7-25-2020
I went shooting with her. Showed her how to use the gun. Out past the fire restrictions by Mojave. I’d like to go shooting a hot load of goo right in her ovulating pussy—
Really I want to wake up with her in a cabin above the snowline. Breathe in the smell of her hair. Kiss the edge of her ear a little. Gently wake her. Watch out the window with her back against me as snow blows off the pine boughs. Could it be her.
Wanting to hold on to a woman. Like wanting to hold on to good weather. Or maybe there’s such a thing as relationship game. Domestic abuse. But it’s too much work to be mean. I like her. I like her and I want to tell her.
We watched a Terrence Malick movie. Her nipples the size and shape of gun range ear plugs. I love them. I love every part of her. I want to merge with her cells. I don’t care if my kid’s an Elliot Rodger HAPA. Sorry, I’d have given you an Aryan Valkyrie mother. But this is what I like.
She got married to her boss she met at sixteen. At her summer job in high school. He was 40. Where do you get these jobs. She dated an abusive six foot five white man who slapped her in front of her family. Says she didn’t like it. But how long did she stay with him. Self-conscious about her small tits. I love them. You want to show me your cock, she said. And I did. Managed to pull it out while leaving my long gross nuts in my underwear. Hiding them like an alcoholic father you don’t invite to the wedding.
The movie was good. Christian Bale moves through a dreamscape of regret in a series of disassociated scenes, against mythic backdrops in Los Angeles. Five stars.
Why wouldn’t she fuck me. But I don’t care. I’m at that old man stage where I just want to kiss down her belly on a hot day and inhale. The shirt I was wearing smelled like her. I couldn’t keep it on today. It put me in a trance.
I want to wake up with you in a cabin above the snowline. Snow blowing off the pine boughs. A dangerous feeling. But just let me have it. Just one more time.
She said no even though you had a gun?!