Wednesday, August 09, 2006

The Spirit Is Willing

A merry chen. She says, A merry chen.

I say, No. Listen. A merry can. A merry can.

I'm busy nailing her, this boney-ass Russian girl I picked up at the Melkweg, and we're engaging in rudimentary elocution. It's hilarious. Really. I'm saying, A merry can, a merry can - a thrust punctuating each use of the word can - and she's saying, A merry chen, a merry chen - like she really wants me to be pleased with her progress or something. There is something really fucking attractive about the way she says chen. It isn't really chen, either. It's probably more like kyen. A merry kyen. It's weird. She really is thin. It's like fucking Karen Carpenter or something. She looks like that actress. The bug eyed chick from The Shining. I can't remember her name. Her. She looks like her. Anyway, I was saying. She's thin. Her ribs stick the fuck out. Her skin is white. I mean white. Her legs are like pieces of string with I don't know - fucking knots in the middle where the knees should be. Her chest is flatter than mine. She doesn't have a lot going for her is what I'm saying. But then the way she says the word American makes me almost blind with wanting her.

We fuck three times straight through. She's sweet. Each time, after I cum, she takes my cock in her mouth and sucks until he's hard again. She licks my balls and sucks on my cock and slips her finger up my ass until I'm good and ready and then she starts over: a merry kyen, a merry kyen, a merry kyen. She's there, riding me, her boney-ass fucking hips easing gently forward and back like a little kid on some fairground ride, her hand palm flat against my chest. A merry kyen, a merry kyen, a merry kyen.

Later, much later than you would think, long after I'd expect anywhere to still be open, we go out. She finds a place down some backstreet, knocks three times with the back of her fist on a door that wouldn't look out of place in Alice's fucking Wonderland and we duck inside a gloomy cellar rammed to the rafters with trashy looking people jogging up and down to some Dark Wave shinola. It's like a party. We dance all night. I drank 15 beers and started a fight.

Somehow or other she got me out of there without a scratch. I tried to return the favour. But maybe there was something wrong with her tongue. She just couldn't stop with the merry kyen.


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