Tuesday, December 26, 2006

The Anal Plateau

See, the way I grew up, you liked it clean or you liked it dirty.

Shawnelle was 31 when we met. I was 23. Within three minutes of our eyes meeting we were fucking. In a bathroom. At a party. We fucked without a break for about a month. We moved locations yeah sure. Ate. Used the can. But for the most part we fucked.

At the time Shawnelle was just coming off some hard ride she'd been on with a lawyer who worked for bikers. Kept wanting to tape her in a gangbang. The night we met her hair was completely shaved off. Of her head. Bald. Her pussy was this wispy blonde pixie dust cotton candy thing. Her head hair grew out over that month. Blonde.

My Life's Whore was an Angel. I won the lottery.

Our relationship grew. Sometimes they'll go backward these affairs. Slide from out of the box lust into something reserved shy conservative, tentative and retarded. A coma. still life sort of snap, of things.

For me and Shawnelle our desire was being drawn by the moon. And the stars. And the planets. We were hot for eleven years through kids and death and my shiftwork and her career as a practising psychic - most contracts with some fairly major metropolitan police forces. But what happened was we hit the anal plateau. Once we had done anal there was nowhere left to go. Maybe it was Mercury in retrograde. I'm not the one to ask.

Everything I know about sex and love I've learned from Shawnelle.

She was upfront. Out of the gate said 'I love cocks'. Plural. Men. Like snowflakes. No two were the same. She told me the faces were now vague but she carried an image of their cocks within her self. I was her second biggest. She was upfront. Some guy drove a cab she dated and lived with for a time. Cared for but didn't love. She loved me. Who knows.

More than The Midget even. Who was a spiritual life guide and friend to Shawnelle as much as he was a humping stumpy hornbag.

But now it's my turn to lead. Get beyond anal. Take it to the next level.