Bound to Kill

I find it generally a good idea to follow porn video bloggers on tumblr. Finding porn videos on a dash is difficult and you never know when that rare one that you didn’t go searching for is going to elevate you blissfully. Let’s just say, it’s nice when it comes to you rather than you having to go to it.

Coming on five-twenty and still no Amazon van. Nothing to worry about yet. I haven’t been staring out the window as diligently as I did last time, what? after the guy commented on the fact that I had been doing it.

I’m trying to be laid back. It’s a two-hour window for a reason. That report just came out talking about how working for Amazon will kill you. I think these poor boys are granted the privilege of arriving somewhere during the later portion of their delivery window. It won’t kill me like it might them.

Curtailing your content for the sake of your audience can’t be done out of fear. Consider it professional or don’t even consider it.

How can you call this a book about nothing?

School bus after school bus makes me thirsty for my incoming groceries.

Responsibility drives the story along. A dog in tow on leash or in some sort of Sherpa pack from Petsmart last week marked down forty percent. Double espresso, the nightly ride, with not enough shmiggy just to keep the pain away.

The buzzer rings. Four bags. Two of them packed with styrofoam and cold keeping packets.

How do you do it? asks Brutus. That sort of weird, lear sustaining shift that you do? Is it multiple personalities? Is it some sort of aversion to the truth? Not wanting to face up to matters squarely?   

One just enters a run and they’ve got a brand new face, I say.

Peanuts on my desk. Honey roasted. Planters. Musette is such a gift. I love her so much, I say, thinking about Penelope as I cum the sheets into a napsack.

I told you he’s in my brain right now, I tell her. I don’t know what more you want to hear from me. Consider this my way of dealing with it.

The man across the way is staring out his window at me again. I wish he wasn’t there, but responsibilities drive this story along. It’s a dance of God and man. I’m always taking the snake bite. That’s stupid. It’s my past that was bible bashed into me. Forgive me for that, sweetheart. I’m here, in New York now, thinking about you, but loving my wife so much. You know, lives, they shift us around and we dance, dating daughters. I do always wonder where you’re at though. And the thoughts of your concealed and secret spots I have not seen send me over the edge, always. Like, what color are your niples and the shape of your labia. How long does your clitoris get? How do you kiss? How do you sexually move? Do you go into the dick? Are you hungry to suck? Do you crave the taste of cum? I just wonder and I obsess. This can’t be the strangest life I’ve ever lived, but it is weird. It’s absurd that we should be apart. Baby on board. Let’s see if I can squeeze it out my limp nut. I rarely even see her. I’m always alone but for what might as well be imaginary friends.


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