August 25, 2010

Fire's burning, fire's burning, draw nearer, draw nearer...

Ah, yes, there you are, my perverted darlings! I knew you were around here somewhere! I was getting a bit panicked, actually. They’ve really cracked down here at the old asylum, restricting visitors and online communication. (Conjugal visits are, of course, strictly forbidden to those of us here in the fuckward, but they do make occasional allowances for immediate family who may be, oh, say, dying of cancer or something. Asylum generosity is truly overwhelming…) Anyway, I looked for you everywhere. I tried all the usual places: at the dry cleaner’s, the drive-in, the old meat-packing plant. No sign of you. I checked behind the mop bucket in the janitor’s closet and under your grandmother’s bed, to no avail. Down the back alley behind the Greyhound bus station, at the top of the Empire State Building, in the newly renovated washroom at Grossman’s Tavern. Nada. I thought for sure I’d find you in that swanky hotel room in north Vancouver, but nope. I tried the wax museum. Hell, I even looked for you in church, so you gotta know I was getting desperate. And after all this, where do I find you? Why, there you were all along, stuck in my subconscious like two lines from the chorus of a childhood campfire song…

My fingers are sticky with bits of melted marshmallow as I take your hand and lead you away from the bonfire, down the beach, into the black. The residual heat from the fire warms my face and the sand is cool beneath my feet as waves slip and suck behind us in the darkness. I kneel in front of you in the sand, wrap my sticky fingers around the base of your cock, and take you into my mouth. I wrap my lips around the smooth head of your dick, run my tongue under the ridge, poke it into the tip, taste you there. A warm summer breeze and your hands in my hair, insistent, as I tighten my grip and suck you, sliding my lips down that throbbing shaft, your balls cupped in my other hand, my middle finger pressing against your asshole. Your cock hits the back of my throat and I suck you in the summer dark, the fire a match-flame in the distance. I suck you suck you suck you until you whisper-moan that you are going to come and you do, filling my mouth with hot cum, sweet as s’mores.