the lies, the lies, the lies were mostly mine. and all i wanted was to fuck someone new. but desires are like tea: without water, it's just a bag of shit to carry around. I look at the sleeping face of the whore in the bed and i know she doesn't want any money because she doesn't want to be paid for not working. It's the protestant-work-ethic driven hard into her. When she does fuck, i don't even want to cum. Everyone knows, you don't pay if you don't cum. only money is guaranteed, not satisfaction. in the morning, she'll kiss my cheek again, thinking about how she doesn't want responsibilities. and i'll think about cumming in someone else's ass, without a condom, because disease is not dis-ease. And let's face it, everything is fixed with a pill or a shot, these days. But it's ok because doubling up with 2 forms of birth control saves everyone the hassle of abortions: fetuses, afternoons, lifetimes, relationships, fantasies.
screaming at low volumes
