Teflon Ch. 01

This is the first chapter an indefinitely long series. Its good if you don’t need to get off on something now. There’s not much that sexuality here, but I will blindly promise you massive orgies and assorted hot passionate and clichéd sex to come (inevitable pun realized and apologized for).

Eyes closed.

I pressed my hands down and along her back, trying to produce as much friction as possible, sweat sped my descent. Hands reached her waist and wrapped tightly, maybe too tight, not tight enough at the moment, squeezed harder. As I panted, grunted and gasped, hair flew in my mouth, flew out. It was all so incredibly hot. I could only tell the difference between the air and her skin by the texture. I was lunging in, as if each time was my last, reluctantly pulling out as fast as I could stand it. It was hard, it was hot, it was blinding. Everything was feeling: sight, taste, smell, hearing all took a back seat. All I saw was the flickering black of my eyelids. I heard muted grunts, not sure if they were mine or hers, all the same. Smelled like sweat, tasted like sweat, felt like sweat.

Blind animal lust. Dogs in heat. Legs wrapped around my waist, closed with a kick that landed on my kidneys, it should have hurt, can’t say it did. I was distracted by her nails, dug into my should blades, deep as they could go, she was trying to pull me in two. I pounded harder, just tight wet insanity.

The sex was violent. She dug her claws in, I pounded harder as if trying to beat her off me, trying to crush her. Pubic hair tangled and matted together with cum kept fluid with the motion.

Closer now, feeling it.

Harder: there was almost an anger in it.

Closer: my arms squeezed harder, she returned with her claws.

Harder. Closer. Harder.

Closest.

Hardest.

We were trying to pull each other into one another, to become one being like pieces of clay smashed together. We couldn’t get closer, we tried, squeezed, grunted.

I didn’t realize the degree of noise, until she screamed first. Or was it I? Or both? Couldn’t tell can’t now.

AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! – in unison. It should have deafened me, or her, us. I felt my throat being worn away.

Eyes still closed, still tasting the sweaty, foreign hair. Exploded. It all went out. Black, still, quiet, bland. Dehydration, exertion, heat exhaustion, orgasm: I was out, I didn’t know at the time though.

The stillness was indefinite, dreamily faded… faded into… out of…?

Into…

My left knee was starting to hurt. I blinked twice to refresh my drying eyes and get her attention. The ring, thin gold band with an elliptical diamond with more facets than you could count. I was now be coming aware of the texture of the pavement, the hundred percent humidity, and the glaring streetlight bent over the sidewalk. It was an eternity, and not just as if time had stopped in this moment of waning hope and waxing despair, I was able to feel the sweat inch down my face, stop, wait, then inch down again in eight staggered waves. It took those seven waves for the anxiety to collect on my chin to build up and fall to the ground, I saw it in slow motion out of the corner of my eye, like a god damn sprint commercial. I could hear it too, not the pin drop of course, it didn’t sound wet, it landed with a thud, the proverbial sack of potatoes dropping to the ground, when I looked up, the tension in my stomach had dissipated, the anxiety lifted its veil, for reasons I couldn’t understand.

I looked up, to see her part her brightly painted lips, bordering on whore-ish, part and reveal white teeth, tooth paste commercial white, only to see each of them turn one 180 degrees like a billboard that rotates in segments, from right to left. They revealed a message in tiny letters the same red as her lip stick, I could barely make it out, it said: “Sorry, you’re not a winner. Please try again.”

The anxiety swelled to a tsunami.

My vision blurred into a tunnel, and I was flying into her mouth and down her throat, there was no sense of movement but things elongated themselves and were stretched in the direction of my motion, like a 3D image pulled apart on silly putty. When every thing was black, it was silent; it had been silent since I heard my sweat hit the ground. It was black for only a moment, then slowly, I saw colors, weird colors, in weird shapes, always moving always changing, shapes that you couldn’t focus on no matter how hard you tried, like what you see on the inside of your eyelids when you press against them. It started with a half circle in the middle, black on black but with a white aura, like a solar eclipse then they split, moved away and morphed, they danced for a while and turned into other shapes and other colors, until I forgot what they were originally and it was just a kaleidoscopic green glowing honey comb. And then…

…I gasped. I drew in as much air as I could, gulping for it as if I had just surfaced from under water in a made for TV movie, and it felt like that. I was facing the ceiling, with the broken, lop sided ceiling fan that was missing a blade. Perspiration covered my skin like a glass of ice water that had sat too long untouched. A thin linen sheet stuck to my lower half with all the sweat. As my awareness and shaky sobriety grew I realized I was lying with my hands behind my head in what I would normally imagine to be a cliché and satisfactory post coital position. I could smell my armpits without tilting my head; apparently the deodorant that was supposed to last for twelve hours had died half a day before. I irrationally, instinctively, pull my arms down to my sides and brought them across my chest in something that would resemble a pose of coy modesty.

I wasn’t actually becoming more aware, I was just getting a chance to notice the sensations across my body. The area where my neck faded into my back burned, and I slapped a hand back there and touched what felt like a 2 by 2 inch piece of aluminum foil, I peeled it off like a ten year old does to one of his friend’s band-aids. Jerk. Fuck. It hurt like hell and I felt something wet as I fell back to the sheets from the barely inclined position. It wasn’t sweat, it was warmer than sweat or maybe my mind just knew, either way I didn’t have to think hard in my semi-comatose state to realize it was blood.

I brought the piece of foil back around to my face, to see, I had to hold it close because my eyes couldn’t focus. I thought maybe I have glasses somewhere, I didn’t know if I did or didn’t to tell the truth. I looked at the patch from three inches away, it was metallic, but by no means aluminum foil, and embossed with a maze like pattern that shined red with wet blood on dry flesh. I turned it over and it had an insignia that just said ‘DERM’ but in cursive graffiti, it was printed on though, the shading of the letters was uniform, no signs of a pen or human touch.

I was still pretty much in a ‘what-the-fuck’ state of mind. When I started piecing things together, about as fast as a seal working on a 500 piece jigsaw puzzle, but I was piecing it together.

I looked at my memory in reverse, able to track through it. After simple thought to simple thought went through my head, I figured that when I had woken up, I had must have fallen unconscious from not breathing, something caused by this DERM I guessed, I knew things like that could do that to you, somewhere. I would later look back and admire my half-assed intuition. After that bout of hard thought, I got up, the bed sheets sticking to me, some from blood some from sweat, at that point I couldn’t tell, not only did I not care, I was simply unaware of that.

I was running on autopilot. Found my way to the glow of the bathroom light, and not possessing the motor skills to splash water on my face in a dramatic fashion then look in the mirror and stare at my reflection, propped up by my arms, I stumbled to an unfamiliar bath tub. Only realizing I had been stumbling the whole way as my shins hit the rim and I flopped into the tub like a dieing fish. Kicked one of the faucets and felt, after a short delay, the cold water hit me from above at, not that I had the proper measuring tools with me or the capability to use them, a forty five degree angle. I lie there, lapping up the metallic tasting water with a half opened mouth, opening and closing my jaw trying to get more. It was only now, that I could really feel my body…