Always and Plump Lips

Always and plump lips

When he saw her his mind wandered towards the Flight of the Conchords song “Most Beautiful Girl in the Room”. ”Looking round the room…I see you standing all alone by the stereo, I dim the lights down very low, here we go, You’re so beautiful...you could be a part…time…model”. He began to think of this song, because he was indeed looking around the room, partly because he was searching for something; what it was, he did not know, anything really, and partly because the shrooms he had taken before, were just starting to kick in. So, his looking around the room, was a result of him being completely fucked off his head on drugs, which made him unable to control his body and not knowing which way was what, so he wanted to explore every direction. At the same time. This did not go well; he fell to the ground with a massive thump and scraped his knees along the ragged carpet. This made his knees bloodied and sore. “Shit” he mumbled silently to himself. Not entirely silent, but so silent that if any were to have passed him in that very moment, they would have heard him; and they would have understood his agony and despair. Very large words for so little pain, but when you are older things just hurt so much more, because we do not only hurt our limbs now, like when we were young, but also our ego and it is this that hurts the most.

You could say that I lost my ego as soon as I did my first drugs, but I don’t know, who fucking cares. Anyways, where were we? Oh, yeah, the women standing near the stereo like in the band from New Zealand’s song. Well, she was not standing near a stereo; she was standing by the buffet in the restaurant. She was extremely beautiful, she looked towards me with a look that hurt my…arm, or was this the fact that I had just bumped into a door? No, it was her look, it felt as if she knew who I was, who I had been before, she knew the real me. “Always” it seemed her lips, which were plump unlike anything I had ever seen before, what I would do to see those wrapped around my cock, fuck now I am horny, sorry about that. But it seemed her lips formed the words “always”. In reality she was trying to ask me if I was “alright”, because I was now lying on the ground, franticly trying to get up without success, and she wanted to help.

I came back from the bathroom, in which I had just shot myself with ketamine, and I thought of her again. I remembered her always and plump lips, but I could not recall much else of her, I was so fixated on her always and plump lips, which would look exceptionally good around my cock, maybe painted with red lipstick. Did she have red lipstick on? Maybe, I could not remember. What had she worn? A dress he thought; short and slutty he wished. Boots, definitely boots, not over-the-knee high, but they were high. And hair that swung seductively with a mixture of black, brown, and red. He did not know fuck all of this, he was just imaging his perfect women and hoped that she would match the description. He struggled to eat a piece of overly toasted bread and nibbled at some scrambled eggs, while downing an absinth scotch combo. This seemed to calm his nerves and he regained some of his composure.

As he was leaving the hotel restaurant, he looked around the room, to see if she was still there. She was not. Since he felt so good after the absinth scotch combo, he thought he would treat himself to something else, something calming, so he went to the unisex bathroom, where he joyously shot himself with heroin and smoked a joint into the air-conditioning. When he came out, with his pants partly undone, she was there, the always and plump lips woman.

He took her to his room, which was to his own surprise ladled with roses and smelled of lavender. He led her in, the always and plump lips woman, who was in fact wearing a short, black, slutty dress which had trouble containing her breast, with high boots, not over-the-knee, but to the knee, the most glorious black, brown, red hair, and red lipstick on her blowjob-lips. She took control and pushed me to the bed, kissed me intensely, it tasted of plums. She moved down my body, opening my Calvin Klein shirt, button for button with a warm, gentle, red kiss on each section which before had been disguised by a button. It left red plump lip marks. She was now at the edge of his pants, where she undid his belt and placed a red mark on his underpants. What blood he had left shot from his brain to his cock in an instant. He was going to get what he had wanted, fantasised about, he was going to see her plump lips wrapped around his cock. She pulled down his underpants, his cock sprang forth with great force, and she placed a red plump lip mark on his tip. He woke.

He dammed himself furiously for waking up! “It was just starting to get good” he screamed.

When he came to his senses, he saw to his surprise that the woman with the plump lips in reality was a pineapple dressed in a wig with plums laying before it, the beautiful roses were syringes, faeces, and someone’s cat, probably his, which lay dead across the floor since it had been neglected food for a long period. It had all been a dream, a wonderful, beautiful, just like her, dream. The only real part had been the drugs.

“Always and plump lips” he said to himself as he injected another speedball into himself and fell into another of many lulled pleasant sleeps.