The Dark Night

The Dark Night

 I’m not sure if it was the excitement of the sheer thrill that what I was doing was wrong, but all of that disappeared in the moment. It didn’t corrupt my form, or desires, and neither did it affect hers. Who knew what her position was? I just met this girl a meager forty minutes ago and now she was passionately riding my cock in the front seat of my 4-runner. The leather seat squeaking with every motion and ambulation; our bodies perfectly synchronized to sex. I didn’t think about the act I was committing, instead attentively engaging the task at hand. When I felt the thick residue that clung to my achingly erect penis, the truth evaporated, just like the love I deserted at home. While her quaint and perfect breasts nestled in and out of my thirsty mouth, adultery selfishly sneaked out the back door. Her subtle moans, “Oh God…Oh yes,” disrupted the footsteps of promiscuity that yearned to remind me of my former self. As I spread her luscious ass cheeks, opening the crease of her dripping wet pussy, my cock throbbed and thwarted for her; into her. We were unaware of name and identity, but yet we were silently bestowing every bit of each other we could escape with.

It may have been the mystery that vehemently heightened this tryst. In any case, there was no need for clarification. People suppose that passion is acquired through time: A blossoming of two souls whom fate aligned. That may be correct, but in my experience passion can also exist through spontaneity- the desire for a casual encounter of instant gratification. Passion can breathe between two people drinking warm Budweiser who, forty minutes ago, were complete strangers, and with one simple question turned brevity into a series of blissful orgasms. While the girl came, now screaming and gasping into my ear, I never thought twice about the meaning of this rendezvous. I tickled the deep thresholds of her vagina, lunging harder with each moan and it never occurred to me that this was just sex. When she exalted the words “oh fuck, I’m gonna cum,” in my mind it wasn’t just another lay. But it wasn’t anything more either. When it was my turn I held her back; teased her. She insistently grabbed my cock like a dangling sausage and crammed it into her mouth, sucking on its tip and slurping up the residue that she previously released. The thick milky white secretion she suppurated vanished. Our consecration could have led Catholicism into a lascivious riot, and while her lips lusciously massaged my cock, my fingers protruded the moist, viscous walls of her pussy.

Thick white cum nestled my fingers as I licked them clean. We turned into sexual gluttons, devouring advantageously every last bit of flavor. This girl could have been a harlot- could have had a pimp. She could have been engaged, married, or a housewife. I was unfaithful. Why would she be any different? I could have been plagued with blight; a rapist or a murderer. We met through an ordained accident and committed a voracious affair. And why did I glean her? She was almost perfect in every sense of the way, but there was more. It wasn’t all contributed to her physical appearance- her short stature, perky breasts and voluptuous ass, or her dirty blonde hair that ultimately reflected her personality and immoral values; or our destruction and inability to maintain self control. She was almost perfect and the instance that my paint splattered her pretty picture, our frame shone bright with exquisiteness. Together our chemistry created a formula perfected for gratuitous desire. In every evil casts the inevitable murky glow of beauty. It may be unwanted, or unwarranted. But when it appears, it is undeniable.

This avocation began somewhat formal. Although, the first stare executed by our pairs of eyes formulated the future. Her blue eyes met mine. My pale grey’s met hers. Together they were indelible. Our hands shook and our mouths mechanically set into motion, but only the silence could be heard. Nothing really mattered until the crucial question was posed. A six pack of warm beers now defeated the edge and my unconscious led us into a journey of the unattainable state of “realism.” “So do you want to fuck me?” I asked. An expression of shock captivated her face. “Excuse me?” “Do you want to fuck me? It’s a simply question really.” “Umm. I don’t really know what to say? I’ve never really been asked that so bluntly.” In some cases bluntness is anything but sexy. But in this case, it was not only sexily intrusive, but honestly presumptuous- instilling my confidence in the moistened soil of her impressionable mind. Women can’t deny their attractiveness to confidence, even if it’s deemed arrogant. “Why else did you really think we were meeting? And besides, people most often decide instantly whether or not they would fuck someone by their first impression. I knew that I would fuck you, and I’m pretty sure you’d fuck me.” Was I wrong? Not even the slightest, but it is a woman’s obligation to abstain a man’s desires for fear of judgment. But we both knew that any sort of scrutiny towards one another would just be naive and crass.

Once we were in agreement, nothing else would have mattered. We would have simply been two beings without identity, dining on whatever fates menu had to offer. “Well…how about we just make out first.” There was no more need for dialogue; the second our lips met a spark spontaneously combusted us into each other. We no longer existed as separate entities. We turned into sex. Her fellatio was anything but fallacious. It was obvious that all self doubt was eradicated. I pushed her over to the passenger seat. She sat like a blooming tulip. Her legs enticed me, slowly blossoming and inviting my cock- dripping with her saliva and desire. I felt villainous as I crept toward the gap between her limbs. My vision blurred and reverted through the fogged up window of the passenger door. This delusion obstructed me from reality. When my cock infiltrated her pussy, luminosity created a fantastical fairy tale in which we were writing. And then the grasp of my skin jolted me back into the non-fiction. The harder she scratched my back, the faster I shoveled my penis inside of her. She slyly snaked her hands around my shoulders and neck, down to my pectorals, where she rubbed and moaned. Faster and faster I protruded her. I violated her and pulled her hair. And then I pollinated her. The aftermath was bittersweet. Neither of us could really put into words what just happened; the darkness of the night and the desolation of our location slowly begun to shelve us back into reality. There was really no need for conversation and so I took her home and we never spoke another word, or shared the sweat of each other again.

 Passion was attainable because we both agreed upon the circumstances. What we did was not necessarily right. Did I feel guilt during my drive home? Of course- for I am human- but with that said, I am also doomed with a desire for excitable and forbidden satisfaction. This occurrence does not represent a palatable experience for every one night stand, and I don’t condone this behavior. I’ve had many that were passionless and left me with nothing but a feeling of complete and utter emptiness. But in life, there are times when the stars are perfectly aligned, and the foundation of our Christian belief system actually displays the power of God’s will, whether it be evil or un-pure, it can still be beautiful and unforgettable none the less.