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.
