charming. Similar to the Blue Fairy, with lots of feel like shit. For a second I imagined his magic in a bed. Then I started to drink. Grazia, so you chiamva (Grazia Graziella-and-through 'or cock! "Said a friend of mine intellectual, when he wanted to be nice) spoke well, he said something intelligent. I did not understand, but they were certainly interesting. In certain circumstances, it is important the content, but as words come out. The movement of the lips, involuntary facial wrinkles, how to roll a cigarette breath. There
I left class with 60 € careless, and I did not know if I passed the threshold of the fateful 13. I did not care. The blonde stood and made her beautiful figure. A nice full ass is back, bursting clear bon vivant in his pants. Philip has run approached, his eyes bright and quite tangled.
"Listen, if you want, come to my house, do something with all four ...". Then he smiled a little wink '.
"No, tonight is your night.".
There was a little 'bad. He improvised a commitment, and left with its beautiful Pocahontas OVERDONE.
Outside, the rain had slowed. We stayed in the deserted parking lot, surrounded by pine trees, which sgrullavano droplets restless.
"With everything that you've been drinking, if you are stopped, the license do not you retire, you burn it ...".
(Uhuh! m'รจ touched a nurse).
"Imagine, you're thoughtful. It is also drunk who has eaten a chocolate to rum. According to their thresholds should be dead.. "
I peered curiously. Perhaps he had studied psychology from Ursuline mustache and industrious.
"I have not said what is your job.".
"Nothing. I look around.. "
"I envy you so ...".
"What do you want it, I look to sell the house, then drink up to die. What remains leave it to the cat.. "
"But you live alone?".
"Sure. But a girl I do. I just have to tell you, one day or another. I'm an insecure. ".
was genuinely amused. They all laugh. I do not know how to explain why. Exchange the tragedy with irony. Women are strange. Then he continued to
monologue. Important words, which I remember only angular fragments. I tried to give me an attitude. I lit a cigarette. Flickered all around the machine. Need to do something. I've kissed your lips. With a movement of class I have enclosed the back. Her lips were cold, and the language almost a freeze arrow, which was slowly brightening, until trasformasi in lascivious frenzy. I do not like the language and furrowed with scrap iron, but in some cases you do not have time to think. His hands sought her buttocks. Using a firm and graceful, my predecessor. He pulled off his pants and began to work with the poor care foreskin tired. A punctilious ritual. He got to kiss him slowly, like a gallant knowledge. I thought it was a very sweet girl with so much need of love. I felt it swell and burst in her mouth, suddenly. Slowly he led with his right, his left hand caressing the outline. The black painted nails scratched gently. Every now and then the delicate little kisses to tickle the tip. That masturbation kissed me bewildered. I had time to read the Divine Comedy in Esperanto, before coming. I was drunk and she did not understand it. But I have left to do.
kept wondering when he began, waiting me bewildered. The lips, supporting the development of hands, excited me. Then has made her more determined, his fingers now tighten a NERC crazy. And the veins throbbed more and more swollen. Place the wet lips of the chapel, the winding sinuously with the language, with no brakes. Jesus' language. I felt his breath, the excitement was mounting that, parallel to mine. I came, watching the moon looked out timid, fearful of clouds. He all collected in a handkerchief, and hath been cleansed of any remaining recalcitrant. It is
accuattata above, and we have continued to smoke and watch the moon clear and hidden. Then I started the engine, and I stopped at the first provider of condoms.
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