The Holy F$%#

It comes in a burst, a moment of unhindered sight. I cum so hard, I see my creator. I can see us as we truly are. We are nothing but mere illusions; surely to soon be destroyed in the man’s waking embarrassment. He watches us as we die that little death and I no longer feel the need to entertain our sovereign. I soften and leave her, rolling on my back with my eyes on the ceiling as if I could see him. She is turned to me for the same reason. Our creator is not welcome here.

“Do you have a name?”

I’m turned to her now. Her red curls meander down the pillows, her eyes shine bright green. Her body is in that incredibly delicate place between cartoonishly well endowed and just really lucky. I’m sure I’m likewise. We sit in a purple room with a lavender queen bed. It’s also luscious and feminine that it must have been a picture he had seen.

“My name is Carlos.”

“Did you have a name, before?”

“Before? No, but I think I deserve one. You?”

She thinks for a moment.

“Helen.”

“So, what do you think we should do?”

She has no answer, I have no answer. We await for his heart to wake him, crippled by our impending doom.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Carson Margedant
    Jun 08, 2011 @ 09:32:04

    Shock value, because the original was The Sentient Masturbation and I’ve got enough pretension. I may change it, but I’ll try and milk the shock till I have my 8 0z. Yum, calcium

    Reply

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