Magnolias

Well fuck me sideways, look who’s here! I’m glad you’re still out there in all your throbbing purple glory. There are so few things in this world one can count on. Death. Taxes. The human libido. But I have a confession, my darling randy reader: sometimes, late at night when the other inmates are restrained in their beds, dreaming their prepubescent penile dreams, I worry that you aren’t out there. That you are no longer waiting for me, that you’ve given up and moved on. That some other girl, some other fantasy, has taken my place. And then I think, well fuck you. Who needs you anyway?

Still, I wonder where you are. What you’re wearing. What you think about when you think about me. Who am I? How long would it take me to tear the clothes from your body? Will your cock spring up at my touch? What will I taste on your tongue? The bloody steak you ate for dinner? The salt-sweet cunt you ate for lunch? Mint, and just under the mint, barely detectable but present nonetheless, the pungent tang of shit?

When you read these words, will you take your dick in your fist and imagine me bending over in front of you, my forearms resting on a desk, a table, the back of a chair? My ass smooth and round, my hair falling over my shoulders. The curve of a shoulder blade, the small of my back. Press a knee between my legs, press your warm dick into the crack of my ass, nuzzle up into that warm wetness. While you imagine fucking me from behind, will you spit in your fist and stroke your hard cock? Down to the root, squeezing, up the shaft, over the head, down, up, over, down, up, over, down. Your balls slap my ass with each thrust and my legs quiver and I moan and my asshole winks up at you as you spread my cheeks and come, smearing sticky white gobs up the crack of my ass. Will you come into your fist, a tissue, an old stiffened sock?

Magnolia trees in bloom uncurl their fragrant pink petals, open their silken cunts to the wind’s searching fingers, and I lie here alone in the asylum, my own searching fingers opening my own silken petals, and I fuck myself as the wind whispers its spring secrets and I think, well fuck you. Who needs you anyway?

Salutations!

Salutations from the asylum! Jesus Christ, but it’s been awhile. Fucking seasonal affective disorder makes me all moody and lethargic. Well, that, and the fact that I pissed the night nurse off and he took away my computer privileges. He wanted a blowjob but I wasn't in the mood, what with the SAD and all, but sometimes this nurse won't take no for an answer. So I sucked him off alright, I just forgot to swallow and he ended up getting a second-hand facial. Oops. He was not amused. Makes you wonder about the way this system is set up, doesn’t it? Whose brilliant idea it was to put a bunch of perverts in charge of a bunch of perverts. It’s a wonder any of us get out of here at all. It doesn’t happen often.

So, anyway, I've done my time in solitary. I tried keeping track of how many times I fucked myself while I was down there, but I lost count. Nothing like a little masturbation to pass the time. But I'm back, and the sunshine filtering through my barred window makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and I thought I'd try to pass along some of the warm-and-fuzzy to you, my faithful fucked-up readers...

Summer air, heavy as unspoken lust. In the distance, heat lightning strikes. Villainous cumulus clouds rush in, blocking out the sun. The air between us sizzles, hisses, spits. We are alone, you and I, on this path by the river as the first pregnant drops fall, spattering the ground like so much wasted semen. Crack of thunder like a barehanded slap on the ass as the sudden rushing rain soaks us to the skin. My shirt clings to my stiffening nipples, my skirt clings to my bare thighs, I feel wetness between my legs that has nothing to do with the rain. I pull you to me in the darkness of the storm and kiss you, voraciously, wildly, I can't get enough of your lips, your tongue. Rain lashes the trees around us, whips the river into a frenzy. Your hands are on my breasts, pinching my nipples through the thin wet fabric, and I press myself into you as you run your hands down the curve of my waist and up my wet thighs and find that other wetness, slip a finger, two fingers, in. Fuck me, I plead, as thunder crashes. Fuck me fuck me fuck me and you push me backwards into a tree, I feel the wet bark rough against my back, your mouth on mine, your fingers in my cunt, I fumble with your belt and free your cock, pull it to me, pull it into me, purple and throbbing, and you fuck me up against the tree, rain pelting our faces, you fuck me fuck me fuck me as lightning rapes the sky and I cry out and you come in final violent thrusts and we are left panting and ragged and the storm rages on.

Fuck winter.

