I’ve been fascinated with drugs since I was a little girl. I suppose curiosity will build the more you observe and refrain from participation. To this day I have not inhaled one puff of a cigarette.
As a teenager I was addicted to heavy metal music. I was the only drug free concertgoer at the Friday night Slipknot show in the boondocks. I was the outcast in a circle of outcasts. I rocked a wallet chain with my pleated skirt and band tee, but I was fooling no one. I was an innocent little girl who never joined the after parties. I wanted to keep my life in control so I craved being around people who would take risks. I fed off their wild fantasies and darkness. I didn’t want my own high, I wanted theirs.
I suppose my sexual cravings have mimicked this specific addiction. I seek out people who appear to have a lot going on in their mind. I don’t expect them to speak, I just want them to lay it on the workbench. Fuck me with your mind. Give me your high.
It was the summer of 2007. I sat on my sofa in a black tee and pink panties. My red hair was tangled and draped over my face. I looked hungover but I wasn’t. He had sent me a text at 11:15pm. The concert he was at must have finished early.
“can i see u” he wrote. I replied “yes”. He was only 20 but he was built like a 30-year-old. His muscles burst out of his tee. He loved music. He loved drugs. He loved fucking. Yet none of those truly defined him. Any time I got a booty call from him I was prepared to see him at his most fucked up. He scared me but in a really good way. My body and mind felt safe around him but my nervous system was scared enough to jolt my body with juices.
It was 11:45pm when I heard the knock at my door. I answered and there he stood, leaning against the door frame like James Dean. He was fucked but he was so happy. “GIVE ME ALL YOUR MONEY” he shouted as he threw out his hand in slow motion forming a gun signal. He knew he scared me and he jokingly played off it. He smiled and laughed as he walked in. As I watched him walk to my bedroom I couldn't help but stare at his chiseled physique and handsome smile. He dragged his arm across the wall as he walked. He was so happy. I wanted to exist inside him for just a moment. Chemicals bleeding inside my blood.
He grabbed my face and kissed me like I was a princess. He killed me with his kindness. I threw myself down on the bed and begged for his cock. He obliged. As his cock entered me from behind I felt myself beginning to drown. His hand wrapped around my neck pulling me tighter. He moved his hand down my back sending shivers through my legs. My pussy was showering his cock with wetness as I moaned for more. He pumped his cock in and out slowly as if his eyes were watching my every move. I closed my eyes as I felt a rush.
In the intro to The Weeknd’s tune I Feel It Coming, there’s a moment where you hear the music switch from mono to stereo. If you’re listening to it loud enough, you can feel it switch in your body.
He shifted his cock inside me. My body felt his chemicals and my senses were amplified. I threw myself on top of him and put my hand on his throat. My fangs were fully grown and I was craving his cum like an addict. I pounded his cock and I pressed into his neck with my hand. In one motion he lifted me off his cock and came all over my stomach. I dragged my finger across it and licked it. I loved the taste of his cum.
It was the winter of 2017. I was grocery shopping back in my home town. I lifted a mango to test its ripeness and I felt a tap on my hip. “Hi,” he said as I leaned back in awe. He was sharply dressed and still built like a truck. Conversation led to re-connection. He was sober now. Yet, there was something about him that still scared me in the best of ways. I felt my fangs begin to protrude as he sauntered off.
Later that week he texted me to meet up. He fucked me in his bedroom in the daylight.
This time his chemical blood didn’t pour into mine.
This time the etches in his mind carved into mine.
My brain slowly disconnecting itself from my veins with each throbbing pulse.
My body losing control under his.
He didn’t lose his power to simultaneously give me fear and take it all away. A combination that leads to a combustible orgasm.
