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She finally got tired of smoking crack and juggling coke bottles.
Attention span of a hyperactive puppy. She put on her tried and true cosmic waif denim mini skirt and psychedelic hand painted tattered tank top. She donned her purple shades and slid up beside me, panting like a raped drooling Lolita.
“What’s the plan, cigano?” she half whispered, half croaked, looking like an evil pirate.
I knew that was my cue to take her up in the loft bed and fuck her back to life.
She asked me to put some jazz on and I did. As I delved into the world of her sweet little chicken pie, she asked me who was playing the saxophone. I distractedly mumbled “Coltrane,” as I tasted her crack-scorched tongue with mine.
She surprised me by saying “John Coltrane?”
I said yeah, lost in her insane universe of endless surprise, while she ran her long witchy fingers up and down my back, delicately playing me like Coltrane playing that saxophone.
Finally she said “Hurry up, Cigano.” And I did. It was easy as I drank the vile wine of her stinking breath.
But I could tell she only half wanted me to hurry up and finish.
Against her will, she was getting excited too.
I can always tell, even if she can’t. Weird.
But it was already too late, I was already working the roller coaster car up to the top of the big hill and then suddenly, wheeeeeeee, I’m coming and dying and screaming and drooling like a rabid rottweiler, into her mouth, her cunt, her soul, as she plays me like John Coltrane’s fucking saxophone… and she is fucking me to death, and Iam dying again and again in her arms, coming, coming, and she’s laughing now, giggling just like Lolita, and she’s got my heart curled up like a sleeping cat in her crack-tainted claws, and I do not fucking care.

Copyright Jonathan Shaw 2008.

NOTIFICAÇÃO: Os eventos relatados neste site são contos de ficção registrados na Biblioteca Nacional com todos os direitos autorais revertidos ao autor Jonathan Shaw e Alessandra DeBenedetti. Os personagens mencionados são inteiramente fictícios. Certos eventos, personagens, lugares e relatos, foram baseados em fatos reais, porém qualquer semelhança a qualquer pessoa viva ou morta se trata de pura coincidência. As várias fotografias apresentadas se encontram com o rosto distorcido para preservar o anonimato das modelos que representam personagens fictícios.