Goddamn, it’s cold in here. From where I sit in the common room, I can hear the other patients bitching and moaning about how cold they are. Fuck the temperature; they are cold in their cunts and in their sad, lonely hearts. Plus, the bastards that run the place keep the thermostat so low it damn near freezes your tits off. Pneumonia runs more rampant here than herpes simplex virus 2, and trust me when I tell you that that is saying something. I’m so glad you could come tonight. I miss you when we aren’t together, you know. It’s no fun jacking off alone. So let’s focus on a warmer, happier time, shall we?

As I drift slowly upwards into consciousness, I become aware of the fact that I’m blindfolded and ball-gagged and bound to a hard-backed chair, my wrists behind my back and my legs apart. The wiry fibres of the cord cut into my skin, not unpleasantly, and trickles of sweat trace their way between my naked breasts. I’m drooling. It's hot as a motherfucker in here. Where the hell am I? And suddenly the beast beside me roars into life and I realize that I'm in the boiler room of the asylum, naked and sweating. And I wonder how it can be so hot down here when the rest of the place is as cold as our poor broken hearts. Dim orange light flickers through the shadows and I feel myself getting wet, feel my nipples stiffen, feel my body swell with blood in anticipation. The ropes tighten as I strain forward. The heat is unbearable.

And then there you are, my sadistic saviour in the shadows. You snag your fingers in my hair and pull my head back violently. I feel your teeth against my skin and my body convulses as you bite into the smooth pale flesh of my neck. I am delirious with pleasure. Now those teeth are on my nipples, nipping and biting and I feel your tongue, your lips sucking at me, and in this darkness and this heat my entire body is aflame. I arch my back and thrust up involuntarily, my cunt is aching to be touched, and then I feel your breath warm against my wetness and your teeth scrape my clit as you suck me while saliva trickles down my chin. I feel the rope burn through the skin of my wrists and ankles, feel the sting as blood mixes with sweat, and I come violently against my restraints in waves of savage pleasure.

I'm still moaning weakly, the taste of stale rubber on my tongue, as you remove the gag, wipe away the drool, untie my wrists and ankles and kiss me softly on the lips. I become dimly aware of the sound of your footsteps fading and I realize that I am alone here as the beast beside me ceases his roar and is silent.

Happy fucking new year!

Well happy fucking new year! It seems like ages since I last wrote to you. My sincerest apologies for the delay, but I accidentally cut myself right before the holidays. Slipped on a banana peel during cafeteria duty and landed wrists down on a couple of paring knives. Unholy stigmata. It was the strangest goddamn thing. I couldn't do it again if I tried. I wanted to write to you, really I did, but there are no computers in the infirmary, and I couldn’t hold my wrists up long enough anyway. But here I am, back in action and horny as ever. I hope you've missed me...


My mouth is watering. I'm salivating like a good buddy of Pavlov's, and all I can think of is you. I'm wet, alone in my room, and I remember how your lips felt on my neck, how your nipples felt between my teeth, how your tits felt in the palm of my hand, so like and yet unlike my own. I cup my breasts with both hands and feel my nipples harden and I remember the first time I kissed you, how soft your lips were against mine. I remember the taste of your cunt, musky and vaguely salty, so like and yet unlike my own. I slip my fingers between my legs as I remember lapping at your clit like a hungry kitten, the way you shuddered and moaned beneath my lips as you came. And I shudder and moan and all I want is to be out of this godforsaken asylum so that I can sink my teeth into the pale smooth flesh of your neck and let your copper blood run down my throat.

salutations

Greetings from the bughouse, fuckers! The funniest thing happened to me today. It was during free time and this inmate who gets caught regularly masturbating to romance novels with long-haired he-men on the cover leans over to me, fingers knuckle-deep in her hairy old twat, and whispers, "What's the big deal with oral sex? They're always having oral sex." I nearly fell off my chair. This from the mouth of a woman who can’t keep her fingers out of her cunt and whose crimes include, well, I can’t tell you about her crimes, but believe me when I tell you that she really is fucking bonkers. Anyway, when she interrupted me I was reading my old dog-eared copy of Violette and I guess I'm feeling rather romantic tonight...

