Sex in San Francisco

I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of the world, naked in this studio that is slowly filling with dirt and discarded liquor bottles in Nob Hill. Like this entire apartment could break out of this building and go spinning into space, beyond time, into another dimension, and none of us would really notice. Everything is otherworldly in this tangle of flesh and knotted blankets, the accoutrements of fucking strewn haphazardly here and there, discarded garments in disarrayed piles, a sense of disquiet and disorder in every corner.

I came here to fuck. I look around at my companions in chaos, and I know what brought them here, too. This, like an abandoned outpost on our way into the grand journey of death, a slight reprieve, a place to hide in plain sight, a god damn flop house.

At first I felt like I didn’t belong. This is a den of addiction and demise, and I tell myself I am pretty and too perfect to belong in a place like this, but I keep coming back nonetheless. I am not drunk beyond recognition or high on meth, so I am not like the rest of them. But I am here. I have come here to scratch my unscratchable itch, to bury myself in the synthesized sensations of dick beyond the drudgery of my quotidian lifestyle. This is an indulgence. A bender. I am a bad girl in a bad place.

He sinks himself into me and wraps himself around me. I cannot breath, I cannot move, I cannot escape. But I didn’t come here to feel human, I came here to fuck. To make love. To have sex. To feel loved. Like a god damn drug, and I am sneaking around this city finding love in all the wrong places. Even as I lie there, naked and ashamed, I know: this is the only place I could come to find love, anyways. There is no love in all the right places. I know because I have looked. I have experienced love in all its paltry, meager expressions, but here, in this hell, love is real.

He grips my face and pours his eyes into my eyes. I am hanging on with all my heart, and I would like to never let go, to never have to leave this place, to never leave him. I want to be here, where I am safe with him, forever. I want to perish with him between these walls without the rest of the world clawing its way back in remind me that the person I am outside of this room is the person that I never want to be again but will always be as soon as I leave.

He licks my lips and tells me he loves me. I can’t remember the last time I came so close to a sense satisfaction in this life, but between fits of sleep and being devoured by his dick, I almost start to feel complete.

“Do I belong to you?”

“You belong to me. You are my pet.”

“I am yours, and you are the devil.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s