Tuesday, December 15, 2015

My Reasons to Fuck a Punk




Laura Linney once said to Richard Gere on Primal Fear  "This was a one night stand, that lasted six months" In this case the month mark has not been reached, but still, the point is exactly the same. I have been wondering why is it that I keep opening my door to this trickster, mischief-maker, borderline delinquent, anytime he wants.

I am claiming full responsibility for deciding I wanted to fuck him. I am claiming full responsibility for still keeping him so tight between my legs, and voluntarily deciding I didn't want to let go.
Here is the thing. When I look at him, I see a kid. I hear a teenager and I touch a boy.

I also deserve to be called a liar if I'd dare to say that I didn't taste a man and felt one. And let me tell you how a man taste like for me: it is combination between sugar cane, and night, and cigarretes, and alcohol, and all of that transformed in this delicious elixir that makes me wanna -not drink- but eat everything inside. And I felt him, when in his bedroom assertiveness  he tells me what to do and exactly, how he likes to fuck me. This is the man that can't contain himself when we are together and all the time wants to be inside of me. And... I want him back. That is probably the reason why we end up fucking an average of 9 times in less than 24 hours.

Yes, I count. I count because that shit, is crucial to me.

His endurance matches my appetite. Punks have 'calle' calle makes people gain a certain behavioral quality that makes them eat, fuck and live as if  everything was going to hell in a second.

In the stupor of sex, I have found his wisdom simply precious and I have reached the point where I understand the many tribulations of his soul, which I am almost sure, know by heart. I know how I sound, but examine your own life and tell me that more than once, you have also felt this type of intimacy. He has been condenmed by his lineage and suffers the pain of a privileged life without substance. This motherfucker is a devoted lover, only dedicated to  my orgasms and is a generous partner that also shares his feelings and talks about what no ones does 'cause people are too fucking afraid to admit that yes, you fell in love, if only for a minute. And so fucking what.

You and I have.

Punk has no past and no future. Particularly the latter.



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