I nearly came–and I know she did. Her juice dribbled down my chin and soaked the collar of my t-shirt. The cum tasted like fresh peaches in cream. I stood up and cupped her breast and kissed her with her own juices still wet on my face, fresh. He never eats my pussy, she said. He says its unclean. Seemed pretty clean to me, I said and kissed her and smiled. Cleaner now, she took her tongue and wiped the juice from my chin and neck and shirt and said. Taste like pussy . . . yum. She led me into the bedroom. There she laid out on the big bed, spread eagled, and ready. She looked golden across the white sheets. She spat on her hand and then rubbed her clit with the spittle. She looked up at me and smiled, and said, Thats tight. Its like Ive never been fucked before. She then stuck her finger into her mouth and waved me over. Let me guess, he doesnt believe in getting blowjobs, either? She laughed and I unzipped my pants and pulled out my cock that was throbbing and hard and already. While the walls and all-too-pervasive eyes of this place had effectively eliminated the rest of my bodily cravings, this love affair with nicotine was not so easily ignored as were wine, women and song. I struck a match and the shadows of the room came alive, dancing and wavering with the flame. Drawing slowly on the match, the smoke reached deep within my lungs. I exhaled, extinguishing the flame. I turned to the window and stared out at the black and blue of night. Thoughts of her started creeping back in… the loss… the separation. My eyes began to mist as the hollow pit of my stomach swallowed another piece of my heart. “I can’t keep living like this. I need out of this hell. Please, God…” I lapsed into silence as tears streaked my cheeks. The rollie was short and burned my fingers. I carefully stubbed it out on the concrete slab that served as a windowsill as I took hold of me, bridling in my emotions and sliding the half-inch butt back into the Marlboro box. “I want sleep,” I.
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