April Eleven: Illness

I hang out at this cafe in Sacramento where the girls are cute and the guys are timid. It’s quiet and studious except the music which is just slightly louder than I want it to be. It’s at that volume where it’s too loud to be background music but it’s not really loud enough to bitch about without being elderly. My strategy is this; I go with my laptop on battery and sit at the bar where there are no electrical outlets and when a girl comes in at sits somewhere else, I sit next to her so I can plug in my computer. I also bring cigarettes in case there’s a girl outside that I want to talk to. They hang this awful art on the walls. There’s this gawky, tall faggot who put brightly colored cloth on a bunch of coat hangers and the cafe’s proprietors had the nerve to cover every inch of the walls with them. It was so cluttered, it ruined my game for weeks. It looked like a house owned by an old lady with a serious hoarding problem; some shit you would hear about on NPR at eight o’ clock in the morning that would make you feel sad. Every time I see a sort of cute broad studying or lesson planning or working or whatever, I always hope she has a hairy pussy. I hope so badly that she doesn’t disgrace her mons pubis with a razor. I try to imagine it there, labia squished on the chair, hair coming out of the tapered part of her full-assed, white panties with that frilly trim. I also hope her pussy isn’t grossly hairy either though. It’s a fine balance. But mostly I want to set in motion the series of events that get her to invite me to shove my cock in said hairy pussy. And I want her to lay in post coital bliss and be so viscerally satisfied with the deep-dicking I gave her, and the faux-non-consensual fucking, that she worships at the alter of my cock and puts no other cocks before mine. This usually happens too. If the sex happens, I mean. Usually the conversation goes nowhere and I’m left to wonder about the pubes thing. It’s like giving alcohol to a teenager. They love you for it. Banging some whore from the suburbs with a shaved pussy is like giving alcohol to a drunk millionaire. I guess I just want to be appreciated.

I’m sick again because I have weak constitution. People love to tell me that they remember the last time I was sick because it was a month ago and how they haven’t been sick in three years. Assholes. Anyway, I was supposed to go to my former girlfriend’s house and preview some videos that she’s going to show for sex ed. She’s a middle school teacher. We broke up a month ago and now she goes out on dinner dates with guys who spend money on her and then calls me to come over and fuck her. It’s nice. I used to take her to Del Taco and then make her lick my ball sack while jerking me off. She tells me expensive wine tastes better. I wouldn’t know. Sex ed videos have always freaked me out. I hate looking at the insides of peoples’ bodies. Videos of fetuses have to be among the worst things to look at. I can’t even joke about this shit, it just makes me feel too weird to watch or even think about for too long. They always play the creepiest music when the sperm are swimming too. But I know if I was able to get over the trauma of those videos, I would have banged her. It would have been really good too – it always is. She’s petite. She has the body of a high school freshman. She has a hairy pussy.

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