If I’m on a high, then I’ll take a bite out of you, but if on the other hand, I’m in the midst of a great depression, I’ll just curl into a ball and hide away somewhere like a dying animal does when it senses the end. If you get through my defences and stir something that’s been sleeping, my hands will surely lead the way for my teeth and hips, and together in a frenzy, they’ll make a pretty mess out of you for sure. But what if this funk won’t leave? What if the electricity of your mind can’t reach me? Well, my guess is that you should try harder. Mother me by day, and smother me by night. Drown me in your flesh and worm your way into this feeble mind of mine. Be the spark, and ignite what remains of this damned lover. Right about now, I’m picturing us in a nice little cafe, one of those you get in spruced up garden centres. After perusing a generous candle display, I’m tucking into a jacket potato with cheese and red onion washed down with a cup of milkless tea. Sticking your feet on my lap while you devour your bacon bap, I’m sliding off your shoes and socks and rubbing my cock against your toes. I’m not a pervert or anything, so there’s no need to worry, and hardly anyone at the other tables is looking, so it’s fine. You’re reading me something from your phone in a poor attempt to disguise what’s going on. Sounds like a nursery rhyme of some kind, and as I’m trying to guess what it is, I sandwich my cock between both your feet and do my thing discreetly until the table jumps up and down and I slump into my seat with you complaining about the mess I’ve made. My fingers reach for a serviette, but there’s no conviction in my gesture, only mild shame and lethargy. What’s in it for me? This is what you ask while wiping my seedy seed off your skin, but I’m already thinking of something else. Remember that children’s TV show, Raggydolls? How about Dogtanian? Or SuperTed? My favourite was that Nickelodeon show, Are You Afraid of the Dark? Reminiscing oblivious to everything else, you help me up and we make our way to the checkout to pay for the candles we chose. Stood in the queue, I brush your hair away and bite the back of your neck and suck for a bit until my lips leave a reddened bruise. Wrapping my arms around your waist, I tell you about the circle around your nipples, the areolas, and how they resemble the underwater mountains that were in my dream the other night.

A Journal for Damned Lovers on

A Journal for Damned Lovers on

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