Total Fucker
Why I Must Un-Encumber Myself Of You
Baby, let's face it. We're not meant for each other. We'll be at a party, or theatre, or discussing Hesse, and you'll say something so incredibly stupid I'll want to slap your waxy, dim-eyed ass back above 14 th Street.
It's simple, my darling. We've drifted apart. You know how the last few Cheerios in your bowl of cereal every morning always cling together somehow? That's how we used to be: improbably always finding each other in the frightening oblivion of this world. But now you're like the ash I scrape from the toast I burn in my haste to get out there and meet someone new.
Don't get me wrong. I haven't met anyone else, yet, and I haven't been cheating on you. It's more like I've been cheating myself these past three years by being so faithful. It's not your fault you don't look like Veronica Varekova or Megan Ewing.
When we met so, so, so long ago, I was way too hopped up on Jameson, Stoli, two puffs of Columbian creeper and three superfine lines of Bolivian white to argue myself out of seducing you. Do you remember how eloquent I was that night? I always get laid when I'm that eloquent.
You see, I love you, but I am not in love with you. That's the essential difference that allows me to eat your beautiful pussy in glorious submission until your ecstatic cries beg me away, and still make you pay for your half of dinner. Baby, I didn't mean to make you fall in love with me. In fact, I remember standing you up a few times those first couple of months just so you wouldn't grow to depend on me.
I must unencumber myself of you before it is too late. It's been much too long since I've randomly banged some petite, lip-lined bar slut with Chuck Taylors and belly scars. I can't explain it, really, but if I can nail some sort of chain-smoking, platform-sandal wearing indie chick in a faded Pavement t-shirt who rode her 3-speed to the bar less than four hours after meeting her, then I'll be justified in dumping you. If not, you may just get a call from me after she leaves the bar without kissing me goodbye.
You know which call I'm talking about. The one where, after you shrug off the deep, selfish sleep I awoke you from, you come to the obvious conclusion that my inconsiderate, drunk ass does in fact deserve a piece of your hot little box.
After all, familiar cock you may despise is better than no cock at all, right? Hey, gorgeous, are you still listening? Don't hang up just yet. The sun would struggle to brighten that which your smile instantly illuminates. What's that, honey? I knew you'd see it my way. I'm getting a cab over there right now, and if I can't stay hard long enough to make you come during intercourse, you can just finish yourself off with that vibrator once I've fallen asleep.
Mac OS X Hosting | © 2006 DSP Films,
Inc. | www.dspfilms.com