I am a gunslinger. I am an outlaw.
I came home when it was all over and poured myself a glass of red wine. I gulped nearly all of it down quickly, then let the remaining jewel finish drip down my throat.
It should have been whiskey, what the gunslingers drink.
But in the end, the wine was right. Luscious as life, ripe as all I believe in.
This blog is supposed to be about sex. It is why you came here.
This is not about sex, not now. It is about life. It is about passion. It is about love.
It is about sex. It always is. I drink, drink you, drink your come thick and delicious as it trickles down my throat, drink the honeyed passion from your face as you sweat there, drinking me, drinking as I wish, drinking as I might, drinking until I fall asleep, unrested when I awake, drinking coffee, drinking time, drinking in yes this life, yes all that I believe in, drinking in the days and the nights and the life that is so short and so sweet and never something that I would want only to drink and not to live, too.