fuckshe pulled her dress offover her headand I saw the pantiesindented somewhat into thecrotch.it's only human.now we've got to do it.I've got to do itafter all that bluff.it's like a party--two trappedidiots.under the sheetsafter I have snappedoff the lighther panties are stillon. she expects anopening performance.I can't blame her. butwonder why she's here withme? where are the otherguys? how can you belucky? having someone theothers have abandoned?we didn't have to do ityet we had to do it.it was something likeestablishing new credibilitywith the income taxman. I get the pantiesoff. I decide not to tongue her. even thenI'm thinking aboutafter it's over.we'll sleep togethertonighttrying to fit ourselvesinside the wallpaper.I try, fail,notice the hair on herheadmostly notice the hairon herheadand a glimpse ofnostrilspiglikeI try it again.
Charles Bukowski, Love Is a Dog from Hell
sex