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Guest Book

 

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www.Xanfactor.tk

Vol. 2 Issue No. 10/ July 2, 2005

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Birthday Boy

by Lexan B. Orantes

 

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            “You like that…?” you asked over and over again with your hungry mouth, your voice muffled by my skin… “Yes,” I moaned back… fuelling all the more your desire… deeper you go… lower you go… your mouth and tongue sliding slowly down the slopes of my body… you found my nipple… you sucked on it, your tongue frolicking… “Bite it…” I pleaded… You complied… Pain shooting all over my body… my mouth opening wide but no sound came out… just air hallowed… My head thrown back… my hand clutching your head… wanting you to stop… and when you do, regret… I push you back unto my skin… wanting you to let me feel that pain… that exquisite pain… my cock throbbing against your stomach, you reached for it to hold… gripping it so tightly… stroking it… you bite my nipple again… my knees wanting to let go and let my body fall in the bed… slowly, you lay me down… our hands entwined… fingers, fusing…

 

            “So, where to after this?” Paul asked as he unwraps a suman we bought… in a fastfood restaurant where we ordered coffee and breakfast meals…

            “We go home…” I answered, looking straight in his eyes… telling him I have not changed my mind about spending the rest of my supposed day alone.

            “Okay…” he backed off…

            “I plan to sleep the whole afternoon,” I continued, “hopefully, I would be able to sleep… nonetheless after it, I plan to gallivant…”

            “Where?” he asked taking a bite of the suman.

            “I’m not going to tell you,” I answered, “besides, I don’t know where yet…”

            He smirked.

            “It’s my thing…” I explained… I thought I should…

            “What, shutting the world?” he countered, “fine by me… just that if you want to be happy, which I think you do… you better start letting people in your life…”

            “You’re judgmental,” I concluded, “and I need a smoke…”

            “We are no longer smoking,” he reminded me.

            “I’m afraid I would find myself at Degree tonight…” I admitted out of the blue.

            He looked at me.

            “Again…” he uttered, knowing I was there just the night before.

            “Does Alex know we spend time together?” I asked changing the subject.

            “Yes…” he said.

            “What he said?” I asked again.

            “Nothing…” I answered.

            “Did you ask him?”

            “It’s really none of his business…”

            “True…” I commented, “still it hurts…”

            “Hurt?”

            “You not caring…” I answered, “I’m Alex, funny my name is just one letter short… actually new acquaintances always get my name as Alex.”

            “He should stop.” He decided.

            “As I should stop too… I tried…”

            “Try harder.”

 

            In the story of Adele H, she followed her object of obsession across the continent, abandoned everything in order to be near him… she walks the streets hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who had inflamed her soul. Years later, in the searing heat of a desert town, she runs into him… she meets the man who had unwittingly inspired her destruction—the hateful part was that he was unaware of the damages he had wrought… she walks past him… she looks at him but does not see him… the passion has consumed her thoroughly that even he, the original object, no longer matters to her.

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