Chapter 5

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Chapter 5

Desolation Black

We were doing it on a rocking chair.

Her skin was tanned, like a coffee bean.

"Push." She said.

Her eyes were black, glossy like a black pearl inside its shell.

"Oh damn, its going wilder." She exclaimed. She gave out a loud moan. "I have never fucked anyone on a rocking chair."

She was curvy and demanding. May be she was a dominatrix, whatever the fuck she was, she was worth humping.

"Can I bite your lips?" She asked.

I nodded in agreement. Her hair smelled of jasmine, the shampoo that she used was said to be hundred percent organic. No fucking shampoo is hundred percent organic.

She bit my lower lip, near the scar. It punctured again, bleeding.

"Umm." She whimpered. "Boy, you surely are tasty."

She was wearing a push up bra. A push up bra actually destroys the shape. It makes your muscles lazy and you go saggy before you expect and then look for silicon substitutes, sad.

She kept licking it as I closed my eyes into pleasure. I had always seen her in a ponytail but she was looking more gorgeous with them hair open. Her lips sealing with mine, locked in my blood.

"Oh damn, you're bleeding."

"Don't stop." I mumbled.

Getting a grip of her behinds, I spanked them, making them wiggle. They were soft, as soft as thick cream you get after buttering out milk. Like two firm round sponges.

"Once more." She said jumping on my lap. "Spank my ass, Black!"

I looked into her eyes, beaming into mine. Camus once said,' we continue to shape our personality all our life. If we knew ourselves, we should die.' It's like everyone is wearing a mask, a face over a face over a face over a face. We all try to be presentable, up to the fucking standards people decide for us, for everyone. Sometimes you're out of luck, your face, your height, your eyes, the way you talk, the way you comb your hair, the way you fuck, it's not up to standard.

I slapped her tightly, harder than before, she shrieked. Her tongue dangling out, licking her lips. She started doing it harder.

"Bite me." She yelped.

But what's standard? I was in eighth grade when our biology teacher asked us a few questions. "How many of you own a car and an AC?" Some of raised our hands, some of us didn't. "You belong to higher middles class." He said to the ones who raised their hands. "The rest of you are from lower one." It was the moment of enlightenment. The equality in the air was long gone. There used to be one faction of assholes in the class, the whole class but now we had two, the upper class assholes and the lower class assholes. I hated both of them but I belonged to the lower class, the more fucked up people. We were divided.

"Why all this shit?" I asked. "You are not the person who talked to me online."

"I was the one in the pictures though." She said getting off me. "Can you pass me my underpants?"

"Who was I talking to?" I asked. "This whole fucking time?"

"Sometimes Travis." She said hooking up her brassier. "Sometimes me."

I sat there, not surprised. People disappoint you, that's why I hate people. Either you end it up in a short period, being good friends or stick to it longer, with shallow memories and shitloads of regret.

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