L. Murphy

by Arthur Graham on November 29, 2017

I’m a writer based in the Pacific Northwest. I work as an activist and advocate  and all my writing is creative non-fiction or prose poetry. I have filled over two hundred journals in my life and I am hoping to continue to write about the reality I live in, in hopes other people relate to it.

 

I’m on Fire

We’re turning onto I-5 north and the slow rumble of the Portland skyline comes into view while the ash rushes through the open windows, the debris gathers from forest fires burning 40 miles east of the city as the ninety degree weather makes my dress stick to my knees. The clock on the dashboard displays 10:00 pm. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to see his chest tattoo and I focus on the cursive lettering right below his collarbones while I slide my head back down to his lap and place his cock into my mouth. 

The highway is empty, the world is silent under the slow hum as the song changes on the stereo. Modest Mouse begins playing, the melancholic, nostalgic lyrics of my teen years fill my ears while I move my head up and down slowly, teasing him. Feeling his muscles tense with frustration I try to clear my mind but all I can think about is the sticky car rides in Southern Idaho while I kept the windows rolled up trying to understand why my ex wouldn’t even look at me. My mind is wandering, slipping into the events of last summer, driving past the Craters of the Moon National park asking him over and over again “why won’t you fuck me?” while he gripped onto the steering wheel and avoided eye contact saying he didn’t know, saying we just weren’t physically compatible, that he just wasn’t interested in sex, but I knew then what he didn’t know, he was interested in sex with anyone but me. 

My mind is rushing, taking the placement details of the present moment, with his cock deep in the back of my throat, his frustration lulling in the pit of my stomach, my power. He drives slowly on the interstate, swerving through lanes while my I move rhythmically, using my hand to edge him closer and closer.

I dip back into the memories of past lovers, of passionate tenses with the men who came before him, I fall into the sensories, the time my ex husband and I stayed in an Executive Lodge on our way back up to Washington from Southern Oregon. How he pushed me down onto my knees on the stained carpet and told me to look at my naked body in the full length mirror, told me to study my curves, to watch while he licked my hips, my clit, my nipples and every time I would look away from the mirror he would grab my face and force me to look back at my reflection. I started giggling and pulling him onto me, begging for him to fuck me, begging for him to pull the focus away from me but he refused, he focused on every detail of my body and forced me to watch until I came, until my entire body convulsed and I collapsed on the motel floor giggling and flailing around in tiny convulsions of pure passion and euphoria. 

The car is turning onto the exit towards my home and I pull my head up and begin licking his chest and biting onto his shoulder, nibbling his ear,  his neck. I want to tell him how I feel but I know this is too soon. I’m not sure if I even actually feel it. I told him in the beginning I didn’t want anything serious and I know exactly how this will turn out. I can see it clearly, the dissociation, the way I will distance myself from his manic episodes, how I will become cold and lifeless as he grows more and more attached to me but in this moment with the dimly lit city streets whirling above the open sun roof, all I can think about is whispering in his ear exactly what he wants to hear. I hold his cock in my hand and let him moan, let him bite his lower lip, let the car veer onto the wrong side of the road for a split second. I can feel the way he loves me, he looks directly into me while he fucks me, he holds onto my words as if they are glass, that if he doesn’t delicately place them into his memories they’ll shatter. I can feel the way his body gives itself to me, how quickly I can make him cum, how quickly I can make him desire me and my own egocentric self dips into the fulfilling power this gives me. I don’t know, do I love him or do I love the way he craves me?

I push myself out of the nostalgia, the trauma, the memories looming over me as if they plan on haunting me and I fill myself with this scene. The eerie minutes of solitude this moment is providing me, his body pulsing to fuck me, the warm, smokey evening and the rhythmic music holding me. He pulls the car over and parks it in front of my house, I bunch my dress up and move my panties to the side, crawling over to the drivers seat, I climb on top of his cock and ride him until he cums, biting and kissing him while he stares into me, moaning and clawing saying my name over and over again.

He cums and wraps his arms around my waist, forcing my body to stay still on his lap. I let him keep me here on top of him and I sit, my head resting on his forehead, feeling the sticky sensation drip down my thighs. Our hearts sync for a moment as we catch our breath, he lifts my chin up to look him in the eyes while he nervously speaks. 

“I love you, baby.”

 

You Can Go Now 

His fingers are inside me. I can feel him moving around and trying his best to get a reaction out of me but I don’t move. I lay perfectly still, I don’t feel anything, none of the normal throes of euphoria rush out of me and I am genuinely bored. I stare at the ceiling and wait for him to give up, wait for him to climb on top of me and fuck me until he cums so he can leave my room and I can fall back asleep. The appeal to fake the entire evening does not overcome me, the appeal to make this fun, easy for him, or really at all enjoyable doesn’t appeal to me either, the only thing that really does is watching him get frustrated over trying to please me. I am dissociated, numb, the small glimmering lights above my bed are giving me a headache, the slow hum of Junior Kimbrough from my stereo is keeping my heartbeat steady. 

I breath in slowly and grab his hand. 

“Just fuck me.”

I said slow as I coldly pulled his hand away from me.

He looked at me confused.

“Oh? Ok.”

He nervously pulled out a condom and I pulled my dress off over my shoulders, sitting naked in front of him.

He gawked at me for a moment and slid the condom on.

I turned around. 

“Fuck me from behind.”

I said sternly.

I think he thought I was trying to be kinky by being demanding.

I wasn’t. I didn’t give a fuck about being kinky.

I just didn’t want to look at his face and historically, men finish quicker when they fuck me from behind.

I bent over and felt him push deep into me. He started out slowly and I could feel every inch of his moderately sized dick. I tried to not yawn, the dizzy feeling I had gained from the wine was wearing off and I was tired, again. My entire body ached, again. I wanted to sleep for an entire day, again. I had to be up early for work, he needed to hurry. 

“Harder.”

I said coldly.

He pushed into me deeper and faster, grabbing onto my hips and doing his best not to dig his nails into me. I reach my hand around and grabbed his hands. 

“Pull my hair”

I snapped.

He grabbed a fist of my hair, lightly.

“Harder.”

He yanked on my hair and I let out a small giggle.

The searing pain of my hair being yanked made my nipples perk up, the warmth rushed around in my chest. 

He pushed in deeper and pulled harder.

“HARDER.”

I shouted. 

“Fucking hit me.”

He lifted his hand up and slapped my ass lightly.

“HARDER.”

He slapped harder and I could feel a sting.

An eruption of giggles lifted out of my chest, my body released and my headache ceased. I could feel him pulsing inside me.

I could feel myself tighten around his cock.

I could feel.

I shouted.

“Don’t fucking stop.”

And he turned me around onto my back and pushed into me.

I grabbed his hand and guided it to my throat.

“Choke me.”

I said looking straight into his eyes.

He smiled and gripped his fingers around my throat and pushed deeper inside me.

And my eyes rolled back

The world moved slowly

I could feel the small beads of

Anxiety and anger

Erupt from my skin and

I screamed,

Giggled,

Wrapped my legs around his waist and forced his cock to stay inside me

While he filled me. While I let the screams loose, digging my nails into his back. 

He collapsed on top of me inhaling deep heavy breaths and I felt myself come down, the sensation came back to the tips of my lips and my body returned to it’s reserved cold state.

I moved my body out from under him and pulled my dress back over my body and looked at him.

“Okay. You can go now.”

I pulled his pants up from off the floor and threw them towards him while I checked my phone absentmindedly.

 

Previous post:

Next post: