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I haven't slept much in the last few days. Cigarettes are starting to taste bad. The caffiene has dried my throat a bit, and the rainy-cold weather has forced my clothes to take a thug-ish taste: beaten jeans, dark-grey pullover, black leather coat (not a jacket, a fucking coat), black leather boots, and my black cap. I feel mean and I'm tired, annoyed, and drained.

I want to deal, right now, in all the ways they tell you not to. They're the same ways I deal everytime I feel this kind of tension.

I want to fuck. That's right, you heard me. Aggressive, dominating, 6'6" of pure masculine desire to have intense, wild, and un-prepared sex whenever and wherever the mood strikes me. Clothes ripping, panties shredding... a real look of the combination of suprise, shock, and sensual desire never leaving your face.

I'm not talking coitus, I'm not talking about making love, I'm not talking about "merging souls" or anything more complicated than animal and primal sex. You being enjoyed, every inch, every taste, every crevice I feel like touching or tasting or simply toying with being right fucking there. All mine. Being taken. Taken hard, fast, long... taken everywhere you wanted to go, but couldn't get to with butterfly kisses and caution. Taking you places you won't be able to feel your legs in. How often does that really happen, huh?

...

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