No apologies, just a goodbye fuck to ease the boredom of our boring lives. When it’s over, I go to the bathroom while she wipes herself clean before messaging some guy she knows. Leaning over the sink, I wash my cock with the shower nozzle and then dab it dry with some tissue. It hurts, but there’s no blood, so it’s okay. Creeping out onto the landing, I press my ear against the door and hear her talking on her phone. She’s a desperate creature. She begs and pretends to be sincere, and after a while, she convinces the guy on the other end to pick her up. It embarrasses me. Her desperation, and my weakness at being driven by the dreary thing that dangles between my legs. To be human, it’s such an illness. Such an unfortunate ailment for the soul to endure. My soul, it’s a thousand years old in a body that’s known mere decades. It begs for release, and yet this soft machine is a curse that can’t be overcome by willpower alone. Stepping back into the room, she lowers the phone and brings the duvet up to cover her breasts. Just a few minutes earlier, I was sucking them while shoving my fingers into her mouth. Begging me to be gentle, she had gasped and gasped again as I went about biting her as hard as I could, and then she had relented and let me have what I wanted. Now, now she tells me to turn my head as she fetches her bra from the bedroom floor before slipping it on along with the rest of her outfit. It’s all so laughable, and I’m tempted to make a comment. To say something that will cut her to pieces, but she’s only lashing out the same as me, the only difference is that she uses her body while I use words. Those empty, empty words that seem to get me nowhere at all.

A Journal for Damned Lovers Volumes 1 & 2 on Amazon.co.uk

A Journal for Damned Lovers Volumes 1 & 2 on Amazon.com