A micro-story for mature readers.
coffee weed and fucking the perfect day. the dream. my dream not everyones we all have different dreams. i dont dream much anymore but when i do its the same dreams ive always had. im somewhere remote, somewhere beautiful, and im driving. i know where im going and i can never get there fast enough. then i find out im not going anywhere, that im running. and i dont see who im running from but its someone in another car and they are always one step behind me. but i dont see them. so do i really know who im running from? maybe im running from myself. it always felt like a doppelganger, knowing my every move like that even on some of the lower roads ive driven on, still drive on twenty years later while my body sleeps. one time i dreamt that my father left me. that he disappeared in to thin air and i had to go looking for him. i travelled the world in a gyrocopter with two bumbling midget sidekicks like a live action disney movie from the eighties and it was all to find him. but he left me. just like i got used to everyone leaving me. running from everybody. sheltered. but i knew what i needed. if i could just have another joint another cup of coffee, with the special creamer, get my dick sucked while i played video games it would all be okay. but i never had enough not even when it should have been enough i needed more, no weed id have a pot of coffee no coffee no weed i would lock myself in my room and masturbate all day, watching the same videos id seen a million times before. had to stay in my comfort zone even when watching porn. i love watching porn but i dont watch it anymore or else im not sharp for olivia.
olivia. olivia. i’ve only known two olivias in my lifetime but i want to know more. where do they hide? i imagine annual conventions for people with alternative names mingling in the convention centre meeting other olivias, all beautiful, all innocent and bright. what would they talk about? would they talk shop about being an olivia and spread rumours about all the olivias who didnt show up? like the olivia from indiana whos a bit of a flake, or the olivia a bus ride away who got grounded the night before. i hear she fell in love with another olivia, theyd say. you should never fall in love with another of your own kind but olivia was my own kind. it was so easy to corner her that first night at the restaurant where she worked and get in close enough for us to smell the gum on our breaths as i asked her about her job and she obligingly agreed to answer every question with a pursed lip. we were like siblings, just like those porns id watch. my cock was hard just thinking about my surrogate sister and she knew it as she looked me up and down and batted her oily, bleached hair back with her long pale fingers. she looked like i broke her. and i remembered that look on our first date, eating burgers in my back seat after shed finished her shift. i was honestly a little surprised how comfortable she was when i asked but i felt like asking and she obliged just like i knew she would. we were parked in a cemetery near my house that had nice wide lanes and a great view of the waterfront properties and we talked about the new sequel to a movie that came out thirty years ago and how the director was a hack and how she wanted to go to school but was declined student loan assistance because of her low income status, and i told her about the twenty thousand dollars in debt i still had and we sparked a joint with the windows up and sipped our fifty cent burger joint coffee. then we put our drinks down clumsily in the cup holders in the front seat and as we reached out together our cheeks touched and she giggled and i kissed her. because i was done running and i knew she was mine. i wanted to go slow but she set the pace and she straddled me backwards, her head between the front seats as she lowered her jeans and her panties just enough that her hot, wet hole was ready for me as i unbuckled my jeans and it came roaring out of the gate to fill her spaces. within minutes we were done and she lifted off of me and pulled her pants back up and turned around, raised her ass in to the air, kissed my lips then bent down and kissed my messy manhood. it was the stuff of fantasy.
but thats what id wanted wasnt it? a good little fuckdoll that submitted to my bidding, no matter how simple. what did they call it? cock worshiping. but it never happened that way. she just used me. she didnt call me back respond to my texts soon i was sure she had set out to block me altogether. we had only hung out a total three hours in the last four weeks but it was unforgettable. i wanted to breathe on her neck again, hear her sigh into my ear, run my fingernails down her back and rest my hands on her grinding hips again it was all i could think about. i went back to the restaurant but they acted like they had never heard of her before. i recognized the girl there, she was working the same night olivia was and she remembered me without knowing my name. i waited in my car til the end of her shift and confronted her in the parking lot. apparently olivia was fired, vanished, job abandonment. new law they had put in after three shifts. where could i find her? i shook her and she legitimately didnt know anything not even when i pulled out my switchblade and pressed the cold steel to her neck. i told her i had killed before and she knew i wasnt lying when she looked in my eyes so she pulled her cell phone out and gave me the phone number she had for her, different then mine. i took the girls drivers license and sent her away and sat in my car and called the number over my car radio. olivia answered, and as soon as she heard my voice she hung up so i called the cops next and told them she was in trouble, trace the number do something! anything to get my olivia back to me.
//jf 2.26.2020
theory of a daskeman 