Friday, October 12, 2012

It's Obviously Complicated In My Dreams

Posting or reposting drafts left in my blogger folder.

I am counting matchsticks on the dining-room table of my childhood home. I count three, then move them to the side, then count another three. I am small. Muppet Babies is on TV. Kermit and Miss Piggy have decided to have sex. Everything is in black and white. I get caught up in it. Things do not go well and their nanny catches them in the act.

I smile and turn back to threading Fruit Loops on a string. I have one eye covered with an eye patch. This is an activity that will do nothing for me. My eye will not get stronger. The problem is in both of my eyes, though the sickeningly sweet eye doctor who makes me uncomfortable whom my mother has me going to never does figure out the actual problem.

I begin to eat the cereal off the string and I look up to see that The Snorks are on. The black and white does not do them justice. I move a chair to the fridge, stand on it, and turn off the TV. I glance back at my game of solitaire on the table. I cannot win it without cheating. I go outside.

I am fourteen years old. I hop on my bicycle and am instantly transported to the park where She goes with her children and husband. They are there. Their autistic son is humming and squealing on the merry-go-round with his father. Their daughter is running toward me, her hand outstretched. She wants to play. Already, I hate children, but I am good with them and She is watching, so I follow the girl to a fort made of wood and metal with a slide attached. We climb up the ladder and stand on the platform.

"Arg! We're pirates, Mommy!"

And She smiles up at us. Her eyes twinkle up at me. She looks right at me. I start floating, as if I'm being filled with helium. They get farther and farther away. I can no longer see the park. I flip on my back and look at the rapidly approaching clouds. I'm swept into one. It's cold and wet.

I stick in the cloud. There is fog in my eyes. I try to swim out, but my leg is shackled to something. I reach for my ankle and feel the iron, thick and rusted, secured to an equally thick and equally rusted chain. I pull myself along the chain, following it back down through the cloud and around. It is attached to a floating pirate ship.

I climb up onto the ship and She sees me. She brings the key to my leg iron and squats beside me. She runs her fingers through my hair.

"It's time to grow up now. It's time to stop calling."

She puts the key in the lock. It feels like She's putting the key directly into my ankle. The pain wells up and spills out of my ankle in bright blue rays of light.

"It's time for you to figure some things out. Move on."

She twists the key. I scream. I grab Her head and I squeeze as hard as I can. I try to pop Her head. She looks at me, unflinching. She is sad. She is disappointed. In me.

"I know," She says as she flings the leg iron open. "It's time to walk the plank."

I don't understand what she says. I repeat it. "It's time to walk the plank."

She takes my hand. The pain in my ankle is washed away. She pulls me to my feet. She looks me in the eye.

"I never needed you," She says. "You just imagined everything."

The pain from my ankle gathers in my heart, bright blue rays of light cascading from my chest. I take a running leap off the gangplank. I fall. I fall fast, the blue rays being lost behind me. I grow. I am an adult by the time I hit the land.

The blue light is just throbbing in my chest. It is muted, beneath the skin. It no longer hurts. But I know that it will always be there. A car passes my head and I realize I've landed in a ditch. Another car passes, throwing gravel at me.

I stand. I walk into the forest preserve. I am cruising. I am looking for someone to make me feel anything. The old men who are always there don't even look my way anymore. They know I am like them. I am not here to present myself in all my glory and be worshiped. I am here to do the worshiping.

I walk through the trees, listening to the fall leaves crunch beneath my feet. The trees are deep golds and reds and browns. I can smell the autumn mingling with the basest kind of sex. I sidestep used rubbers and broken beer bottles, silently judging those that left them to mar such a beautiful place.

I see him running between the trees. I know him. I recognize his features. He's back and I know to want him. I begin to run, chasing him from place to place, I keep following until I can no longer see him. I am far off the trail. I do not know my way back.

I see a flash of skin behind a tree. I walk toward it, prepared to drop to my knees and fill my mouth. Prepared to run if need-be.

I round the tree and do not see him. I drop to my knees. You are looking down at me.

"Good morning, ___."

I open my mouth to speak, but can tell that it's not expected of me and close it again.

"Were you here to suck some cock? Were you being a little slut?"

I nod, my mouth open again. I want to feel the soft skin entering, invading. I want to feel the skin move over the hardness beneath it, as if perfectly lubed on the inside. I want it to fill my mouth. I want to taste a bitter salty tang that moves from the tip of my tongue to the back of my throat. I want to feel the pulsing in my mouth. My mouth is open. In waiting. I am looking at your knees.

You lift a leg and firmly place your foot at my chin. I can feel the sharpness of the toe of your shoe as it steers my gaze upward. I look at your face. My mouth is still open. In awe. In lust. I no longer know how I'm feeling.

You push me back, stretching my legs as my shoulders hit the ground, my knees folded beneath me. It hurts my knees. But you don't care. You step over me and I can see your cunt drawing near. I take a breath, preparing myself, but you're atop me too quickly and I breathe you in. I taste you. I bite you and attempt to eat you like a peach. Sweet juice runs down my chin and pools at my collarbone. You force yourself into my mouth. I feel your clit mid-tongue, poking at me, daring me to attack. I move my tongue, attempting to stimulate, but not knowing how, having never had a clit this far in my mouth before, having never had to deal with labia taking space in my mouth, making it harder to negotiate where my tongue ends and you begin.

I hear you moan. I realize how hard I am. My cock hurts. I shift to put my fingers around it. You lift my head by the hair and attempt to shove more of your pussy into my mouth and the juice begins to drown me. I stroke my cock. It is already wet. My precum has drooled down the shaft. Stroking is easy.

I rub my tongue against your clit, as fast as I can. You start to shake. You hump your pussy into my face until you go over. You pull away and I gasp for air I don't need. I need you back in my mouth. My hand moves quickly on my cock.

You notice what I'm doing and you slap me.

"Did I tell you you could do that?"

I automatically open my hand, spreading my fingers. My cock slaps me in the belly. You place it at your entrance and sink onto it. You don't treat me like anything but a toy. You do not want your toy spent. You are not angry. You are not anything. You are enveloping my cock. You are hot and tight and wet and you are slipping so easily on me.

But this isn't what I want. I want your mouth. I want something in my mouth. That's why I came here. I try to sit up, to reach your mouth, but you push me back down, roughly, my head striking a rock on the ground.

You roll me over and I am on top of you. I know better than to not plunge inside of you. I briefly panic and make sure my cock is still there. It is. It feels like it's going to explode, but I know it's not allowed. I try to kiss your mouth, but you turn away, denying me that. I catch a nipple in my mouth.

I feel your hands at my hair, trying to pull my mouth away from you. I suck harder. I resist. I feel you ripping hair from my scalp. I feel blood dripping through my remaining hair. Sticky and hot.

And you disappear from beneath me. And I am falling again. I am falling and on the edge of cumming. I feel empty. My mouth feels empty. My pussy feels empty. My dick is large and red and pulsing. And I'm still falling.

I land in a ball pit. I bend my cock. It hurts, but I bend it toward my own pussy and enter myself. I sink into the ball pit as I move my cock in and out of my pussy. I sink through the balls and am falling again. I turn over.

I wake up. I write it all down.

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