Smoking a cigarette, watching on old Brando movie while my girlfriend gives me head. It’s been a slow weekend and I’m just waiting for Tuesday to come.nextTuesday. I’ll have to see them again. Them referring to my supposed best friends. I flew into Vegas a week before I was supposed to but I don’t care. Had to get away, had to seek... something. Just wish I knew what that something was.
For some reason, I’m not finding pleasure in what my girl is doing. None at all. Just... nothing. I pull her off my cock and get up off the couch. Walk to the balcony, she follows.
“What’s wrong?” I love her. She knows me inside and out. Ran away from home when she was twelve, molested by her father, ignored by her mother and raped by her uncle. Her life is nothing but sex. I’ve dated models, actresses, singers, dancers but none compare to her. She is a nobody. I love it.
“Thinking.”
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
“Yeah. Really.”
She walks behind me and for a split second I actually want to be held. She lights her cigarette instead. “Go out. Fuck a stripper, something. Just get out.”
“What about you?” I steal the cigarette from her lips. Inhale. I need a cigar.
“Like you care.”
She’s right. I may love her but I don’t care if she died right then and there. Like I said, she is nothing. She leaves me alone and heads for the bathroom, stripping off what little clothing she had on. I’m bored and my dick is starting to itch. I need to get laid.
Now.