This December I newborn pants legs. A déjà vu as they are hung on high heels in the gravel of a parking lot, waiting to inhale poison of a man who never stops when it comes. The north
strangles me as the black leather glove on the throat of a bitch.
are also dressed like a slut, rigged like a whore. She wanted him.
The difference is that the whores are paid, but tonight I have to pay for this room.
But the money does not interest me, the only thing I need is to be filled with pleasure that I will when I have to pretend to enjoy.
It's always been that way since we were in others. And so it is now that those others are no longer the other three years ago.
Peter is the failure of a life attitude of being perfect. Two men in their forties
I pass by, smelled of alcohol and dirt stuck to the skin. They approach the entrance of the hotel. One is tall, balding but with long hair tied in a ponytail. The other is fat and bald.
disappear quickly behind the metal door, lit by two small lanterns on either side.
is where we spent our first night in this hotel which peddles sex badly cut with lies.
"I do not love me, I play too much" - he told me the next morning.
was late, I was already sick of him.
Then he's gone, no reason, without explaining.
pitch dark winter afternoons yellowed leaves from reels screaming loneliness.
is back. And he wants everyone to be reborn here, where he started. Without money, without pride, without love. But all that's missing I do not need.
I go up and ring the bell.
"I booked a double."
"What name?"
"Donati."
"Cash or card?"
'accounts' - Of course.
"Here, number four. I'll show? "
" I know the way. "
Peter opens the door. Say hello to me, hugs me, kisses my neck. I sit on the bed. Laying the bag on the floor in his hand, pulls out three glasses and bottles of wine.
It opens and pours a little 'just for him, and without saying anything began to undress with one hand while the other holds the glass.
Naked.
"Get up."
obey.
observe his perfect profile while he takes off his glasses and resting them on the bedside table.
"You're beautiful" - he says as a finger on my left abdomen.
"Ten Euros for the glasses you could also buy spend it. "
smiles.
He gets up, pours more wine into his glass, this time for me. I drop a few drops on his belly to suck on, then asks me to drink, I do. Fills his glass, he kisses me, I feel his tongue slip into all my fears, while alcohol does the rest. I drink again and again and again. Peter
licking my breasts, sucking them, fucking them with his tongue. I would immobilize him between the legs for not doing more to go.
But it goes away, and goes back to look for something in the envelope.
"Do you trust me?" - He asks.
says no.
smiles again. It makes me lie down on one side, tie one on my wrists to the headboard the bed, I put a black patch over his eyes.
wants to play.
His footsteps away, the door creaking, then closes, the sound of the plastic bag.
And yet the wine that goes down into the glass, the spark of a lighter and something hot that I slipped down my spine.
I writhe a bit 'but I adapt quickly. Should be wax. Another candle, another wax, a curve. Another candle wax still still a curve.
imagine a "P" on the back.
whore.
Whore of wax. From model, to sculpt.
makes me turn belly up. I find it hard to hold that position, his arms tied behind the rest will do me. I feel
the sound of his city decided that pops up, opens my legs and I enter in with a bang.
I put a hand to his mouth. Two deep thrusts, then stops.
"Do you trust me?"
I shook my head.
began to return, once, twice, three times, louder and louder, go lower and lower. I hear him in the stomach. It leaves me free lips, moves her hand over her hair, pulling back, it hurts.
"Do you trust me?".
'No'.
I want more. And even stronger. I think he died. I would die.
He stops and begins to slip up, inside and out, in and out like a knife through butter, melted by the heat of summer.
Inside and out, as if he were teaching someone how to fuck a woman. I imagine his wonderful cock shiny, proud and rotten, and that fills me with even more cruelly me cruelly empty, body and soul.
begged him to remove the bandage from her eyes, I see his eyes close and his mouth opens. Says no.
does not trust me.
Inside and out, to live out and die inside, I took the chin, turn me around, I feel pain in the neck; m'infila two fingers in his mouth, he also explores what, in the dark. The sap and leaves the mouth open. Look
that filled my throat as tears fill my eyes already.
"Stop it." The bed
eases, Peter gets up. Even the sound of hands rummaging in the bag.
I taste the taste of cotton, a snare, maybe another bandage. Me the league behind the head, pushing too much on the edges of the mouth. I feel pain.
He kisses her cheek. It is a kiss clean. Almost a request for forgiveness. Almost a farewell.
"Do you trust me?"
no longer answer.
approaching footsteps.
reeks of alcohol and dirt stuck to the skin.
I try to struggle, I try to scream. I try to die. But I can not.
"We are equal" - the voice of Peter walks away - 'now I can not break my balls more. "
noises in the room. The door still creaks, and still closes. Male voices speaking a language I do not know, heavy shoes that fall on the floor, coins that jingle in your pockets. I imagine them both and still wearing the sweater with the cocks.
The smell of alcohol is approaching, the sound of a spit. I turn back on your side, I feel a finger enter my fat behind and rough.
"You there," - says one in broken Italian, but I enter it in the ass. Grunts like a pig. I feel his sweaty belly slam on the back.
"Now I take this" - the other voice whispers in my ear touching the bandage in my mouth. Her hair tickling my breast - "if you scream I'll kill you" - and without even giving me time tries to answer in his mouth. I keep my lips, I'll get a slap. I let it go, fuck me in the mouth for interminable minutes before coming to my throat while the other continues to push in all its disgusting orgasm.
I want to vomit.
mouth back empty.
Vomiting and fill it again.
Then, I no longer feel anything. Just stinks. Only pain. Inside and out.
noise that laces are tied, the sound of coins in the pockets of his trousers.
wine that goes down into the glasses.
reeks of alcohol and dirt stuck to the skin that comes close for the last time. Hot breath in my ears. No mercy for me, just words to Peter. Once again, everything only for Peter.
"The gambling debts are paid. Forever. "
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