Day fourth: the ritual of the darkness

Day fourth: the ritual of the darkness

It was seven again, Wednesday this time. I got into touching with my hands pósters of the walls of the corridor, it was so dark. I looked for the womb. My womb. To enter. To get into my womb of sex, death, heat and humidity. I saw one shadow, smoking of a water pipe. The sweet scent got me drunk. I approached the silhouette. That red hair drove crazy to me, her tact, her scent.

-No, don´t turn my face. Make it like this. Against my back.

That voice came from every and nowhere. I caressed the back to her. It was like the tact of the silk and the leather. Her sweat, my tongue. I saw a handkerchief tied to her nape of the neck. She was gaged. Oh God, she did know the way to make me horny. I lowered her trousers, I separated its rumps to her and I put it up to her ass. We had never done it like that. She moaned, twisted and I, enjoyed like a crazy animal. I took off all the clothes and when I was about to come, I removed the jaw.

- Oh shit! You do have beard!

He was a man who I have been fucking with. I saw her laughing , I went directly towards her and I gave a wafer so hard that he started to bleed. Oh God! The blood running on those lips... Something within me, I do not know if to call it fury, passion or kink, it made me to attack her and to fuck her hard against the wall. Their legs anchored on my back while I was penetrating her. Far away, a guitar moaned...

Día cuarto: el ritual de la oscuridad

Eran las siete otra vez, miércoles esta vez. Entré a oscuras palpando con mis manos los pósters de las paredes del pasillo. Buscaba la matriz. Mi matriz. Para entrar. Para entrar en mi matriz de sexo, de muerte, de calor y de humedad. Vi una sombra, fumando de una pipa de agua. El olor dulzón me embriagaba. Me acerqué a la silueta. Ese pelo rojo me enloquecía, su tacto, su olor.

- No, no me gires. Hazlo por detrás.

Esa voz salía de todas partes y de ninguna. Le acaricié la espalda. El tacto de la seda y el cuero. Su sudor, mi saliva. Vi un pañuelo atado a su nuca. Estaba amordazada. Dios, sabía como ponerme cachondo. Le bajé sus pantalones, le separé sus nalgas y se la metí por el culo. Nunca lo habíamos hecho así. Gemía, se retorcía y yo, gozaba como un loco. Le arranqué toda la ropa y cuando me iba a correr le quité la mordaza.

- ¡Mierda! ¡Si tienes barba!

Era un tío lo que me había estado follando. La vi reírse, fui directamente hacia ella y le di una hostia tan fuerte que empezó a sangrar. ¡Dios! La sangre corriendo por aquellos labios... Algo dentro de mí, no sé si llamarlo furia, pasión o morbo me llevó a atacarla y follarla allí de pie contra la pared. Sus piernas se anclaron en mi espalda mientras la embestía. Al fondo, una guitarra gemía...