Rotten Bastards

It's a blog. It's a way of life. It's many things in between.

Saturday, 20 October 2007

Oh Mickey You're So Fine

I close my eyes and proceed.

The smell is familiar. The taste is too.

Salty, slightly bitter. That aromatic mix of pheromones, urine and vaginal fluid.

The bane of my existence. My panacea.

Right now, she means everything. The entire universe and all of existence are found within those sugar walls. All I have and all I want is right here. Right now.

I keep my eyes closed. I keep myself as concentrated as possible.

If she has a good time, I have a good time. That's how it works.

I can feel her moving.
Her thighs press in on my temples.
Her hips shift upwards towards my tongue.
I pull back.
I spread her lips apart and blow softly on her clit.
She giggles.
I look up at her.
She smiles.

I take a breath, close my eyes and get back to it.
Licking, sucking, kissing.
Fingers. One, two, three.
Clockwise. Anti-clockwise.

Shouldn't be much longer.
She usually takes around five minutes.

Her moans get louder.

I pick up the pace.

Faster. Harder. More intensity.

She grabs the back of my head with both hands and slams my face into her.
I can hear her groaning. Loudly.

Suddenly she arches her back, lets out a scream and squirts her love all over my face and in my mouth.

I smile at her as she lays there panting softly.

I look over at the bedside table and check the time.


Thursday, 18 October 2007

Oak Street

The 401 came to a lethargic halt.

Its doors appeared to gape open almost welcomingly, assuring me it was ok to pass through. The amiability of the doors, however, was of a cheap and insincere variety. Kind of like saying "good morning" to an asshole boss or customer. To maintain relations with the door, one has to produce $2.50. These same doors would gladly slam shut with a vice-like resentment if you couldn’t pay up.

Good morning sir, said the driver.

I dropped the coins into the slot of the moneybox at the front of the bus. 5 quarters, 3 dimes, 9 nickels and 2 washers.


Off we drove.

I looked for a place to sit down. The bus was completely empty. Talk about “freedom of choice”. I sat down, stretched my legs and opened my book. Page 1- “ The main purpose of assessment …”

The bus began to slow down. I looked up.

The bus came to a complete stop.

A girl got on, paid and sat behind me.

I resumed my reading, starting at the beginning of the opening sentence. “The main purpose of assessment is…"

A shrill little voice rose up over the seat.

What are you reading?

I turned around.

A book on constructing achievement assessments.

Oh, sounds exciting.


I began to read again “The main purpose of assessment is to…”

The sound of her voice pierced the air like reveille.

I almost missed the bus just now. I had to run to get to the stop on time.

I turned around.

Good thing you made it.

I began reading again “The main purpose of assessment is to enhance…”

Oh, great now my...


I looked down at my book lustfully, wanting to pounce upon that first sentence. To capture its full meaning. “The main purpose of assessment is to enhance student…"

The voice arose again.

Damn it! This is just awful. Can you believe it?

I pulled the yellow cord, which hung loosely along the top of the windows of the bus like powerlines in summer. It made a short, sharp buzzing noise. I looked out the window. Oak Street.

The bus stopped and I got off stepping onto the sidewalk.

Opening the book, I smiled reading the first sentence “The main purpose of assessment is to enhance student learning”.

Better Than an Orgasm?

The pain shot through me instantly while I sat in traffic. It tore at my insides and I could hardly bear it. I was a few minutes from home and I knew if I could make it there would be no serious accidents.

My eyes shot over to the cd player to see what time it was. 5:23. Fuck, I'm late getting home and this is why this is happening.

A greenlight flashes in front of my eyes yet the assholes in front of me are inching forward slowly. I can't honk at them, it might make things worse. My sides are aching with pain and I am trying not to double over. Fortunately the rest of the drive is trouble free.

I get to my block and speed down towards my house. The clock says 5:26 and I can't take it anymore.I jump out of my car while unfastening my seatbelt and run to the door of my house. I fumble with the keys and nearly drop them trying to unlock the door. It finally opens up.

I rush downstairs, open the door to the bathroom and drop my zipper.

What might arguably be heaven appears before me as I finally am able to piss and eleviate the pain. As I am finishing up I think to myself, "this may be better than an orgasm".

Tuesday, 16 October 2007

Right Now

It felt like a punch in the chest.

A punch in the chest with a warm creamy centre.

They tell you that when you die your whole life flashes before your eyes.

I'm guessing that bit will come later. Or maybe I'm not really dying.

Or maybe "they" are full of shit.

'Cause right now, all I can think of is the pain in my chest... and the creeping cold.

There's no time for nostalgia right now.