I am wet in anticipation. You are on your knees in front of me, and you give me that little wink as you lower your face to my pussy. I feel the warmth of your breath and it gives me a warm feeling in my belly. Your five o'clock shadow scrapes my thighs. You run your tongue teasingly from my asshole to my clit and it tickles and I grab your head with my hands and push you down. Quit fucking around and eat me. And you oblige, placing your hands under my ass cheeks and raising me up to you like you're drinking out of a goddamned golden chalice. My hands are in your hair as you lick me, suck me, slide your tongue along my glistening lips, a sharp intake of breath as you slip two fingers into my slit and one up my asshole. Heat radiates from the centre of my body; at this moment I am nothing but cunt. I'm panting and moaning and thrusting my pelvis up towards you as you thrust your tongue your fingers into me as you fuck me with your mouth and you focus your tongue on my clit and oh oh oh oh god I'm coming and I'm riding that glorious wave of pleasurepain and I shudder and die a sweet sweet death.

a message from the asylum

Ah there you are! It’s Fornicator. You must remember me; you spurted all over your monitor the last time we were together. You’re welcome, by the way.

Holy Christ, people around here have been miserable. Is it like that out there in the real world, too? The wind howls outside my barred window and I have terrible dreams and winter threatens, my sweet lovelies, and that Winter, she's a cunt. But don't let her get you down. I'll keep you warm, if only for a little while...

I'm naked, straddling you as you lay on the bare stained mattress on the floor in the corner of this filthy decaying crackhouse. People lay around us in various states of intoxication-whores with needles still hanging out of their veins and their tiny addicted babies who won't shut the fuck up, kids high on cheap beer and LSD, bums drunk on Listerine, everybody trying to stay out of that godforsaken wind. It's dark and the place reeks of piss and vomit and sex. I reach down between my legs and feel the thick wetness there and smell the metallic musky smell of my blood on my fingers. I paint my name on your chest in my blood, marking you, staking my claim, and your erection is my reward. I lower myself onto you and suddenly we are alone here in this foul room, and my cunt is alive, slippery with blood, and I fuck you until the heat flushes my body from head to toe and I come in spasms and I feel you come violently inside me and the thought of all those poor sperm surging uselessly forward makes me throw my head back and laugh, banshee laughter rising with the wind.

oh Humbert...

Hey. Fornicator From The Asylum here. As if you didn’t know. Cocksuckers. So, what have you been up to? This could be a two-way street, you know. Selfish bastards, looking to me to get yourselves off and never offering me so much as a sliver of fantasy in return, not the tiniest taste of what makes you cream in your silk panties, not an iota of what makes you come in your perfectly-creased trousers. Bunch of uptight assholes. But here you go anyway. I'm feeling generous. Not to mention horny as hell...

You sign in under the name Humbert, which cracks me up. The desk clerk hands you the key to room 9 and we drive around to the back of the motel, away from the noise of the highway. As you turn the key in the lock, I become aware of the sound of my heart pounding in my ears, sending blood pulsing to my nipples, my lips, my pussy, engorging me, getting me ready. You flip the lightswitch and the bare bulb throws its glare over the faded pumpkin-orange carpet and almost-matching curtains, which hang limply from the rod. Hopefully not a portent of things to come, I think to myself, and giggle. You slap me across the cheek. Sorry, daddy, I smile, and you slap me, not unkindly, across the other cheek. I grin.

While you pour yourself a drink, I perform my striptease, seductively unbuttoning my blouse, letting it slip from my shoulders, stepping out of my schoolgirl miniskirt and pink panties, until I am standing in front of you wearing only a thin black bra and matching thigh-high stockings and heels. And then you are on top of me, pushing me backwards onto the burgundy bedspread and its pattern of cigarette burns and old cum stains. I feel the mattress springs pressing into my back like some twisted form of acupuncture, I taste the bourbon on your breath, I feel your dick pressing its way into me, carving me out, filling me up. You kiss me wetly and pinch my nipples beneath my bra until I cry out. Fuck me, I plead. And you do. I dig my stilettos into the backs of your calves, drawing blood, and I scrape my fingernails down your back as the mattress protests and you fuck me fuck me fuck me until I am raw. You come in one final violent thrust and I press myself up, rubbing my aching clit against you until I come, too. We lie together, still breathing heavily, while you reach over to the nightstand and light a cigarette, exhaling into my mouth. I feel you beginning to soften inside me, feel the semen trickling out of my cunt, and when we leave this shit-hole motel room, we leave our own stains on the threadbare burgundy bedspread.