frantic, frenzied, frightened

delirious, desperate, distressed

anxious, agitated, aggravated

uneasy, unwound, unsettled


{having a virtual meltdown}

Crowds of people.
Cocaine bumps.
Flowing alcohol.
Bathroom blowjobs.
A party to remember.

To avoid complication,
she never kept the same address.
In conversation,
she spoke just like a baroness.


Sometimes, I just can't get enough Queen.

It was all a facade.

A night of false pretenses.

Every moan that fell out of her lips
was truth.

Every smile that lit up her countenance
was forced.

I'll hold your hand

if you can promise to

let me go.

I want to fuck.
Until the pain takes over the pleasure.
Where every orgasm is a toll upon the body.
Until the walls of my sex nearly go numb.
Where every cry is a lovely mix.
Until the climaxes shatter my perception of reality.
Where every thrust is bruising the cervix.
Until I can't take anymore.
Where every naughty demand is a plead for your arrival.
Until you can't take anymore.
I want to fuck.

Sometimes she thought:

I really need to stop this madness.

"You're so young, sweetheart. Too young to be jaded and not believe in love," he mused while unconsciously rubbing his ring finger where there was no longer a wedding band. He hadn't worn it in over a year, but the motion had been so common that it filtered into his bachelor life.

She picked up on those little things, never saying a word. To draw attention to such actions would only cause him to feel defensive and self-conscious. Tapping chopsticks against the little dish for soy sauce, she replied, never making eye contact, "I didn't say that I don't believe in the existence of love. I love my sister."

"You know what I meant," he replied, crooking his head slightly as he studied her facial features.

Flickering those expressive orbs upon him, she spoke with a weariness that didn't suit her placid countenance, "Love exists. It exists all around us. As for romantic love, it's bullshit. That doesn't stop someone from hurting the other. That doesn't stop them from saying cruel things. Or, from cheating." Her words slipped out with ease, lacking a realization of how close to home she had just hit.

Pain struck him between the eyes as he looked away, guilt washing over his freshly shaved face.

"Fuck. I wasn't referring to you. I was talking in general. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that as being targeted towards you." She was fully aware that the damage was done. Setting her chopsticks down so that the tips balanced on her plate, she reached across to take his hands into hers; there was no resistance. "Babe, I'm sorry. You know I would never intentionally make a low blow like that."

"I know that's not how you meant it. You're... you're just right. I think that hurts worse. Love doesn't prevent two people from making bad choices. No matter how much you love someone, it doesn't prevent you from being selfish. And, even if you can hold up your end, that might not be true of the other person." An audible sigh departed his full lips, eyes surveying her closely from beneath glasses. "But, that doesn't mean it doesn't exist. There are people who manage to stay in love."

"I think it's more that they have an active sex life. Lust is commonly mistaken as love. People who stop having sex seem to be less happy."

A smug smile suddenly appeared upon his lips as he replied, "I think you are going to have an endless supply of men who believe they are in love with you then."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three glasses of wine later, a short walk and they were back at his loft. As his cock pounded into the back of her throat, he fondled her breasts and gently cried her name aloud, "Ally, Ally... I love every part of you. I love your mouth. I love your body."

Slipping her mouth back, she teased gently at the sensitive flesh of his head with measured strokes of that soft tongue. Finally, she withdrew him completely and murmered up at him, "This, this is what love really is: complete and utter lust." He hesitated, eyes focused on her mouth. She plunged forward, lips parted as she forcefully banged him against the soft recesses of her throat.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Snuggled beneath the covers, he spooned her supple form, his hands never ceasing in their gliding over soft contours. "I still think you are wrong."

Half asleep, her words were nearly inaudible, "No, you don't."

"Sometimes it is the only worthwhile product you can salvage from a day: what you make to eat. With writing, I find, you can have all the right ingredients, give plenty of time and care, and still get nothing. Also true of love. Cooking, therefore, can keep a person who tries hard sane."

The World According to Garp

Females aren't suppose to have such strong sex drives.

Females aren't suppose to have such quirky tastes.

Females aren't suppose to have such insatiable hunger.


In public view, she was the sweetest thing. Always a kind word, bright and bubbly; people frequently asked if she was still a virgin.

They had no clue what went on behind closed doors.



The men who satisfied her sexual cravings found delight in the dichotomy of her personality. Intelligent enough to debate philosophy and discuss the impacts of a piece of literature, yet voracious and bold in the bedroom. There was no blushing on her part.