April 12, 2005

Your bottle cap said, “There are good times ahead.” I’m not sure it can get much better. For five hours I hung on the edge of an orgasm, arms twitching, eyes shut in abandon, cock and asshole alive and yearning. Time dissolved leaving behind only our naked bodies. We forgot all about breakfast, sleep, coffee, Paris … and exams only 10 days away.

Lost. Lost. Your cunt gurgled and my mouth was full of lust and saliva. Electricity shook our loins until our brains were paralyzed and motionless.

I wonder what you are becoming, what I am becoming. One inseparable, self-indulgent mess? Are there good times ahead? Can we handle much more goodness?